International H-O-R-S-E

The conversation went something like this....

Me:  I could totally beat you in HORSE.  I did back in the states, I could do it halfway across the world.
Brett:  (Laughs) You didn't and couldn't beat me. 
Me:  Prove it.

ROUND 1:  Columbia, MO vs. Morogoro, TZ

Brett:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPMRWbHiKX8&feature=related
Ellen:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRGPEF6v8UQ&feature=context&context=C447dbafADvjVQa1PpcFOFM3GVNniN-_OX69NtYBarO3sGDUApyp8=

Winner:  Me  (according to a unbiased class of approximately 20 Mizzou students)

ROUND 2:  Columbia, MO vs. Dodoma, TZ

Brett:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2xlNx6LSEI&feature=relmfu
Ellen:  (My video to come, and your votes are welcomed)


Alas, it seems my competitive nature still exists despite so many other changes in the last 6 months.

A Chucknoraellenpatrion Production

My Dodoma mates and I made this for our IST (in-service training).
You may not get it but I, along with the PCVs in our class, think it's funny.
Apparently there are some really popular 'things people say' videos going on in America. 
Which we like to copy.... way after the fact.
These are some of the clips that made the cut from our long list.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP_O_Oyffug&feature=youtu.be

When the Thong Song is Comforting....

There are the lists and stories of ‘look at the cool things I’m doing in the Peace Corps.’  The events and commonalities that anyone in the US can automatically say, ‘well my girlfriend in the Peace Corps ate stuffed chicken head last night while we skyped.’

I know I tend to always look at things in the most positive, optimistic, buoyant and humorous light.  But with this experience, and this blog, I think it’s really important to be candid and bluntly honest.  Not only for the sake of self-reflection, but for future volunteers scrounging through the blogosphere, and my friends and family trying to make sense of it all.

This is hard.  Really hard.

Stressful, draining, exhilarating, dramatic, and demanding.

Some days are mundanely average and filled with me catching up on episodes of Modern Family and ignoring my Kiswahili study list.  You feel incredibly isolated and bored.  Other days are completely packed with long list adventures: (Monday: writing an analysis report, teaching English, getting ‘Happy Birthday Mzungu’** sang to me by the mental inpatient ward, making banana bread with the neighbor girl, playing Uno with the kiddos, and getting measured for 2 new dresses). 

**It wasn’t my birthday.

As much as you explain your life to friends and family back home they will never, ever truly understand your experience.  Ever.

Some days I really despise America-why do people care that Snooki is pregnant?  How are Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum potential presidential candidates?  What the heck is Lin-sanity?  (Really curious on that last point)

Some days I miss America.  I can feel the cold bite of October in Kansas, smell the grass at College Football games, and hear the roar of the crowd when the team first hits the field.

I have craved food to the point of salivating at the mouth-literally.  In my mefloquin induced dreams I’m at a party with limitless cheese, wine and a monstrous mound of ice cream.  Hot showers…don’t tease.  

We simply tell ourselves ‘nothing wakes you up like that cold bucket bath’ to get through it.

Or, we just decide not to bathe.  Because we are dirty people.  Really, really dirty.  And we like to talk about how much we smell.  And our poop.  And sex.  For some reason it is the international points all PCVs fall back on.

Everything is slow here.  People marvel I can write a letter in 20 minutes when they expect it to take the entire day.  First world workdays seem impossible, and they are when no one else works like you.  Everything takes time.  Projects.  Change.  Adjustment. 

Patience, as a result, has grown exponentially.  Don’t tell me you can’t fit 28 people in a 10 passenger dala dala, because I’ve seen 34 fit and stood up in it (at 6’0”) on one foot when it broke down, restarted, and eventually met it’s demise leaving me on a 60 minute hike home in the desert.

You learn more about yourself then you could ever expect.  And fast.  You grow to embrace the good and truly hate the bad.  You question the bad, intensely.

You drink when with other PCVs; like college 2.0.

You are watched 24 hours a day/365 days a year.  When you’re a volunteer you’re always on the job-even the average, boring days.  If you’re not doing anything you feel guilty for it, and anyone can ‘piga hodi’ and ask for help, especially nap time.

There is unbelievable freedom amidst absolute restraint.

‘What’s that, it’s March?!  I’ve been at site for how long?!’  Weeks zoom.

