Where Oh Where is Bibi?

deborah_brower — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 21:30:00 GMT

The morning began typically enough. First, there was the breakfast of chai ginger tea and toast. Then promptly at 7:00am it was off to my placement. The Hillcrest School is a brisk 20 minute walk up paths utilized and deemed as roads here in the Maasai village just outside of Arusha. The sun was bright and my spirit light despite the undercurrent of digestive rumblings, which is another caveat. Cars and motorcycles passed intermittently going mostly in the opposite direction while the workers in the quarry on the one side were sitting on individual mounds diligently breaking by hand various sized stones for use in roads and construction.

The trek itself to the facility is full of curves and similar landscape, but after four days I was proud to note that it was negotiable without assistance. Upon arrival, my assignment was to continue up the mountainside to several children’s homes to pick them up and walk them back to school assuring their otherwise questionable attendance. I had done this twice before with the teacher, Elizabeth, and fortified by my most recent success, I assured her I was capable of a solo run. Heading off on the road going up of course, I warmly greeted those whom I passed with a Hujambo (Hello) and subsequently became engrossed in an attempt at a conversation with one woman who seemed to be going my way. This distraction inadvertently caused me to miss my turn because after about 45 minutes I knew I was in trouble. I walked this way and that, always thinking I was ever so close. I stopped and laughed together with a group of ladies I had passed up as I clearly did an about-face to pass them again. We needed no words to speak of what was happening and gratefully humor has universal facets.

Heading back to what I’d hoped would eventually become some familiar topography; I realized I could not count on the light or vegetation to guide me because it was ALL THE SAME! Down seemed an obvious choice of route until it took on a spiral quality. I passed many children, goats, dogs and bulls roaming about seemingly aimless. At one point I gingerly moved through a group of Maasai men in an obvious serious gathering right there on the road. I passed many women with bundles and water on their heads and colorful kangas (wraps) on their bodies. I passed at least a half a dozen one room storefronts while the boda boda (motorcycles) continuously whizzed by. I have to say I was tempted to contract with one of them for a ride as many often do, but the roads are barely walkable and I didn’t think I should take on any more risk than I already had. ‘Out of my comfort zone’ is seriously an understatement, but survival after all takes precedence. And, except for that pressing digestive problem I mentioned and the increasing fatigue, I was really quite all right. (I did ask God for a little assistance in some rather forceful language, however.)

Casually walking along came this young man who I eventually learned was named John. He had just enough English for me to convey my predicament and just enough presence for me to trust his sincerity in guiding me down to the road I knew I would recognize when I saw it as the Nairobi Road. We walked and talked and when we came upon a shop that had the bananas I wanted to take to the children, he assisted me in negotiating pricing and product choice. As we nearly reached the main road he saw a friend he wanted to talk to so we said Kwa heri (Goodbye) and went our separate ways. Indeed he had a request, but he was smooth, polite, and it was as harmless and simple as my email address, which I gratefully wrote down for him.

Where I came out on Nairobi Road, however, was half a mile on the other end of my home-stay. I felt very strongly about returning to the school as I knew they would be worried about my disappearance, to say nothing of the children waiting for me. So I stopped at home only long enough to race to the bathroom, get a drink, and lament my troubles to Mama Liz, the woman who cares for us volunteers, before I once again trekked back up to the school.

Bibi! Bibi! The children called out when they saw me. Isaac, the director, was there with a boda boda he had hired to try to find me while Elizabeth, the teacher (and his wife) was still scouring the mountainside for me. She told me she passed many of the same people I had and they indicated that they had, in fact, seen this woman in the white shirt with a red pack on her back at various times. In as much as I am the anomaly in their world, there is the likelihood that the whole Maasai village probably got a good laugh at my expense. Crazy white woman….

Now here’s the kicker…most of the people here materialistically have very little, but many many have cell phones and had I purchased one like most all of the other volunteers I could have just called to let them know…well maybe not exactly where I was, but some landmark that might ring a bell. Needless to say, I’ll be remedying that situation as soon as possible. Thrifty and safety must be in alignment.

But, all’s well that ends well and the children now know the fruit, the word, as well as the taste of banana, which believe it or not, some had no knowledge. And I am brought to my knees with gratitude.

Yours Truly,

Bibi

(Respectful Prefix like Miss, Mrs., Ms.)

Headache Over Amsterdam

deborah_brower — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 02:30:00 GMT

Personal space was of the minimum as I flew from Pittsburgh to Detroit to Amsterdam with an accompanying headache unfortunately taking up the lion's share of the focus. The distractions of movies however have always served me well in coping with upleasant circumstances and the selection offered on the planes proved to do the trick; my favorite being the KITE RUNNER. That and a big cup of coffee in the Amsterdam airport put me in good shape for the second half.

Arriving in Tanzania I was both relieved and excited despite the weariness.

Preparation

deborah_brower — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 05:05:00 GMT

...get the last of the immunization innoculations, call to have an international alert on bank cards, get five photos for visas, pick up cash in high denominations no earlier than 2006, choose a gift for host family, buy the all purpose sandals....these and many other details occupy the forefront of my brain these days. With April, Friday the 13th, swiftly approaching it is clear to me how much of our general activity revolves around "stuff". It is a fine line, I think, between what we need and might love and what ends up just taking up space and effort. Will discern what is important in life during all of this, I have no doubt.

Photos: Tanzania

deborah_brower — Fri, 9 Mar 2012 07:57:00 GMT

Preparation

Evolving

deborah_brower — Fri, 9 Mar 2012 07:32:00 GMT

This "calling" has been years in the works and I am no more free to serve and explore in a global capacity than I am right now. The evolution of body seems to be progressing a bit fast than the soul, but maybe that is comparing apples to oranges anyway and not emotionally fruitful. So while gravity continues to pull on the extremities, I will simply acknowledge that I am healthy and flexible and armed with fortitude to rise to the occasion however it presents itself.

Originally I somewhat naively intended to locate gainful employment in some region of Tanzania. However, in the interest of time, I have opted to volunteer in Arusha as a means of researching and experiencing first hand a bit of Africa. What comes forward as result remains to be seen and will enrich my life nonetheless.

The Calling

Where Oh Where is Bibi?

Headache Over Amsterdam

Preparation

Photos: Tanzania

Evolving