One Year In Tanzania

This post is a little pre-mature, but I am going to try to do a village marathon (I have found that as opposed to when I first came to village, now it is where I feel happiest and most at home), so I am not sure when I will be able to update again...

June 2009

"Then the time came when the risk that it took to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
-Anais Nin

I left my home a year ago this June. I had barely been out of Oregon, to be quite honest. Today, I sit in an internet cafe in a small town in Tanzania. This year I have cried and laughed, screamed and smiled, and I have learned... and learned... and learned...

Successes, Failures and Lessons Learned...

-I can speak and understand another language.

-A lot of times, I have no idea what to do. But I think that this is ok.

-PCVs are special people. They understand where you have been, why you are here and where you want to go.

-To be grateful for the small things in life- a rainfall, a healthy child, a good meal, a connection with a friend... There are a million things everyday.

-Everyone is on their own life path. You can only be responsible for yours.

-I love LOVE Tanzania. This is sort of weird. PCVs play this game when we are feeling unhappy. Someone says- "Brie, now why are you here?" You can name off anything you want- "Because the pineapples are cheap, because I want to change the world, because no one can get a job in America, because my village would be sad if I left, because I am changing my life..." The problem would come if you could not name anything off. The amazing thing is that for all the hard times, I can find a million reasons why I love Tanzania and Tanzanians. Most recently after playing this game I recieved a text from a PCV friend that said, "Damn girl, you are digging deep and bursting boundaries within yourself that most people can't even begin to try and face. I admire you and your spirit, lady. If you want this experience, you can have it. You just got to know it and I know that you do." That is why I am here.

-I can live without electricity and running water.

-I am more sensitive and less sensitive at the same time. I have listened to stories of abuse, rape and violence, of disease and hardship. I have seen people dying and people being born. I have seen complete joy, pure bliss in people who have nothing.

-I know what it feels like to be a minority, and sometimes it isn't that fun.

-I can do anything that I want to, if I decide that I am going to.

-I like to travel and have adventures. This will be important for the rest of my life.

-I am fully accepted in a Tanzanian village. I am a teacher, mentor, friend, and family member... In short, I am a villager. Acceptance has never been so rewarding.

-I have learned that the average American knows very little about life in the rest of the world.

-I am braver, tougher and stronger than I thought.

-Small acts of love are everywhere.

-I own about the minimal amount of clothes possible. And it is not that big of a deal.

-I have learned that the phrase "developing countries" is sort of a joke. We go in with "all the answers" but learn more in return. My village driver can fix a broken down car with one screwdriver and a bit of duct tape, a child can recognize a small sprout as what one day will be an avocado tree... Don't underestimate what people can accomplish with very little.

-Laughter and acceptance go a long way.

-People are not always what you hoped. In the end, all you have is yourself.

-I thought that I was more "put together" than I am. I am sort of reckless, impulsive and wild.

-My body might not be the shape or size that embodies "beauty" in America, but I can still be grateful. My legs can propel me over Southern Highlands hills, my immune system fights for my health, my arms lift buckets of water, and my hand can grasp onto the hand of a child. And I think that is beautiful.

-I know a lot about the behaviors of chickens and rats.

-I know what it feels like to be really and completely alone. The type of aloneness that scares the shit out of you because your only choice is to get real with yourself.

-Being stuck in a car in the mud is just being stuck in a car in the mud, ugali again is just ugali again, dirty feet are just dirty feet, huge spiders are just huge spiders... don't sweat the small stuff, and the matter of small or large is all in how you look at it.

-I talk a lot in America, in Africa I have learned to listen more.

-I have learned that my American family are the most giving, beautiful people who I love beyond words. But if you go somewhere with an open heart, even those most different from you will become your family. Family is everywhere in Tanzania. Even though my family has never been to Africa, they are here everywhere. I see my brothers in eager little boy's faces that I attempt to teach, my sisters are in the shy smiles of girls preparing food, I see my mom's hands in women all over the village who are working hard to create something beautiful, my dad is in every baba's kind eyes and encouraging words. Family appears where there is love.

-Material possessions break, get lost, get stolen from you- I let it go. I try to count the "real" things I have- My health, good family and friends, patience, forgiveness...

-I left my heart in Oregon.

-I attempt to live with no regrets. There are people all over the world who say, "I wish I would have..." I am trying not to be one of those people.

-I can light my charcoal jiko (stove) in one light.

-Romantic love might be important, but I think true love is different. It is a look that someone accepts you as what you are, trusts you and like you have changed their world just by being in it.

-I am my own best friend. This is pretty loser-ish, but also pretty cool.

-When I become a RPCV it will be my biggest life accomplishment so far.

-I have learned to try to make every moment as funny, wild, memorable, fun as possible. Sometimes PCV life is tough. So we end up doing things like pretending to be astronauts on a different planet, dancing with random children in the street, going on scavanger hunts in villages where you can't buy anything, breaking into bad American pop songs at unexpected moments. Everyday can be an adventure, if you choose to make it one.

*Thank you to everyone who has supported me this last year. Written the emails, sent the letters and packages and made the long distance phone calls. I love you and your support means everything to my experience here.

xoxo,
Brie