‘This day is never going to end.  How is it only 10 am, what am I going to do the rest of the day.’  Days drag.

Daydreams are filled with realizations of how easy life in the states will be when you can communicate in the same language-all the time.  And I can't tell you how many times I've already imagined exactly what KCI will look like when I step off that plane back in America.

Sometimes you can’t change everything you see-and that sucks.  Seeing kids get hit with rods at school, or hearing it next door.  That is the worst.  Realizing that you can’t.

I’ve felt completely uninspired and been overwhelmed with ideas desperately searching for the starting line.

Relaxing, secure, nostalgic moments come in the strangest forms, i.e. listening to American music, even if it is ‘The Thong Song.’….well, maybe not that song.

You are constantly followed.  A shadow that won't go away, and eyes that are ALWAYS watching (yes they just saw you trip, yes they just saw you pick your wedgie, yes I just used 'wedgie' in a blog). Everyone is simply ‘shangaa’ to hear you speak the language.  Even though I want to play soccer with a ball of plastic bags and all the neighbor kids, sometimes I just want to go for a walk and not have to  say ‘no my name is not mzungu, no I’m not a bank, I am fine, I Am Fine, I AM FINE! STOP ASKING!’

Every experience is different.  My site mate is in a village with no electricity, running water, and has snakes slithering through all corners (insert Harry Potter reference here).  Another volunteer is in a village that only has goats, milk, and onions (insert Shrek quote here).  I work at a hospital and my neighbors are the principals at the schools.  Everyone has good days and bad days.  Everyone gets homesick, and everyone has ‘thank God I’m in Tanzania’ moments.

Don’t get me wrong-I love this experience, and that is not me sugar coating it.

But it’s hard.

Yes Peace Corps, you’re right.  It is the hardest job I’ll ever love.  Darn you and your slogan that is glaringly true. 

29 Days of February

What's the word, bird.

I'm officially settled into site and preparing for our upcoming IST (In-service training...aka 2 weeks of ridiculous reunion shenanigans in Morogoro that appropriately occur during two PCV birthdays, St. Patty's Day, and March Madness).  I've been spending the last few weeks helping to teach nutrition to PLWHIVA at the CTC, and I taught a few classes for the HIV/AIDS course at the nursing school.  Now I'm looking into ways to help the mental health inpatient facility at the hospital, finding primary/secondary schools to do small projects with, searching for partnerships with an orphanage, in the beginning stages of planning a boys and girls conference, and trying to figure out a steady Kiswahili study schedule.  All of my work has been self-directed as I've had limited assignments with my NGO, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that more work comes my way or I'm allowed to branch out with other projects in the city/region.

Olly is huge and has completely left his Tanzanian stray ways in the Dodoma dust becoming a full fledge American cat.

I have yet to have many days alone in my new home as I have several visitors in the form of PCVs coming through Dodoma for travel or to do banking.  Fortunately, our PCV family in Dodoma region gets along remarkably well.

I've become a spicy lentil, mango bread, peanut butter pancake, guacamole making machine.

I got my hair cut by PCV Nora, then proceeded to cut some more myself a week later...it's slowly getting shorter and shorter.

I have 4 dresses at the fundi getting made for me...I may be becoming obsessed with Tanzanian fashion.

I'm constantly described as 'charming,' both in good and bad situations.  It's my new favorite word.

I have a Tanzanian bff/twin (pacha) named Nonga, who is tall and charming as well.  She and I dance and sing 90s rap songs every day, and she loves skyping Brett because 'his voice is so romantic.'

I traveled to Dar to see a doctor after I fell and couldn't move my arm back in January.  After getting bed bugs at the hostel and seeing the Indian Ocean, I discovered I sprained 4 tendons and I'm officially allowed back to the basketball court this week.

I have successfully taught the neighbor kids a step...video to come.

The class I'm teaching had an average test score of 40% (the norm here), and after a few sessions and exam the average doubled to 80%!

Birthday celebrations in the Peace Corps are INSANE as Club 84, Dodoma poolside, piggy back race, Kinyogi Tangawezi, singing at chipsi stands, and American dance parties have proved.  I'm so excited that my birthday falls one week before the sikukuu nane nane (8/8).

