2inspire...and Binspired

Giving in to the "nothing"

honeyknuckles — Sun, 22 Sep 2013 18:57:00 GMT

Yesterday, I asked Frank what he was doing today, Sunday. He just looked at me and said “It’s Sunday”. As if that was supposed to answer my question. And I guess, ultimately it did. Nothing happens here on Sunday. Many shops are closed, and unless you are in the middle of town, the streets are only scattered with life here and there. I ended up not going out last night and decided to stay in and read. I’m loving a book they have here at the Blu Palm called “Scribbling the Cat”. The writing makes me want to be a better writer. I have to give you an excerpt I read a few moments ago that had me nodding in agreement...yes!

“In late December I went home to my husband and to my children and to the post-Christmas chaos of a resort town, but instead of feeling glad to be back, I was dislocated and depressed. It should not be physically possible to get from the banks of the Pepani River to Wyoming in less than two days, because mentally and emotionally it is not possible. The shock is too much, the contrast too raw. We should sail or swim or walk from Africa, letting bits of her drop out of us, and gradually, in this way, assimilate the excesses and liberties of the States in tiny, incremental sips, maybe touring up through South America and Mexico before trying to stomach the land of the Free and the Brave.

Because now the real, wonderful world around me-the place where we had decided to live with our children, because it had seemed like an acceptable compromise between my Zambia and my husband’s America- felt suddenly pointless and trivial and almost insultingly frivolous. The shops were crappy with a Christmas hangover, too loud and brash. Everything was 50 percent off. There was nothing challenging about being here, at least not on the surface. The new year’s party I attended was bloated with people complaining about the weight they had put on over Christmas. I feigned malaria and went home to bed for a week.”

She goes on to write that she’s not judging it and she’s actually wanting to enjoy the ease of living in the US but that she just couldn’t. At least not for months until the memory of Africa faded. I felt that way when I left here last year and I had only been here for two weeks. I felt that way every time I left Burning Man and I was only there for one week each time! That’s why Burning Man has a “decompression party” about a month after. There is something about coming to a land where things are not easy, where there aren’t convenience stores on every corner. Where people have to rely on each other a bit more. There is something about it that just sticks to my soul and doesn’t let go for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE efficiency and convenience. I might even be addicted to it. But when finding a little shop in the middle of town where I can buy mayo to make an egg sandwhich out of my breakfast fried egg (or whatever it is, I’m not really sure)...when that feels like an accomplishment, when finally discovering a cafe that has pretty consistent internet feels like a success...there’s something magical about it. I think when things are too easy, we lose our ability to be grateful about the little things. We forget about how awesome it is to figure things out, when usually it’s just a google search away. I think if everyone were to travel somewhere like this...even if only to the nicest places in Europe where you realize things take some effort...I think the US would be a place of appreciation rather than entitlement.

Ok, I’m off my soap box for a bit. It’s late (because apparently 10pm is late for me now) and I’m sitting alone in the living room, a large square with tiled floor, a credenza loaded with books, and three chairs in the middle of the room painted in a sky blue that look like they are actually meant to be outdoor furniture. I’m happy that I can write offline and then just copy/paste to my blog when I am online. That way the memories are fresh rather than re-hashed. It is quiet here, minus the party or club of some sort that is either close-by or maybe sound just really travels here. It sounds like a live band and they are playing the longest song known to man. I mean, hours of the same song. Or possibly different songs with the exact same few chords and tone. I guess that’s how mariache music sounds to me too hahaha...however this sounds like bad lounge music but in Swahili. Dogs bark in the background (and I still hear the yappers). The hum of the old fridge is actually more like a rattling chatter in the other room. Crickets continue to chirp to each other, and every now and again I will hear the ring of our Masai guard’s cell phone with a quick answer of “eh?” followed by a flow of words I can’t yet understand. I’m determined to learn more Swahili prior to my next trip!

I suppose I should head to bed soon after I enjoy a bit more of the book. I’m glad I gave in to the “we do nothing here on Sunday” vibe. I woke up early for breakfast, then read, then took a nap, then wrote and wrote and wrote, then went to Fifi’s cafe for a salad and to upload my writing. I ran into my family of housemates as they came in to dine at Fifi’s (upon my recommendation) where we joked about the special for kids this week- smiling octopus sausage swimming in a sea of potatoes (that disappointingly ended up just being a hot dog carved into an octopus shape)- then headed home for more reading. Kind of a perfect day. Or..not kind of. Perfect.

I only have four more full days here. It’s crazy how slow and fast this trip has been! I opted to not take my days off to Zanzibar or even an overnight trip to see elephants at the lake. I just feel there is so much I still want to do at the project that I wouldn’t enjoy myself on a “vacation” elsewhere. I’m happy with that decision. I think it’s sunk in for Frank too as he’s scheduled things back to back to accomplish this week, which is uncharacteristic of him. I’m sure our talk helped some/added some pressure as well.

I’ll finish up my glass of “lush red” South African wine, dive in to my book a bit more, then crawl under my mozzie net to get some zzz. I’m trying not to feel sad yet about leaving and instead focus on the moments as they happen. And in this moment...the same four chords play over and over in the background while I type. Wait! What is that? Silence? Oh man….silence. Party is over. Now just the bark of dogs that I’ve gotten so used to I almost don’t hear anymore. Good night, Moshi, Tz. We get to start our last few days together in just a few hours.

The Founding Mothers...

honeyknuckles — Sat, 21 Sep 2013 18:52:00 GMT

I lay in bed waiting until the last minute before I have to get up. The roosters woke me up long ago, along with the smell of burning. Always the smell of burning. Everyone burns their trash here and I feel like that smell has permeated my skin.

Today is our first parent/teacher meeting. We sent letters home with the kids and asked if the parents could meet us at 10am on Saturday. Frank and I figured that would mean 11am in Tanzanian time, but when I got a text from him saying “they are here, early, just waiting for you” I had to scramble! Very uncharacteristic of anyone to be early here. This is a good sign. A very good sign. They want to be involved. They want to know us. They want to participate in their children’s future. Very exciting.

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I arrive via taxi and Frank and the teachers, along with Chupa and Siagi and another random dog that seemed to want to know what the hussle and bussle was all about, were all waiting outside the gates for me. It was still before 10 and somehow I felt like I was late. Frank briefed me that everyone minus one parent was in the school, and he asked if I could say something. I hadn’t really planned for that and immediately got a bit nervous. What could I say, as an outsider, that would make them feel comfortable and welcome and encouraged and empowered? I’m so much better at observing than speaking off the cuff, but I told Frank I could at least introduce myself. He joked that I had to do it all in Swahili. Very funny. I put my trust in his translation abilities.

I walked in to the room to see that Frank had pulled in the desk from the office and somewhere he’d found two extra chairs. Five women sat in the children’s desks and the two teachers, Frank and I sat in front, facing them. Three women were draped in the bright traditional fabrics of Tanzania and the other two were younger, more modern dressing moms. All sat waiting patiently. Frank started speaking, introducing himself although they already knew him and then introduced me. He translated when he could and mostly I read body language and energy. The teacher spoke, Frank spoke some more, there was a bit of back and forth with the mothers and then Frank asked if I could say something. I stood, welcomed them. I said that I was proud to be a part of this project, that I’m honored that they’ve allowed their children to attend and that they’ve entrusted us with them. I said I was proud of Frank and what he’s accomplished and that I’ve seen the teachers with the children and that they are amazing. Frank translated for me and I received nods and “asante sana” as I sat down, heart thumping. At one point when I had started, and for some reason when using the word “proud”, I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes started to swell in the realization of what was taking place. I felt the culmination of all the work we’ve done in the last year an a half well up wrapping itself in the word “proud”. I recovered quickly though, not letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m not sure how that would have gone over. Maybe I should have just let it happen. I believe they felt my sincerity though.

I encouraged them to speak and asked if they had questions. That is when the grandmother of Method started to speak and even though I didn’t know what she was saying, a flood of emotion and connection and gratitude filled the room. She had covered her face with her shawl for much of the meeting prior to this, stifling tears, and now she let it out, wanting us to know her story. That she had been praying for someone to help her. Praying to God that someone would see her challenges and provide some assistance with her grandson who had been abondoned and left for her to care for. She didn’t have money to put him through school and could barely feed and clothe him. She wanted us to know how touched and grateful she is that we are giving her hope for Method’s future. It takes so much burden from her, knowing that we are caring for him at this age and that we want to see him succeed in life. Frank didn’t translate for me until I asked him after, but I felt it. Then the other mothers chimed in with similar stories of sorrow and challenges, each saying they’ve already seen improvements with their children. Isaack, the boy who joined us only two days ago and rarely speaks in class, has been going home telling his mother “the teacher wants us to do this homework” and then he pulls out his book from the KCP backpack with his name on it. She says he’s already improved in two days time. That hit me hard. The other mothers shared the same… that the kids are more lively, have more fun. Are more interactive and playful. They are being kids! Things just got really real. It’s one thing to be with the kids every day, but to get feedback from their parents is a whole other bag of goodies. I felt so honored to be sitting in front of them, hearing their stories. This completely solidified for me the work we’ve started here. Imagine when the room is packed with single parents or grandparents, or aunts and uncles left to take care for abandoned kids. Imagine how powerful that will be!

