A Year in Image Village

"When we walk to the edge of all light we have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown we must believe one of two things will happen- There will be something solid to stand on.  Or, we will be taught how to fly."

-Patrick Overton

August 22-23, 2009

Tonight is my first night back in my village since I returned from America.  Coincidentally, tonight as the sun sets, it is also my one year anniversary since coming to Image Village. This makes it impossible for me not to reflect on what one year ago today was like.  

First, let's look at what happened today.  I navigated the way to my village car with ease, complete with a supply of toilet paper, coffee and candles.  Hopped into the car and directed Stan, my driver, where to place my bags so that my bought items would not break.  Then Stan goes "So what did you bring?"  which is my cue to pull out bananas, oranges and passion fruit... Stan has brought sugar cane and pineapple cut into little pieces.  We look over our goods like fifth graders in the lunch room ready to share what our moms have packed us. This is our ride home tradition talking and bonding over our common love of fruit as we bump along.   Upon arriving to my house it is in tip-top shape with no break ins at all, which is sort of amazing since my entire village knew I was gone and for how long.  There is a welcome back party complete with villagers from a few months old to Mzee Ngoda.  I finally get to be alone and turn my house into my own romantic oasis, which I have learned to do every night to make myself happy, even though I am alone in the middle of nowhere.  I effortlessly build a fire in the fireplace, make soup, heat water for me to bathe with my favorite lavender soap, put my clothes into my wardrobe and light about 18 candles (although I have supposedly had electricity for months, in reality it has worked for maybe five nights.) I put on a Tom Petty cd and settle into the evening sounds of Image- children laughing, owls hooting, bugs chirping, something scurrying through my ceiling boards- rats? snakes? bats? lizards?  I don't know and I don't care as long as I can't see it.  Someone walks by singing in a foreign tongue.  And I think about a year ago- how these very same sounds terrified me.

I remember climbing into the car with Stan and being afraid.  unable to say more than a greeting to him and he generously slid some sugar cane across the seat, (which really started the whole tradition.)  When I got to Image no one was there to greet me, no one cared.  I think about how I couldn't build a fire, I didn't know how to get water to bathe, I had no furniture to set up, no candles and only a flashlight to shine into the dark recesses of my house at the spiders laying in wait.  I didn't eat.  Instead I curled into a ball on the cement floor and thought what have I done while I cried myself to sleep.  Who knew that only one year later my life would be like this?  My house would be this beautiful?  I would have a million Tanzanian friends?  And although today I love Image, they really gave me a sink of swim option, a fall or fly- and I am very glad that I CHOSE the latter.  And I must stress "chose" because being here was the hardest choice I have ever made, especially when the former could have been so easy to give up and go back to America.  A year ago I took a step into the unknown and even though I still have a lot of time left, today I feel like I am on the top of the mountain and can see the other side.  Next year at this time, I will officially be a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer after 27 months of service... It will feel good.

" 'Come to the edge' 

         'It is too high'

'Come to the edge'

         'We might fall'

'Come to the edge'

So they came, and they pushed and they flew..."

(PC's unofficial motto in my opinion... drop me off in a village alone with nothing and I'll show you...)