I may or may not have sent a text to every Peace Corps Volunteer in our class (41) and more, wishing them a Happy Leap Day and giving them a Leap Day Challenge specific to the individual.  (i.e. Teach your villagers the macarena, play red rover, or carry some Kimasai bros piggy back)

I promise my posts will get better-and pictures/videos will be uploaded.

I've officially become Tanzanian with my 'pole pole' pumzika attitude towards the above statement.

The Magic That is Tanzania

So I’ve been in Tanzania for over 140 days.

In my head this tally is best described as a daily creep and weekly fly by.

Now that I’ve been at site for longer than training home stay the reality of being here for 2 years really jumps out at you.

Before I came to Tanzania I got a really solid piece of advice…’don’t have any expectations.’  Of course that’s difficult to do, as most volunteers will tell you they spend a significant amount of time reading blogs, researching their country, making lists, and imagining exactly what their service will look like leading up to boarding that plane.  I tried my best to come to Tanzania with a ‘hamna shida’ or ‘no problem’ attitude.  So far, it’s been my magic ticket, my top secret ingredient to a successful training and ending every journal entry with ‘I love this country.’

Then you get to site, alone.

Then you stare at a wall.

Then you get really frustrated that some rando laughed at you for the 534958 time because you said something wrong in Kiswahili.

Then you crave butterfingers.

Then you remember why everyone said this isn’t the easiest thing in the world.

Then you start cursing because you can’t fully express yourself in Kiswahili like you can in English.

Yes, the above has happened to me, especially the butterfingers one. 

A few days ago I had a particularly frustrating day that had been building up for a week.  The NGO I’m working with has given me little to no work in the last month, and I’ve been stuck trying to determine a balance between self-directed work, personal project goals, and my assignment.  I didn’t understand why I had this NGO position and felt my soul being sucked away by the secretarial assignments.  It got to a point where I had to leave the hospital and go for a walk.  (Cue magical music)

There was no major event, no words, and no sign that put my mind back to ‘hamnashidaIloveTanzania’ land.  I can’t even tell you exactly what I did other than walk around downtown surrounded by hundreds of locals and mangos before heading home.  But when I got home I was right back where I’ve always been-thoroughly enjoying this experience.

That is what is so great about Tanzania.  Right when I get even the slightest bit close to a ‘bad day’ or even a ‘bad moment,’ in some wonderfully unknown way, the people, the environment, the culture, show me exactly what is so incredible about this place.  I fall in love all over. 

Maybe not having expectations or a carefree attitude has gotten me this far with only good days.  But it will be this country, the people, and my every day experiences that will carry me through my next 2 years of great days

This One Time, In Tanzania...

A few years from now, when I’m back home with friends and family, and someone brings up goats, xray machines, lizards, mangos, deathbeds, basketball, Nelly, doctors, buses, drunk nuns, the devil, or the dougie… I won’t have to say ‘this one time in Tanzania.’  I can simple refer back to this post about my first month at site.

-I ate fried goat gizzards with pilau and goat grease drizzled on top.  All while squatting next to a thorn tree, in the bush, with a bunch of Kimasai men.  I was admiring their single red cloths, canes and gaged ears, and they were deep in discussion about who would marry that tall, white mzungu.  That one time, on a hot January day, in Tanzania.

-I cut 40 Tanzanians in line to get an x-ray.  This was after the regional hospital had no electricity to take the picture and before I traveled via land cruiser on a dirt road, mid-rainy season, bumping my arm the whole way.  The result was a grainy, two-picture masterpiece, given to me via poop hand, sans envelope.  That one time, I took an x-ray with all metal jewelry still intact, while squatting on the floor of a very well lit room, in Tanzania.

- Olly ate a lizard that was bigger than him.  Whole.  It was turquoise and orange.  This one time, my cat wanted attention, in Tanzania.

-I successfully baked mango (in season) and ginger bread using a two sufaria and stones homemade oven.  Bake time=3 episodes of Modern Family.  Eat time=1/2 of an episode of Modern Family (it was delicious).  This one time, I was feeling domestic, in Tanzania.

-I played a full court basketball game with a bunch of dudes at the University nearby, to a crowd of 30+ more dudes.  The court happens to be outside the men’s dormitory….  White person+ woman+ high scorer=what the HECK?!  The court also had ‘Barack Obama was here’ spray painted on it.  This one time, I screamed ‘in your eye’ in Kiswahili, in Tanzania.