At the end, Frank asked if I could share what it’s like in the US. Some struggles we might face. At first, I wasn’t sure what to say, but then I went back to my roots and told my story of how I grew up on government food and hand-me down clothes. How my mother would make our clothes for us, and new clothes for me were when my sister would grow out of hers and I would get them. I said how many families in the US struggle too and only a small percentage are truly rich. But that as a child I didn’t know we were lacking, that we were living below poverty level. And that I see that of the children here too. Kids are kids here or there. That if we love them and let them know we are invested in them, they will never feel that they are lacking. I spoke of the gratitude I have for my parents...that they instilled in me the belief that I could be whoever I wanted to be and do whatever I wanted to do. I didn’t know limitations. I only knew that if I wanted to do something, my parent’s would encourage and support me. And that alone made me dream and believe anything was possible. And that is what I wanted to bring to the kids here. I told them how important it is to not put limitations on the children. To let them dream and encourage them to study and be curious and question things. Frank interpreted for me every few sentences as the words flew out of my mouth...and it felt as if the nodding and agreement got bigger and bigger and I realized that we really were not only helping the kids but their caretakers. We were also giving them hope! I can’t even begin to describe the feeling in that room. I am so proud of my team, of the four of us.

We told the parents that they are now the ambassadors for the school and to bring others to us with the same stories. That we would do everything we could to help. I explained that I am not rich, but that I work really hard to share our vision with others in order to get financial support and sponsors...people who also believe in our project and are willing to donate. Frank told them how we do all different types of things like running marathons and selling artwork in order to fund the project. And we encouraged them to think of things they might be able to do where we could support them with a portion of the income coming back to the project. The women chimed in talking about a women’s empowerment group they’ve formed where they chip in a set amount and then buy and sell basic needs within the group to raise money for a business idea...but that they haven’t figured out what that business is yet. I really want to tap into that and get them involved with our school and yet help them at the same time! That’s what I’ve wanted all along.

I told Frank I’d like to give them a tour of the grounds so we went outside and I became the tour guide, showing them where we will put the playground, pointing out the garden we’ve started and where we want our chicken coupe. I told Frank to get on the tire swing to show them how it’s done (as I pushed him) and there was laughter from the women as I encourged them to try it out. No one braved it this time, but I think someone might jump on at the next meeting. :)

After the women exchanged numbers, chatted and took pictures with us, Frank and I hung out for awhile just basking in the glow of what just happened. We were all smiles and felt so encouraged by what had just happened. The challenges of the past two weeks faded away and a new beginning popped up through the rubble like a beautiful phoenix. A New Tomorrow Nursery & Day Care. We’ve only just begun. I feel like we just had a monumental meeting with the Founding Fathers. Or in this case, the mothers, grandmothers and aunts.

Catharsis and what comes after...

honeyknuckles — Fri, 20 Sep 2013 00:37:00 GMT

“Because when we are all dust and teeth and kicked-up bits of skin- when we’re dancing with our own skeletons- our words might be all that’s left of us.” ~ Alexandra Fuller from Scribbling the Cat, travels with an African soldier

I love writing this blog, and I wonder why I don’t have one for my everyday life...not just when I travel. It so cathartic and helps chronical events rather than let things mesh together while time slips away from me. Since my last post, I’ve experienced a whirlwind of emotions. On Thursday I walked into town with Jenny and her son Levin (two of my house mates), charged my phone, then proceeded to try three different cafes for internet service. At all three, the answer was “no” blaming the clouds looming above. I gave in to the fact I would be going one more day without service, stopped at the bank and then to a little supermarket. There, I picked up pasta, coffee and a bottle of wine. A glass of wine when I got home sounded like heaven at this point. I hadn’t heard from Frank all day which increased my frustration. I don’t understand this culture’s work ethic. I’m not putting it down, because I think Americans work way too many hours...but there has to be some middle ground when we are working together, and I’m struggling to find it. Frank’s “busy” is definitely not my busy. I do realize that not many people have the same definition so I’m really trying to go with the flow, however, I’m finding the need to stick a paddle in the water to push it along a bit.

By the time I went to bed (at 9pm) my mind was spinning. Is this the right project for me? Is Frank the right partner? Is this the right building and location? Am I doing this for the right reasons? My mind whirled for hours as I lay in bed, crying to God, asking for guidance and wisdom. I just want to be clear and not govern my actions based on emotions or ego. Frustration with Frank and the project, frustration with how even simple things can be challenging here, frustration with the heat and always being dirty, frustration with the itch of my mosquito bites (although thankfully few), frustration with my time here quickly coming to an end...all bound itself tight into the pit of my stomach creating a nice big, solid knot. As tears streamed down the sides of my face onto my pillow, I gave in to my exhaustion and put trust into knowing God will provide the answers at the perfect time. I finally fell into a deep sleep.

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Friday…

I met Frank at the project, knot still in my stomach. I don’t like confrontation but I knew we had a tough conversation coming up and I wasn’t sure how it would all unfold. Upon greeting, he confided that he had a pretty emotional day himself and did nothing. Rather than feeling empathy, however, my first thought was “I still have to work when I have an emotional day! I get them every month!” I didn’t let my anger rise, though, and instead took a deep breath. With the children inside learning to count, Frank and I sat outside on the steps with a new little boy nicknamed Brown sitting between us as he was not yet ready to face his new classmates, or school at all for that matter. At every break between difficult topics being addressed, I would try to get Brown to smile or engage. Sometimes I was successful. He has these glittery shoes much too big for him, but when he would stomp his feet they would light up. Each time he did, I would make a face and he would laugh. I think he was starting to warm to us. An interesting combo of events taking place at the same time, on the same set of steps. Thanking God at every breath, I was grateful that the tension lessoned between Frank and I after each topic and I felt myself wanting to encourage him rather than scold or be angry. I really had no idea which way this conversation would go and I’m happy to say I think we are back on track. It’s clearer to me how our partnership needs to work and I still believe it’s the partnership I’m supposed to be in...for both of us.

At that moment, a teacher ran out to tell us Mary had counted to 10 on her own and we needed to find something to reward her with! This is huge! I haven’t heard a single word from Mary in two weeks and barely a smile. How perfect that I happened to bring the last pair of silver glittery shoes today and that they fit her like they were made for her. She was more shy when we came in to see her do it again, as she took a stick pointing to the numbers on the board, but she did it. We all clapped in delight, which I don’t think she really understood, as much too large shoes were taken off and the new shiny shoes put on her. She just blinked at us with those big, watery eyes but I imagine at least some of that sunk in. It also showed the other students that they will be rewarded when they do well. The rest of the day continued to get better and better as we played with the kids and wrapped up our conversation after they left. It was also a day of photos as we put the smallest of the t-shirts donated by One World Works (even still much too large) on the kids and and got some fun shots.

After school I took a cab over to Neema to pick her and the kids up to go shopping in town. It was Neema, Irene, Glory and a boy named Peter who was sponsored last year by some friends who gave me money this year for him, wanting to continue the sponsorship. It was so fun! The kids needed shoes, backpacks, underwear...and some lunch. There aren’t really shoe shops. Instead, there is Market Street where the street is lined with items (mostly shoes) laid out on tarps. I’m not sure where these shoes come from as there is no rhyme or reason and there are no two exactly same. But this is how it’s done. We stopped and the kids tried on shoes for school and for church or home. I bought them each two pair. Next were the backpacks. Every one of them they picked up had something written in Chinese haha...I was determined to find ones that didn’t. It took a bit of searching but Irene found a bright red canvas bag, Glory one with many pockets made of denim and Peter’s was a perfect fit for him in gray and black. We loaded the shoes and undies into each bag and headed to a little place where we ate kabobs, along with something resembling a hot pocket and drank orange fanta. Neema’s stomach was in a bad way and it was good for us to sit awhile. I worry about her. The doctors don’t really know what is wrong but she’s in constant pain. She conceals it well, poor thing. After that, we went to the bookstore to pick up a syllabus for our school. While Neema was negotiating with the sellers, Peter and Irene and I walked across the parking lot to listen to a live marching band practicing outside the Luthren church. I’m sure it was a funny sight, the three of us marching in place in the middle of a vacant lot. But it was worth it to see them smile.

As the sun started to set I felt the kids needed to have milkshakes before the cab picked them up to take them home. We sat down at the Coffee Lounge and had one of each flavor...chocolate, strawberry, vanilla and coffee (that one was for me). It was hard to tell how much they really liked them (first time!), as they were all pretty exhausted from walking so much, but I think it was a telling sign that there was not a drop left when the driver picked them up. They all got hugs and kisses from me before putting them into the cab to send them home. A successful day of shopping for sure.

Tonight, I was invited out by Katie and her friends, had some interesting chicken and potato thing with some beers then headed to Glacier, a large outdoor bar complete with a live band that was hit or miss on the songs played. It was a great place for people watching as it was a mix of locals, volunteers and backpackers. I, of course, came with some of the blinkie toys to gift to my new friends. They were a hit.

Tomorrow, I get to meet the parents. I'm grateful for the challenges I've faced here, as it makes the successes that much sweeter. I'm excited to meet the parents of the kids we are teaching, as I feel it will solidify everything we've done to this point. Onward and upward!

Full Moon

honeyknuckles — Wed, 18 Sep 2013 00:33:00 GMT

What would you do with no phone, no tv, no internet, no bar or restaurant, knowing it’s not safe to go out at night unless accompanied by a local you trust? Since there’s no way to call that local because you happened to purchase the wrong phone credit, you would feel a bit trapped. I do. Thank God for Grace, the hostel host. She let me put the credit on her phone and at least call the only place that delivers dinner - a Chinese restaurant. Even then….more rice!

I had a pretty frustrating day to be honest. I didn’t sleep well in the new place. With nothing to do, I had gone to bed early, therefore woke up early, then every couple of hours, due to noises outside the window. I had been given a room different than what was shown to me and the bed was smaller and the room up front toward the gate so I really could hear everything. And SOMEONE has yappy dogs. A lot of them. The only dogs I’ve seen in this town are Moshi dogs. They all look pretty wild and are medium sized. Not a single yapper. They bark enough to be annoying, but nothing like a little yapper. Some ex-pat neighbor must have shipped over the little ones and then put them outside at night to annoy all the neighbors. I’m actually surprised no one has poisoned them (and no, I will not be poisoning them). Anyway, I had the day planned to meet Neema at 8:30 at Khuba and then go to look at a school called the Light House that was working really well, just to get a sense of another project. Then I was going to meet “the ward” that potentially had a building Neema could run her own school in. I just wanted to get the information for future. After that, I would take Neema to our project to meet the teachers, the kids and see Frank. Perfect plan. I had told my piki piki (motorcycle driver) to come at 8:15. No one is ever on time here but at 8:30 I asked him if he was still coming. He said yes but that I had told him 8:50. Big sigh. So, my day started late, AND I was groggy, AND I’m crampy, AND it’s the full moon haha….grrrr

We got to the Light House and it looked like they were doing really well. They had 15 children from babies up to about 6 years old. They sang some songs for us and even the littlest ones knew Father Abraham. I spoke to the teacher a bit and it made me think about how much we are paying our teachers for the time spent teaching compared to these teachers. They are 6 days a week and we are only 3 half days right now with half the amount of kids. I know bringing this up with Frank will cause him to think I’m doubting him but it has to be discussed. We left there and walked to talk to the ward of the other building. They would be able to meet us at 11 but it was 10:15 and we needed to get to the project. It’s hot, dusty, I’m a bit crabby and did I mention tired and crampy? Neema called two drivers and off we went to the project. Class was in session, Neema said hello to Frank then went in to meet the kids. We have one more boy, Isaack. Sweet, quiet boy and we think he’s about 4. I went out to have a chat with Frank which generally doesn’t start off well (when it’s serious stuff) but ends ok. He finds my questioning as a personal attack but it’s really just me making observations of how successful schools are run, and I’ve always learned if you want to be successful, copy those that work! However, in this culture people get offended when comparing your school to other schools- who’s is better, etc. It’s really silly and it was a frustrating conversation and I am still a bit frustrated, but these are necessary conversations to have if we are to move forward. Maneuvering around deep cultural differences has been more challenging than imagined but I’m so grateful to be able to be here to do so!

The kids are outside. I’m standing inside listening to Neema and Frank argue about the syllabus. Every once in awhile I step in to mediate when business mixes with personal. Our two teachers are sitting silently observing, looking a bit uncomfortable. Then I look outside to the highlight of my day- seeing our Masai guard/gardener and James our volunteer, pushing the kids on the new tire swing. We have a tire swing! The first piece of our playground. The children are squealing with joy and I let myself get lost in the moment. This is why we are here. Regardless of our differences, of the drama of clashing personalities, of the cultural challenges...we are here to put smiles on these little faces and knowledge in their heads. In this moment, nothing else matters. In this moment, today is an awesome day.

The cab dropped Neema back at the school and Frank and James in town. I headed back to the Hibiscus to pick up my luggage and move to their sister hostel called Blu Palm a block away. This one is only $15 a night and I get a bigger bed/room and hopefully some peace and quiet. There is only one family here other than me. I chat with them a bit and then walk into town to meet up with Secky, a street artist I met last year. After being guilted into buying a piece of artwork (even though I do really like it) I wanted to meet up with James for dinner or a drink but I couldn’t get my phone credit to work (because I purchased the wrong one). While I was typing in the code, a man tried to snatch my phone out of my hand. Quick reflexes and a dirty look made him keep walking. It’s a pretty crappy phone- he wouldn’t have gotten much for it. :) I am actually surprised he tried that in broad daylight because I’m told if you yell “thief” the crowd turns into a mob mentality and beats the thief sometimes to death depending on the crowd. I’ll be careful not to yell that unless absolutely necessary. I’m not anticipating that it will be necessary. I’m a believer in the energy you put out there is what you get back and I’m really good about believing nothing bad will happen...and things really don’t happen to me that seem to happen to others. However, I was talking to a tourist that kept saying things that she was afraid of “don’t do this and don’t do that or these things happen” etc, and I started to become aware that I was letting that fear sink in as the sun started to set. That’s when the man tried to grab my phone. That might seem new-agey to some, but after taking a moment to adjust my thoughts, I felt fine. I’m not stupid, though, and headed back to the Blu Palm before dark since I know it’s not safe for me to be walking around after the sun goes down, and since I hadn’t been able to get a hold of anyone, I had few options. I made it back, of course, without incident.

Tonight the family staying here with me is out and it’s just Grace, a 22 year old who lives in the back house (I don’t think she ever leaves) and takes care of the guests, the Masai warrior guarding the house, and me. I finished my Chinese delivery and warm coke. Power just cut out so I’m sitting in the dark with my laptop, wondering how long I have until the battery dies. Looks like it’s another early night for me. Tomorrow I’ll walk into town and get credit put back on my phone- this time the right one. Maybe I can find a bike to rent. I bet my taxi driver has one he’d rent to me. That will be a new adventure!

Tonight I’ll spend some time in prayer- prayer for patience, prayer for guidance, prayer for divine connections with other like-minded people. I feel myself trying to control things and I really just need to hand over the reins...

Week one down

honeyknuckles — Mon, 16 Sep 2013 23:53:00 GMT

So. Much. Rice. I probably won’t eat rice for a while when I’m back home!

One week down, two to go. I’ve had a bit of writers block it seems the last few days. Or maybe I just hadn’t taken the time to sit down and do it. However, it’s been a pretty packed time away from the computer. On Friday morning, Frank and I went to visit Josephine’s school in Shanty because we were told she has a nice playground and we wanted to get in touch with the builder (or fundi). Josephine is lovely. She is a Kenyan woman with a good heart and started her own school for kids the same age as ours two years ago. The difference is she started the school as a business and has had nothing but trouble as a single woman, as an outsider and now has too much competition in the area from other schools. Her school is not doing well and she wishes now she would have started the school as an NGO (nonprofit) like ours instead. I feel for her. I can tell she has put a lot of money into making the school nice and now her numbers have dwindled to about the same amount of children that we have. I’m happy to meet her though as she will be a good source of information and is willing to help out any way she can. The playground she has is way too expensive for us at 3 million tzh (almost $2000). We are going to have the fundi come out and price something smaller and give us a deal since we are nonprofit. We will see.