-Every day I sit, chatting with Mama Amina (aka my Dodoma Mama), looking white and American, while the doctors at the hospital argue over who’s going to buy me a soda and chapati today.  This one time, I told a bunch of doctors over and over that I was taken, in Tanzania.

-When two buses become one because it’s the rainy season and one bus can’t make it in the mud, you’ve got yourself a dala dala for a 7 hour bus ride.  Squished between two mamas, and two babies just young enough not to have their own seat, but just old enough to touch you with their snotty hands and change their poopy kanga diapers on you 5 times.  I’m pretty sure I was squeezed in so tight I could count the change in one mama’s pocket (700 Tsh).  This one time, I made two babies cry because they were petrified sitting next to a white person, in Tanzania.

-Mama Amina was playing some American music and I asked her if she knew how to dougie?  Obviously she didn’t, so I proceeded to teach her how to dougie, in the jikoni, to the delight of the men on staff at the hospital who were watching us and laughing in a distance.  This one time, I got jiggy with it, in Tanzania.

Mama Amina

-This Mama told me, ‘njoo!’  So I followed her off the bus.  She put me in a car, drove me to a duka (where she had me leave my stuff), took me to a sunflower oil shop where we snacked on seeds, showed me off to the people in town as her ‘new best friend,’ stopped by her family’s home, made me ugali and goat while her brother told me I should start a fruit juice business in Tanga, had me greet dying Bibi in the next room, took me to a hostel for free soda, bought me embe at the sokoni, took me to the local bar and bought me beers, returned to the duka to get my things that were magically safe, and made sure I got to my hostel and settled in for the night.  In that order.  This one time, I followed a Mama because she told me to, in Tanzania.

-I received a welcome party from a village that included a feast of rabbit, goat, chicken, and pilau.  Along with entertainment of a comedy-central style roast of the new nun in town (to which she awkwardly sat through, quietly, nearly in tears), two priests joking about climbing and drinking Kilimanjaro, a Kimasai sitting in the corner downing Kanyogi packets, and a drunken dance off between the nuns (post-numerous party fouls).  This one time, New Years Day, in Tanzania.

Loolera

-Meck: “Auntie, unajua shetani?”  Me: “Do I know the devil?  No, why do you ask?”  Meck: “No reason!”  This one time, my neighbor boy asked me if I knew the devil, in Tanzania

-A teacher at the nursing school invited me to her house on my way home to hang out.  She promptly pulled out her American music videos which she felt was super hip and American of her to do.  This one time, I watched Nelly and Puff Daddy (because they were so old he was still called that) music videos for an hour, in Tanzania.

Christmas in Ho-Ho-Ma

Merry Christmas from Ho-Ho-Ma!

Even though I was far away from traditions, family, friends and the cold, I couldn’t have had a better Christmas in the Ho-Ho-Ma desert.  Here is a glimpse of the top ten moments from my holiday weekend.

10.  Laughing Circles:  We played the laughing circle game which soon turned into us singing the Tanzanian National Anthem and changing the words to ‘Ho-Ho-Ma.’ 

9.  Mail Time:  Eric got a package from his mom filled with decorations, stockings, holiday Oreos, the Washington Post, Parade ‘end of the year’ special, candy canes, a mailbox of letters, and elf on a shelf.  We hung all the décor and pounded the Oreos while listening to Frank Sinatra’s Christmas Music. 

8.  Kitten in a Stocking:  It was Oliver/Olly’s first Christmas.  He is the cutest stray kitten in all of Tanzania.  He is no older than a month and some change, (I decided his birthday is November 10^th), and perfectly playful and snuggly.  I like that he eats the mosquitos and beetles that like to nest in my room, and he likes to sit on my shoulders, lick my ears and eat dagaa.  I’m making a conscious effort to only speak to him in Kiswahili, so right now he knows how to ‘njoo!’ very well.

7.  Snow:  It definitely didn’t snow.  I actually got sunburned walking around downtown shopping on Christmas Eve.  BUT, the wonderful package of ‘snow’ that Gwen sent was the perfect addition to our Christmas Card Picture.