Friday afternoon, I got to see Neema, Irene and Glory! Neema is the teacher I volunteered with and Irene and Glory are the two girls I sponsor. I took a cab from the project to Moshi Airport School where they were having graduation for the older students. It’s an English Medium school, meaning they teach English in all classes and one Swahili class (as apposed to all Swahili and one English class in public Primary). This is better for them since after primary school they start secondary, which is taught in English. If they don’t get more English training in primary, they are most likely going to fail getting into Secondary. The system is pretty messed up and the students are set up for failure in the public schools. English Medium costs more, but if I want to give these girls a fighting chance, it’s worth it. Neema waited for me outside and would hardly let me get out of the cab before she was screaming and hugging me haha… that’s a nice greeting! After her exclamations of missing me, her dada (sister) and lots of hugs, we went into the ceremony. I’m glad I came in at the end because it was all in Swahili. Speeches by the big wigs are generally boring enough as it is, so imagine not understanding a word! After the ceremony, we got into the cue for lunch and it was madness! I was pushed until I almost knocked over the water tub for hand washing. I pushed my way back out of the cue and told Neema I wasn’t that hungry. I don’t do well in hungry mobs or any crowd that starts to push. She ended up grabbing a plate that we shared and some nice gentleman gave us some more of his. It was seriously insane for a group of well dressed parents. But the bad energy all disappeared when after looking for Irene for a long time we finally spotted her and she us. I opened up my arms and she ran and ran and jumped up on me into a huge hug. That was an even better greeting than Neema’s! I actually didn’t expect that from this shy little girl who I thought may not even remember me. I missed that little one! After that we walked back to Neema’s small one room home where four people live and I got to see Glory too. I gave the girls their gifts and scarves for Neema and her sister. Then I handed out the blinkie toys and I hadn’t expected to also have all the neighbor kids over but thankfully I had enough toys. I’ll bring more next time. As I waited for my cab and chatted with Neema, I would sometimes brush a small cockroach off my arm, or neck, trying to not make it look like I was about to freak out haha...I didn’t want to offend her. At one point the chicken walked in and out of the room as well. It took forever to get the cab and by the time I got home across town, it was already late. I had a drink and some dinner at the bar with the other travelers and headed to bed.

Saturday I went out with one of the volunteers and definitely needed Sunday to recover. I was going to try to go to Neema’s church to see her sing in the choir but it started at 7:30am! I don’t do mornings. Especially after a late night. Instead, I invited her and the girls to come swim at the pool at the Honey Badger and I would pay for the cab. A car full showed up with two neighbor girls totaling two adults and 4 kids. None of them had ever been swimming before, didn’t have suits and didn’t quite know what to do. I luckily still had some clothes in my room that had been donated, so I grabbed t-shirts for the girls and they swam in their undies. It was so much fun and I can’t wait to post photos! (I could do a whole post on the frustrations of internet connectivity, but I won’t. You get the idea.)

I stayed another night at Honey Badger while I sorted out my room situation. I finally landed at a little B&B in town for $23/night including breakfast. They don’t have internet here though so I purchased a modem. Unfortunately, even though I love my little chromebook computer, it’s not compatible with anything requiring software so I couldn’t get the modem to work. It looks like I’ll be making some treks into town to spend some time at the internet cafes!

I go to bed really early here it seems. I’m exhausted and always dirty. Today (Tuesday) I spent at Khuba Nursery and got to see some of the kids I met last year. Neema really is a great teacher and I wish I had enough money to give her a school of her own too. Maybe one day.

A welcomed guest

honeyknuckles — Fri, 13 Sep 2013 05:55:00 GMT

I’m enjoying my first ever sugar cane, straight from the cane. It was a gift from Frank’s uncle who I met in Urru village where his bibi (grandma) lives. He chopped it down for us as we made our way out of the trees to the road. Sharp blade- wack, wack wack wack...and we had three yard long pieces to take with us. They also gifted us with a chicken who I aptly named Gladis (just the first name that came to me- seems to fit). She will provide some eggs for our kids breakfast at the project. Now we have a rooster, I named Stoney, and Gladis. We aim to have maybe 20 chickens to feed the kids breakfast without having to ask for fundraising. Our gardener is also growing a garden too for their lunches but also to teach the kids how to grow. I love our Masai gardener. He smiles and waves a lot. Apparently he chased down three thieves the other day and took them in to the police. They had stolen a tv and some other items a couple houses down and somehow he brought in all three by himself. Other guys from their tribe threatened him later saying they will find him because they know he was the one to catch them, and in his own words said “bring it”. He’s my new favorite person.

I’m also enjoying a nice glass of 4000 tz shilling white wine. Sounds fancy, yes? That equates to about $2.50 and prices are actually higher here at the lodge than in town. I can deal with that. It comes from a box, but I’m not picky. I’ve been speaking with the bartender, Angel, who has been working at Honey Badger for about a year. She lost her parents a few years ago but made her way to college getting a degree in Hotel Management. She’s the second youngest to four older brothers and a younger sister. She’s 21. She’s helping me with my Swahili. In return, I gave her a sparkly diamond ring (a toy ring that lights up, donated by my friend Jodi).

Speaking of sparkly toys…

Today Frank took me to one of the villages we are focusing on for our school. It’s the village he lived in until he was 8 when he one day decided he wanted more out of life and jumped onto a bus into town, where he proceeded to live on the streets until he was 10 or 12 before finding a center for street kids. The years kind of blend in together for him. Can you imagine making that decision at 8??? Seeing where Frank is now compared to his family, it’s obviously paid off, but it was not an easy road. Now he wants to help the children of his uncles get an education so they don’t have to leave home for a better life.

Frank’s bibi is delightful. She doesn’t speak any English but we got along just fine. She was upset with Frank because he always comes unannounced, but if he were to let them know then they would spend money and resources to make it special and he didn’t want the burden of that. I totally get it. But I also totally get where his bibi is coming from. She wants to be prepared! They made due though. The bibi and all the sons, daughters and children live on the same property. It’s a large property where they grow their own food. They are totally self sustaining- they have crops and chickens and they can walk to access water. As I was introduced, they welcomed me into one of their homes. Before that, however, I followed Frank around the corner to the back of the home and he bowed his head. I put my hand on his back, not sure of what was making him sad, but eventually he turned and said, “this is where my grandfather is buried”. He died not long ago and since Frank’s father left when he was a baby, his grandfather was all he knew as a father figure. I felt honored to share such a sensitive moment with Frank.

The aunts, uncles and bibi ushered us into her home, a mud/grass hut the size of my walk in closet (I cringe as I write that). They gave us wooden chairs and stools to sit on- one stool that has been around since Frank was a child. The floor was compact dirt...and a little mud. There was a curtain separating the “living room” from probably what was a bedroom where bibi slept. She smiled and took my hand, saying something in Swahili. She had one eye that worked and her head was shaved, showing off a beautiful gray stubble that I wanted to touch but didn’t dare to. Her daughter brought in a small bucket of something liquidy. She handed it to Frank, who was clearly the man of honor, and he blew on it as if it were hot, then drank. He passed it to his uncle and then it was passed to me. It was not hot. Frank said it was the “banana drink” and I forget the swahili word for it but it was essentially a local beer. Fermented wheat and flour and banana. The tradition is to blow on it to move the top layer away so you can drink the liquid without going through the top foam. So...I blew on it, and drank. Interesting. I asked how long it was fermented and he said a day, which doesn’t sound right considering I’ve brewed my own Kombucha which takes at least 6 days...but maybe the wheat and flour is fermented before adding the banana? Anyway, I drank and passed it to bibi. Round and round it went. I skipped my turn once and passed from Frank to bibi and she just looked at me like she didn’t know what to do. I guess it was rude for me to pass without drinking! haha...I didn’t make that mistake again.

Frank and his family continued to chat and every once in awhile Frank would fill me in on the discussion. Frank asked if I could hand out the gifts now and I pulled out the clothes and toys I brought with me, one at a time so they could decide which child it would fit. I really did feel like santa claus, except I got to stay and watch. Each piece of clothing I brought out they would chatter and then agree on the kid it would fit. The child would come in, take the shirt or bottoms, say “asante” and leave. I would respond with “karibu” and smile as they shyly backed out of the room to try on their new clothes. As each item was handed out, I would sometimes see the previous kids come in with their new clothes. Somehow, each item I brought, sifted out from the 4 huge bags that were donated before my trip, somehow...each item fit the child perfectly. I mean...perfectly. And it didn’t matter if it was hot out, the little boys wore their new jackets with pride for hours!

Then came the toys. The beanie babies were donated by my mom, and we had a great game of toss the beanie baby afterword. The really little ones were still shy of me and didn’t know what to think of the gifts, but the older ones took them and ran. The most fun part for me was when I brought out these little cars that have an elastic band to wrap around the finger. Turn it on and it emits a light that shoots out from your finger. I put them on my fingers to demonstrate- a blue one, green one, white one...turned them on and since it was dark in that little room, they lit up and I heard squeals of joy from the kids as well as the adults. I took them off my fingers and put them on Frank’s bibi’s fingers. She said “torche!” I think those few minutes of playing with the “flashlights” may have been the highlight of my day, especially because his grandmother got such a kick out of it. I then showed her how to turn them off and she stowed them away somewhere safe. I have a feeling those will be more useful than just fun toys. Now that I think of it, I remember as a child always wanting to go back in time to show my toys or gadgets to people from 100 years ago because it would be so fun to introduce them to such amazing things. Well, I pretty much just got my wish. :)

I think I could write pages about my adventure in Urru today. I played with the children for hours as Frank talked with his family. Actually, I think they mostly watched and at the end Frank said they told him I have a lot of energy haha… well, I just know I have limited time so I don’t care how much the children wear me out, I will go as long as they go.

I was invited back into the hut because Frank told them we hadn’t eaten lunch. His aunt had cooked up the two eggs she had shown us earlier and I simply could not refuse. Then came the hand washing and the pork and bananas. There were 6 or 7 of us in the small hut and we each took meat and cooked bananas out of the pots from the middle of the room. The pork was actually amazing, minus the bones I had to maneuver through. Really tasty. The bananas were ok, but really dry. Then more hand washing and I went back out to play with the kids.

After retrieving Gladis and the sugar cane, they all welcomed me back to join them again and I hope to be able to. His bibi (barefooted) complained of pain in her feet and as much as I don’t prescribe drugs, I’m going to give her my bottle of Ibuprofen. Some anti-inflam just might help for a bit. I wish I had something else to offer right now. Honestly, I really would like to go back before I leave to clean her feet and give her a foot massage. It’s heavy on my heart to do so...so I should make that happen. Maybe even paint her nails. The only color I have with me is neon green though! Haha that would be awesome.

On the drive back home Frank and I spoke about his family and I really got to see a glimpse into his life before the project. He’s very protective of that information, so I was happy he shared it with me. The drive TO the project was a bit different as we had to discuss a volunteer that Frank had trouble with and yet I want to give him a chance. It was heated, almost an argument (I actually had to say "would you please stop talking and hear me out"), but ultimately we agreed to give him a probation period. Though any of you who know me, an agreement means we try it my way, no argument, and if it fails, I will back down. But we will always take the risk to give someone a second chance. And in this case...it’s probably his fifth or sixth chance with Frank- but the second chance with me. I had no idea I had to be a mediator to clashing personalities when I got here. But I’m learning a lot, more than I could ever know from a distance, and it’s valuable information. I always just pray God gives me the wisdom to make the right choices. I believe he’s implanted that wisdom into me, but a backup prayer asking for wisdom sure doesn’t hurt.

I haven't really written about yesterday, but it was a very productive day. I brought over the rest of the supplies and the teachers organized them into the bins we purchased and then I had them make a list of the rest of the things they needed/wanted. It feels like we are really making progress! I met a couple more kids who weren’t there the day before and we bonded over jump ropes and tossing the dog toy I brought. The dogs (chupa and siagi) have absolutely no interest in it, so the kids get it.

I’m picking up a tad more swahili and feeling a bit more settled. Today was amazing as I can see why Frank wants to have us drive so far to pick up those kids. They have so little and what we could give them would or could completely not only change their lives but that of the village. We could really have an impact on that community starting with their children.

Tomorrow I get to see teacher Neema for the first time this trip. She was the teacher I volunteered with last year. I will meet her at the graduation for a school I’m sending Irene, a girl I sponsor, to. I think I have 15 missed calls on my phone from Neema as she’s tried to reach me (since yesterday haha I guess she's excited). I’m looking forward to seeing her and then on Tuesday I will go to Khuba Nursery to see the rest of the children. I’m excited too! No real plans for this weekend so we will see what trouble I can drum up. Maybe a rope and a tire. :) Karibu tena (welcome back) to my next blog entry! Hugs

Adventures into Moshi town

honeyknuckles — Wed, 11 Sep 2013 14:48:00 GMT

Where oh where is my benadryl anti-itch spray??? The mosquitos are incredibly sneaky little buggers and thankfully they’ve only discovered my feet. But I had purchased some spray, so I was prepared! If only I could find it…

I was supposed to have lunch today with Katie but the phone number Frank gave me failed to work. Around noon I finally got a hold of him and let him know to have Katie call me instead. So...who answers the phone when they are on a motorcycle? Apparently, Frank. As if he isn’t hard enough to understand on a clear line haha...shhhhhcrrrrppppshhhhh frank shkkkkkkaaaachhh hello? He eventually called me back. By that time, I had called a taxi to make my way into town anyway, in hopes I would get a hold of her along the way. He was going to have Katie call me. That was clear. My driver arrived, named Ingerezi. I think “where are you from?” was the only English he knew. He did understand “coffee lounge” which was were I was headed so that’s good. I arrived to find Katie already there. Had I told Frank I was going there? I don’t remember. She said Frank had given her my number maybe 5 times and it still didn’t work so she took a chance. She had to meet some other people there later for work anyway to discuss one of her street kids getting funding for college. Glad it worked out so well!

One of the great things about Moshi is the coffee. I had a double Latte and ordered a salad with a strange name starting with “aux” containing lettuce, tomatoes, feta, avocado and BACON. Delish. The feta was interesting though. Pretty smushy for feta. Tasted pretty good, just smushy. Hopefully my tummy ends up being good with it. Having lettuce rinsed with tap water is always a risk. So far so good!

I got to know Katie a bit better, what she does here, how she likes it. We discussed the project, my frustrations along with my hopefulness and my trust in Frank. I learned the word “tulia”. A good one for me to hold on to. It means “chill”. :) After Katie went back to work, I thought I’d stick around a bit for the free wifi to see if it was any better than at the lodge. Uh...nope. I did see one with full bars where I could purchase 60 min for $1 but it said my country was restricted or something silly. It was allowing me to pay via paypal, but then got rejected. Bah! By this time I really had to go to the bathroom. Coffee has that effect. I packed up my laptop and headed to the restroom, or “toilet” where there was the option of a regular toilet, currently being worked on by someone, or the ceramic hole in the floor. I had little choice and rolled up my pants, preparing to maneuver the squat, but I looked a little closer and it looked pretty full. I tried the pull string flushing mechanism to no avail. Oh boy. But now I really had to go! Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matter. I headed over to the small (but biggest in town) “walmart” type store called Nummata. I shopped around hoping to find something useful for the school. I had high hopes. I ended up purchasing a funnel. Yep...a funnel. No, it wasn’t for me and my current predicament! Though the thought crossed my mind. I thought it would be useful to make water balloons. If only this store also had balloons. I’ll have to find those later.

Well, since I’m in town I might as well explore a bit. Man it was hot, and it’s not even summer. The vendors for the most part avoided me since I attempted to look like I knew where I was going. One motorcycle taxi trying to drum up customers walked along side me and said he had a compliment for me did I want to hear it. “Hapana” came out of my mouth with a slight smile (that means NO). He said “oh you know Swahili”. “Very little” I said. “I love you”, he claims. “You don’t know me” and I continued to walk. He lost interest, apparently. Was it something I said? :)

I started to see familiar territory from last time I was here. Familiar streets but no familiar faces. I turned down a street I recognized as I now started to sweat profusely (ok not really but it sounds more dramatic) and I spotted my comfort zone...the Union Cafe. Air conditioned coffee shop where all the tourists hang out. Thank you, Jesus. Complete with a working toilet. And an ice cold coke. I’m really starting to appreciate the little things in life haha…Ok, maybe a working toilet isn’t such a little thing after all. I think I’ll stick around here a bit and write as I watch the hustle and bustle of Moshi town outside. Then to figure out how to hail a taxi, or how to even know which cars are taxis and which aren’t… to be continued….

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One of the more interesting things I’ve seen today:

Women here often carry things on their heads. But I found this one gave me a chuckle. Two women walking down the street carrying a pair of men’s shoes. One shoe on each head. Seems like it would be easier to just have it in your hand, but since I’m not one to even be able to balance a shoe on my head for any length of time...who am I to say? Also, I see that the building going up across from the cafe last year really hasn’t made much progress. Maybe a bit more cement?

As for the adventure of finding a taxi, I took the easy route. I still have yet to flag down my own cab. Instead I asked the server at the cafe who ended up calling his friend. That’s kind of how it works here. I’m sure I’m not the only wide-eyed mzungu (white person) trying to figure out the whole taxi thing.

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Tonight I finally feel like I’m making some progress! I have a more clear plan that is already being set in motion. I met a woman named Jill from African Impact and she may be rounding up some volunteers to build the playground. She needed a project, I needed volunteers! Joe and Jenny from Honey Badger are connecting me with someone who has a school with a good playground that is one that can just be put together (good for the volunteers) so I will have Frank call her tomorrow so we can see it and then get the contact for the fundi (construction worker). Joe has a tire to donate for the tire swing so it’s begun! I feel much better about everything and know now how to bite it off in small chunks. Looking forward to tomorrow at the project with Frank!

Oh... I found the Benadryl. Didn’t help. I’m still fairing better than last year though.