6.  Chakula Marekani:  Kim made everyone French toast with nutella and ndizi.  ‘Nough said.

5.  Ray Charles Stopped By:  Patrion would put Jamie Foxx out of a job because his Ray Charles impression is so good.  I’m pretty sure the Mama serving us sodas downtown didn’t know what to do when Kat, Chuck and I started crying with laughter the moment he put on my sunglasses.

4.  Slumber Parties:  Thursday there were 3, Friday there were 6, Saturday/Sunday there were 8.  And all this time only 1 bed, 1 mosquito net, and 1 very active kitten.  Needless to say it was a tight squeeze in 2011, staring Dodoma PCVs.  Luckily, we’ve all grown accustomed to smelling bad 24/7. 

3.  Caroling:  Who are those wazungu singing Christmas Carols, walking down the dirt road?  Why yes, it’s our new neighbor Asha and her American friends. 

2.  Letters from Buddy the Elf:  Eating a fancy dinner at the Chinese restaurant in town was not enough Holiday Cheer for Buddy the Elf and Santa.  So Christmas Eve night they stayed up in Santa’s workshop writing letters to each PCV, decorating the ‘surprise’ tree, and putting together a Christmas puzzle.  They tip-toed out over sleeping bags and snoring kitten, placed elf on the shelf on  top the tree, letters beneath, and left just after eating the cookies and feeding a carrot to the reindeer.

1.  Christmas Morning:  Christmas morning we all drank coffee, read the paper, and gathered around the tree opening our Secret Santa gifts and reading the letters left by Santa.  It was such a great morning as we were consumed with laughter, smiles, and really enjoying the company.  I couldn’t have been luckier to have shared the holiday with my new friends.  It is incredible how close we have all gotten after only knowing each other for 10 weeks.  My family here, both Tanzanian and American were a wonderful present this Christmas, and I’m already looking forward to continuing our new traditions next year.  I hope you and your family have a wonderful holiday season.

Krismasi njema!

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (au panya).

The stockings were hung on concrete walls with care,

In hopes TZ Santa soon would be there.

 The PCVs were nestled all snug in sleeping bags

While visions of warm showers and chapati were had

And Olly in his bow, and Eric in Obama cap,

Had settled under mosquito net for a rainy season nap. 

When out of the choo there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my seat cushion to see what was the matter.

Away to the barred windows I flew in a flash

Tore open the kanga and threw up the sash.

The moon and the stars on ho-ho-ma desert ‘snow’

Gave a glisten to dust roads and mud huts below.

When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,

But Buddy the Elf, giggling with no fear.

With some letters in hand, and a Charlie Brown tree,

I knew in a moment this is Santa, it must be.

They quickly tiptoed towards the ujirani they came,

And sang Ho-Ho-Ma Anthem and called laughing circle by name!

Now Patrion!  Now Chuck! Now Eric and Maria!

On, Kat! On, Jodi! On Kim mnaangalia!

To the top of the water filter! Top bottles of Kanyogi!

Now Kiswahili! Sasa!  Shikamoo Ray Charlie!

As Chinese food has been eaten and dance party stepped

We came together this night, a family who just met.

As I thought about new traditions St Nick and Elf creeped,

But not without stopping to grab a biscuit to eat.

And then, in an instant, I heard a small rustle

Not beetles nor lizards nor roosters were a shuffle.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

In came our Christmas surprise, we’d been found.

He was dressed all in dirt, from his head to his foot.

And his clothes were all tarnished, with Muheza soot.

A bundle of treats he had flung on his back,

And he looked very sneaky, pulling a puzzle from his pack.

His eyes umeme adjusted!  His dimples how merry!

His cheeks sunburned, his nose just like Jerry’s!

His funny little mouth, finger pressed upon so,

And the tops of his feet bared a chacko tan glow.

The stump of a candy cane held tight in his teeth,

And the jingle of ornaments rang to a beat,

He had cut out snow figures, and placed upon tree,

And right on the top well who could that be?

He was small, and cute, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw it was elf on a shelf!

A wink Santa gave and Buddy grabbed more biscuits,

I knew that this was like no other Christmas.

They spoke not a word as others slept fo fo fo,

And they filled all the stockings simply humming ho ho ho.

And when finished, they seemed to have had loads of fun

They skipped down the hall, their job was well done.

I knew the next morning would be a sikukuu to remember,

In a home filled with love and friends we’ll have forever,

When I heard in a distance just barely out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”