It's perfect.

honeyknuckles — Tue, 10 Sep 2013 14:36:00 GMT

There is something quite comforting about sleeping under a mosquito net. I almost want to have one on my bed back home, even though I might see one mosquito a year. My cats would have a time of getting all tangled in it though, so probably not a good idea.

It’s early, maybe 9:30pm and I’m already in bed. It’s amazing how early you get to bed when there is nothing really you can do in a rural community. It’s dark, the crickets are singing their little hearts out. I hear the crunch of feet on pebbled walkways as the Masai warrior guarding our lodge walks by. It’s standard to hire a guard here, even for a single household. I wonder how often they actually have to “guard”. What a terribly boring job, I would think.

Today was...so many things. Eye opening, frustrating, overwhelming, exhausting, relaxing, fun and perfect. No matter what, I always feel everything is perfect and happens how it’s supposed to. But today really was a “what did I get myself into and who do I think I am to be able to pull it off” kind of day. And man, do I wish I spoke Swahili! That’s the frustrating part. I would feel so much more in control. However, I think I’m not supposed to feel in control. That’s the eye opening part. I’m really being shown that I cannot do this without God’s hand on the project. I cannot do this by sheer will. I need to ask for help- big help. God….help!

I get pretty hard on myself when it comes to how much I think I should be able to do. But there is that word “should”. What a terrible word. I did a whole speech in Toastmasters on eliminating it from our vocabulary. “Should” means you aren’t, or that there is a lack of, or imaginary pressure put on things by imaginary people. “Should” creates guilt because whatever it is, you didn’t do it. I should have learned more Swahili before I came. I should have called Frank more. I should have gotten a mentor. I should have just gone to work for someone else before creating my own school from scratch hahaha...Why can’t I just be a normal person and do normal stuff? Well...I’m not, I guess. And for some reason I took on this massive project and everything I’m feeling right now is only because it’s a year and a half of build up and now there is this pressure on performance. Things that would come easier for me in the US are now challenging, mainly because I don’t speak Swahili. Like finding a variety of carpenters to come up with a plan for the play ground and getting estimates. In the US I would just look it up on Google and Yelp. Here, not so simple.

The overwhelming and exhausting parts come in when I finally get to the project. There were only three children there today as the other three were sick. And Frank gave me sad news of a 14 year old girl who was supposed to take her graduating exam today had fallen in the river and drown. It’s a small town so news like this affects the whole community. I was then introduced to our teacher Claudia. She has a sweet smile and is really great with the children. Frank indicated for me to stay with her and I think maybe teach? Um….no. Not today. We have some business to attend to. So I went with Frank into the office and had a sit down. This is where I dug into where we really were with the project and where we need to be to move forward. I thought more had been done on research for the playground and found out we really need to start from scratch. I know at this point Frank started to feel pressure, and honestly maybe that’s a good thing. But we came up with a plan of who he was going to talk to and I would also reach out to Jenny and Jo, the owners of where I’m staying since I think they would be able to direct me to a builder. Then we discussed transportation- ugh. If we were only focusing on the local village, it wouldn’t be such a challenge. However, I learned why Frank targeted other specific villages. He feels responsible for his family- children that came from his grandfather’s side. Children that had no chance of an education without his help. I understand this, and also that it’s a big part of why he wanted to start this school. It just makes it more challenging. We discussed finding a new location but anywhere we go, some kids will just be too far to walk. We will talk of this issue more but I think I need to start asking around for a driver we can contract until we have enough money to buy our own van (dala dala). Frank even said if we got him a cheap car he would pick them up himself every day haha…. We just may end up doing that!

After the tough conversations, I pulled out some of the items that were donated or purchased for the school- the educational books and tools. I only brought a few things from my stash but I could already see Frank’s face brighten. We discussed the direction of how we wanted to educate and the tools and toys we would be using. I think Frank realized we really are on the same side with the same vision and I saw him relax a bit. Then we went outside to discuss our vision of the playground and how simple it really could be. There is a grand tree that would make a good place for a tire swing, plenty of space for a sandbox and an area to build something to climb on and slide down. Simple. :) No problem. Haha. Eesh. How good we have it in the US where we can just go to Home Depot to pick up most of it and build ourselves. Or purchase prefab swingsets we would just have to assemble. Here I don’t even know where to start. But start we will. I was given a tour of the grounds where I discovered we have many mango trees, an avocado tree, the start of a garden, a chicken and our newly built kitchen. I met the cook and the gardner/security guard. The cook is the mother of one of the little girls. I’m so happy to employ her. Our security is a gardener by trade and also a Masai warrior so it’s great he found a place to be employed as both. I found out that we provide water to anyone in the community that wants to come in to get it. What a great thing to find out! All details that get lost in the distance between here and home. I also met the school mascots, Chupa (bottle) and Siagi (cream), our pups.

I sat down with our teacher Claudia to look at some of the books I brought. She loved the books I found that can be written on and wiped clean. What a find! (Thank you, Groupon). We brought out the bubble wand that was donated and the kids went wild. I blew up the beach ball that will probably only last a day and the children’s faces lit up as they bounced it around. By the time I left, they had used up the bubbles so I put it on my check list to grab some dish soap in town and make our own. I got to sample the porridge the kids get everyday. It was a goopy, greyish purple substance in plastic cups. Mmmmmmm. Actually, it tasted better than it looked so I was pleasantly surprised. I guess it’s a slow cooked mixture of nuts, corn flour, milk, sugar...something something.

The lovely Katie stopped by to meet me face to face. She had been such a gift this last year. Katie is Frank’s girlfriend, an American who works here at a non-profit. She’s been able to give me some insight and “big picture” kind of details I wouldn’t have otherwise gotten. She let Frank and I take her car into town where I got my phone situation worked out, along with picking up some Tz shillings and getting lunch where we met his friend Eric who manages a hotel near the school. He invited us to stop by Wednesday to look at possible future accomodations after my week here at the Badger. We then proceeded to go to the central market where we purchased a couple of way overpriced plastic bins for the children’s toys- but it was slim pickings so it seemed our only option.

Overall, it was a good, albeit challenging day. As I said, it was perfect. I spent dinner with my new friends Joseph and Rachel from Holland and we ended the night gazing at a strange four winged creature flying around the light bulb. I will sleep well tonight under my mosquito net. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m sure I will feel much better about everything. Rome did not get built in a day. Neither will our playground. :)

I'm back!

honeyknuckles — Mon, 9 Sep 2013 05:06:00 GMT

Everyone outside is speaking in Swahili. Roosters and crickets are singing their songs. A cow is mooing every 30 seconds and I spot baby monkeys playing in the trees outside my window. Where am I? Oh….right.

I’m here. I finally made it. Turkish Airlines was great and the food was actually good too! Somehow I didn’t even need to get up to go to the bathroom on the first leg of the trip which was about 12-½ hours long. Sitting near the window pretty much makes me have to wait until I really need to go- especially since the guy next to me was sleeping most of the time. My flight got in really late, around 3:30am and I was quickly re-introduced to “Tanzania time” as I waited in line to get my visa. Took forever. I was feeling very anxious and nervous all of a sudden- palms sweaty, the whole bit. I’m acually here finally and I have a lot to do. Thankfully Frank had a hug and a smile waiting for me and my bags made it too, no problem. The drive was about 35 minutes and a couple of dirt roads to the Honey Badger Lodge and we had to get the security guard to wake up Douty to check me in. He was very sleepy, but very friendly. The roosters were already letting everyone know it was morning by the time I got to my room at 5am. Breakfast would be served in an hour and a half. I wasn’t tired since I slept on the plane so much, so I unpacked my clothes, washed my face and got settled in.

I dozed off apparently but awoke on my own at 8am. My room is really nice compared to where I stayed last year- and since they heat the water via solar power, I actually got to take a nice hot shower. They still have little control over the power situation here though, since that is government run and can go off at any time. But I am told if I really need something charged, I can bring it over to the bar where they use solar for the electricity.

With the sounds of farm animals and various birds,I realize how far away from town I am. I head over to where breakfast is served and meet some of the other travelers. Mmmm coffee. However, after taking my egg order and waiting for ages after getting my toast served, I had to ask if my order was actually placed. This is when the young server (Lydia) tells me I only have continental included, which is toast and fruit..haha...oh well. Good thing I brought my Isalean shakes. I sat with the women travelers I met for awhile, exchanging stories of why we are here, then headed back to my room, which is where I am at now. I definitely have the feeling of jet lag and the “I have no idea where I am or what I’m doing here” feeling so maybe a nap is in order.

It’s Sunday, the first day. Everyone pretty much takes it easy on Sunday so it’s a good time to catch up on sleep and if the sun comes out, I’ll take the opportunity to lounge by the pool. I won’t see Frank again until tomorrow when we start on the project. I’m excited and a bit nervous and feeling the pressure of making things happen, but mostly just excited.

Photos: Moshi 2013

honeyknuckles — Mon, 9 Sep 2013 04:17:00 GMT

My second trip. A new story.

A bit of fear creeps in. Can I do this?

honeyknuckles — Mon, 28 May 2012 10:31:00 GMT

Back at home having a lazy memorial day weekend, the smell of firewood from the barbecues in the air… I can't help but think of my Tanzanian friends. What they might be doing today on a Sunday. And that they will be going to school tomorrow, teaching, walking to town for supplies, a much slower life in Tz. As I await Frank's details regarding his homecare project, I sit and wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew. Or that I've over-promised, or given too much hope, if there's such a thing. Part of me is really scared and thinks I'm in over my head trying to start a nonprofit, but the other part of me knows that I am a smart girl and that I can do this. That I need to do this. Yes, another volunteer may someday feel inspired and want to help that community. Yes, maybe someone else will take the challenge. But maybe they won't. Very few have up to this point, or I wouldn't feel so compelled. A few children have been sponsored by volunteers, but that's not enough. Neema's school and Frank's homecare project need real fundraising. They need real vision and real backing financially. I know I can do this. I'm just a little scared that I won't be able to get them what they need. I have a fear of disappointing. Always have.

But then I just have to remind myself that for every one child we help, we could help hundreds. And it honestly doesn't take that much money. Just look at what Neema has done as one person. Just look at what Frank has done and wants to do as one person. They are my inspiration. They will never be able to make enough money to reach their goals and their dreams on their own as it stands right now. That's where I know I can help. Even if I can't help in a huge way, like building a new school or helping Frank keep the homecare open for years, I can at least help them start. I can at least do my best. I can dig down deep and see what's inside of me, see what kind of power I have as a woman. As an individual. As one person with a vision to help my friends in Tanzania. Help those beautiful babies get an education. Help a teacher with a heart for those children. Help a man that wants to do more but financially can't on his own.

I went to Tanzania to find a purpose. I believe I found one. I just hope I can go all the way and do what I set out to do. I pray that I attract the right people to my cause, that we build an amazing team that will do more than we ever imagined. That is my dream. Bigger. No more playing it safe, or playing it small. This is definitely the beginning of a new adventure. I'm all in.

home sweet home

honeyknuckles — Mon, 21 May 2012 03:03:00 GMT

So that's it. I'm back. My Tanzanian adventure is over. Or...has it only begun? I learned so much and as hot and dirty as it was, I was starting to get used to it at the end. I was just starting to settle into the lifestyle, the slow pace, communicating with my choppy Swahili. I think sitting at a desk tomorrow will make me feel a bit lost. It will certainly be an adjustment.

On my last day, I decided to do the waterfall hike with the rest of the crew. We were all pretty quiet on the hike and we didn't actually get to jump off the cliff like we thought, so we were a bit bummed about that. The water was just too rough. We did get to see how coffee is made- we picked the berries, removed the beans, ground it, roasted it, ground it again and drank. Yum. Then I had to go while the others set up camp to spend the night there. I wasn't looking forward to the 19 hour flight but the idea of possibly sleeping that long did appeal to me. I was hoping to get back to the house early enough to say goodbye to all the staff, but I only had enough time to pack up my things and wake Frank from his nap to give him a hug. I'm truly going to miss him. He is a product of someone taking a chance on him to sponsor him through school and I think he needs to write a book about his journey. It would be inspirational. It doesn't hurt that he's one of the most beautiful men I've ever known haha...jeez.

I got through customs with nothing more than a comment about my light packing. He said "that's all you have? most girls could never do that". yep. that's right. I told you I was a master packer! My German brother Thomas picked me up from the airport. It's really bizarre coming back to what I used to be so familiar with. It was good to see him and learn that while I was away he'd become a huge Ron Paul fan (woohoo!). Another example of seeds planted taking sprout. I think about how quickly two weeks pass with not much happening as I do my day to day work, compared to my last two weeks. It seems not much happened here while I was gone and yet my world has been altered. Pretty cool.

My kitties greeted me with purring and meowing. I'm glad they didn't forget who I was. I sure missed them. I saw a few strays in Tanzania, but no one treated them as pets. I suppose when you can barely feed yourself, it doesn't occur to you to keep a pet. After spending some time with them, I took a nice long shower. soooooo nice. Then hopped in my car to grab an In-and-Out burger and fries. soooo yum. The next few weeks I will be working on putting together a website with the kids pics and info for sponsoring. If anyone is interested in sponsoring, please let me know. There are many opportunities for not only Neema's kids, but a couple of other orphanages and schools I connected with (and Neema's younger brother's university as well as helping Neema get her own diploma!).

I just have so many mixed feelings right now but it will sort itself out. Thank you to everyone who has followed me on this journey and especially those who have contributed monetarily. You may have no idea how many lives you really changed. The money given to Neema for the kids will help her hire another teacher, which in turn allows them to take on more kids and change more lives. It's a huge trickle down effect and you are a part of it. Thank you, my friends. Thank you for your support, your love, and trusting me with your donations. I have a little bit left that I kept in the account because there are a few things I couldn't buy there that I want to send over to the kids. It's the gift that keeps on giving! I will leave the account open and maybe set up another fundraiser- I want to do some more research on the best way to go about it. Until the next adventure...

Asante sana (thank you very much)

Christine

last day with the kids :(

honeyknuckles — Sat, 19 May 2012 02:13:00 GMT

Exhausted, sick, and sad...I watched Neema lead the kids through some songs for us. I took some photos and more video. As she was leading them through a goodbye song, she stopped and burst into tears. Sobbing tears. Which of course made me cry and a few of the older children cried. Amazing what a connection you can make in two weeks. She calls me "dada" (sister) and says she will miss me so much. It was very touching.

She invited me and Sam to her place for lunch. I was delirious from no sleep (totally worth it though) and my clothes smelled of pee from holding her pee soaked daughter, but we made our way to her home. There are so many areas of Moshi (or the outskirts) that I haven't seen. I'm glad I got the opportunity to experience this as I doubt many tourists make it out there.

I don't even really have the words to describe her living conditions. She lives in a curtained off portion of a cement home. I'm not sure how many other people live in that small building. Hers was on the end, so she had a small window. The room was smaller than any studio apartment I've lived in. It was just big enough for a table, a small couch and two chairs. Behind the couch was a twin mattress and behind the curtain was a bunk bed I think was shared with the other tenants. There were stacks of things covered with fabric and I saw this is where they kept the pots and dishes. She cooked the pasta on a small kerosine cooker and her helper must have cooked the main dish outside. I noticed that most of the cooking here was done outside, even in our volunteer house. The kitchen had a stove but it looked completely unused and instead they referred to the kitchen as the brick hut outside that housed the pot and firewood. Neema's home didn't have any sort of kitchen or bathroom though. I didn't ask about the bathroom but assumed it was communal and outside. I've certainly done my fair share of squatting into a ceramic hole these past two weeks.

Neema explained in her broken English that her helper was a 17 year girl of some friend or family member that had little education and no place to go. She was a beautiful, shy and quiet girl. Neema's daughter Glory and her sister's daughter Irene also lived with her. All four of them live in that tiny room. I didn't see where any of their clothes were, but Neema always looks put together in her brightly colored dresses. It seemed the only toy was a baby doll another volunteer had given Glory and the stuffing had all come out and her arms were falling off. That didn't seem to matter to the girls as they took turns holding it on their laps.

The lunch was actually really good, albeit simple. It was spaghetti pasta with oil and salt and a rice dish with beef and potatoes. I'm glad I brought my bottle of water because I don't think there was anything to drink other than unfiltered water and you know we westerners can't drink that. She was so proud to have us in her home and she showed us the back alley where she had set up a chalk board and small space to teach some of the children and adults after school. She said teaching at night takes her mind off of things. Her life is teaching. This woman is so strong and so giving. She said she prays all the time to be able to feed the children at the school, to stay healthy, and to maybe one day get her diploma and have her own school building and home. She said she had a small home but couldn't afford the $30 per month rent. I just....I can't even begin to wrap my brain around that.

After lunch, we took a taxi into town to go to the atm. I needed to pull out the cash to give her for sponsoring the children. Collectively, we were able to pay for the education of 12 children. I was hoping we could help two or three, but we can pay for 12!!! I could only pull out 400,000 tsh at a time so it took awhile to get to the 1,425,000 tsh for all 12 kids. It looked like a massive amount of money. Using 1000s instead of dollars made me feel like I was playing with monopoly money. Thankfully, I didn't have any trouble pulling that out in one day. Back at the school it was all business, counting out the money and writing receipts, filling out the sponsorship paperwork. I decided to sponsor two children through secondary school- Irene and Glory. These are the two girls living with Neema, her daughter and niece. She didn't even offer up Glory as someone needing sponsoring at first until I asked. I knew she couldn't pay for her own daughter to attend school, so while it was ok right now being she's 3 years old, what would happen when it comes time for primary school? Glory is such a bright girl at 3 years old- she knows most of the answers and has such personality. I want to give her the best chance at a good life. After discussing this with Neema, I chose to put both of them through English medium schools. It's a private school that teaches all subjects in English and then has one Swahili class (rather than all Swahili with one English class). Both will start in July. Irene I chose, not because she lives with Neema, but because I've been watching her all week. She's quiet, smart and seems to take care of all the younger ones. She doesn't speak much English, but she understands more than I think. At times, I would say outloud to myself "where is my red pen" and I'll turn around and she will be holding it up for me. She will take half year of English medium nursery and then she will have to take a test to be able to attend the primary school. She's a bright girl. She'll pass.

I can hardly imagine what it will be like 10 years from now as they write letters to me about their progress. I met a young girl on the walk home the other day the attends the English med school and she was so polite and well spoken. I envision that for Glory and Neema and I'm so grateful I have the means to completely alter the direction of their little lives. It's almost too much to absorb. I've sponsored kids before through organizations, where I'll get a letter translated for me about their family and what they do when not in school...but it's not the same. I didn't know them. They didn't know me. I was just someone that paid $20 a month for school. Now that I know $20 going directly to these kids instead of through an organization is A LOT of money, I'm really excited. I'm just so grateful for this opportunity.

Speaking to Neema about need is like opening Pandora's box. There are so many children- a nursery or orphanage on every other corner it seems- that it's a bit overwhelming. Earlier in the week she received a phone call that her younger brother had been accepted to a local university but that he couldn't go because of money. I asked how much it costs for university and she said she would get the details from her brother. Well, her brother wanted to come meet me. I said I couldn't make any promises but I would like to see if there was anything I could do. He's waiting for us Friday as we come back from lunch. He's all dressed up to meet me and is so polite. He speaks very little English but I asked if he could write a letter for me to bring back home with me, stating why he wanted to go to school and what his dreams were. We had to go through a few revisions and it's still pretty choppy, but I'll scan it in when I'm at work. He wants to be a veterinarian- a doctor to the cows and goats. University is only for two years and with boarding and everything, it looks like it will be 1,000,000 tsh per year. With the exchange rate, that's about $625 USD. That's pocket change to many people I know so I'll do my best to get the word out. It's a time crunch though as school needs to be paid before he would start on June 25th. I better get crackin.

Friday night we went out again to celebrate (or at least honor) my last evening in Tanzania. It was a mellow night of some drinks and dancing at an outside bar called Glacier. It's so crazy to me that everyone can dress up and look 1st world when they then go home to 3rd world accommodations. I certainly have mixed feelings about coming home. I'm tired, I have a pretty bad cold, and I need a good shower...but the connections I've made here make me contemplate a return in the future. We will see.

fun in the sun!

honeyknuckles — Fri, 18 May 2012 01:44:00 GMT

Thursday was a good day! I would say, just about perfect. I taught class in the morning, getting my dose of kiddie hugs and fighting over hand holding...and then we took a well deserved break and snuck off to the hot springs. We were going out to some remote Chugga village were there was some kind of paradise awaiting us. We got into our suits and packed 9 of us into the van. I had no idea we would be 4 wheelin to get out there. We turned off the main road onto a dirt road where we bumped and rocked and slid through some mud...laughed and held our breath as our expert driver Paul got us through some sticky parts on the road. We passed cow herders, small children chasing our van to follow the blaring hip hop, old men shaking fingers at us to slow down (or turn down the music haha), women walking with bundles of firewood on their heads and talking on cell phones (my brain can't wrap around that one), mud huts and small churches. About 45 minutes of slow going over rocks and mud, we came upon a what looked like a few trees. Driving into the trees, it was magical. Who would have thought something like this little paradise would be out here in the middle of nothing? The water was crystal clear and warm (not as hot as I thought the "hot springs" should be though). We all stripped down and a couple of us got in then started screaming like little girls! there are little fish that start to "clean" you- you know, the ones you see cleaning the sides of aquariums? Well, I was warned it would happen but had no idea how much it was going to tickle. Once you push away from the edge, though, it's smooth sailing. For all the rain and mud and dirt and no good showers...this made up for it. We climbed the trees, jumped off branches, swung from the swing. I followed a stream to a clearing at the other end where I could feel the sun on my face. Had I not trusted our guide, I would swear there would be crocs or snakes in here. I felt like I was in the Congo. But I trusted I would be fine and floated in silence on my back. My face being the only part of me out of the water, soaking up the sun, staring at the clouds. It was quite the magical moment. As I came up, I heard some giggling and on the side of the pond were a couple of village women pointing at me. I laughed and waved and they made the gesture of me floating on my back and giggled. They said "mambo!" I yelled "poa!", smiled and swam back to the group to drag them all out to my new found bliss to experience for themselves.

As it started to get dark, we knew we were out of time. We packed up our stuff, paid the 5000 tsh each to the village chief for using the springs, then made our way back home. A few of us wanted to go out, so we ate dinner and cleaned up a bit. It seemed like a good idea as we were singing and laughing in the van, but now that we were full and sitting, we started to fade. However, it was my last couple of nights, so we said we'd just go out for a bit. A bit turned into hours. I almost beat Frank at pool (but didn't). One of the guys almost got into a fight with the motorcycle taxis (but didn't- thanks to Frank). And I almost got a good night's sleep (but clearly didn't). An hour and a half after hitting the pillow, I was up and on my way to my last day of volunteering.

working the numbers

honeyknuckles — Thu, 17 May 2012 01:09:00 GMT

I got to teach my own class today, alone. Neema had the younger kids in one room and I had the 6 year olds in the other. We first did drawing with the new books. This is the first time I've seen them draw- up to this point it's been math and spelling. I would draw something on the board, using the colored chalk I brought with me from the US (this was a good purchase) and tell them to draw it on their pages. They all drew tiny tiny versions hahaa...I had to keep telling them "kubwa! big!" It's like they've all been taught to conserve paper and they didn't want to take up space. It was exciting to see when someone got it and drew a big flower on the entire page. I think only one or two ventured out to do that. Then there was Aroni. He only used the gray crayon. I would keep trying to get him to use pinks and purples and he would color over it with gray. Interesting. I wonder what that is all about.

Then we started math. They are pretty good at basic addition but I also notice many of them write the number 10 backwards as 01. And they all love coming to the board but struggle a bit to actually do the addition once up there. I suppose that's pretty typical of any 6 year old. Lucky for me, they were all quietly writing in their books, copying the work from the board when we had visitors. Some people from Art in Tanzania stopped in to check out the volunteering and I'm so glad they didn't stop in when the class was chaos (like when I'm handing out stickers! it's a feeding frenzy). A guy from the UK asked if they spoke English and I said "some" so he asked one of the girls what her name is. She was looking at the board and didn't answer him so I repeated the question more sternly and she answered. Then he asked how old she was and she did the same thing, so I said "Jackline! How old are you?" and after she answered, one of the leaders was so thrilled that I knew her name and that I had control of the class- he shook my hand and congratulated me. I felt like such a rockstar haha... yes, they listen to me pretty well, but there are times when it's completely out of control. I'm glad their visit was such good timing.

After class, I spent some time working the numbers with Neema. As my visit was coming to a close, I needed to decide where the money was going to go. I had her list the children that were not able to pay for school and needed sponsors. 28 children. 28. That's most of the class! Neema lets them come anyway and uses her own pay to get supplies and porridge for the kids. I honestly don't know how she does it. No wonder they didn't even have a duster for the chalkboard. My heart felt heavy as I knew I couldn't pay for them all, but I also knew I could take photos, get the info and bring it back with me to see if anyone in the US wanted to sponsor. I think it makes a big difference that I am actually here and I get to know the kids so I can tell others their stories. I want to put up a website and see if we can get some continued sponsorship.Yes, I can help with some immediate funds, but what about next year and the year after? Each child is either 75,000 tsh or 150,000 tsh a year depending on if it's school or day care too (some kids stay all day as they have nowhere else to go). That comes out to be about $50 or $100 per year. It's nothing! I'll spend that on a night out! But I can't sponsor all 28. And primary and secondary school cost more, so I need to think about what I can do for future.

Ok, so I have some things to think about. How many can I help with the donation money now and who do I want to personally sponsor for their full education? And do I put them through regular school or English medium? Ultimately English medium gives them their best chance at a good future, but can I afford it on an ongoing basis? Lots of pondering and praying will be going on tonight.

Only two days left. I'm starting to feel sad about leaving.