Live The Life You Love

Kidnapping # 2 and 3

2010-08-20T08:22:00.000-07:00

Does anyone really know where Timbuktu is? I would say most people don’t, but almost everyone knows that it is ffaaaaarrrrr. Well, Timbuktu is a city in Mali, here in Africa, not so far. So, instead of using Timbuktu to describe someplace that is very far, Tanzanians use a place called “Buza.” “Where is Buza?” you ask, I will tell you.

We were invited to our family’s house for the celebration house of our young brothers’ and sister’s first communion (Witness, James and John Mtenga). The first communion mass was amazing, first of all we were the only choir singing and so got to sit right up in front where we usually do, and watch all of the kids receive their First Communion. After the 4 hour mass, we led a procession outside, the entire packed and overflowing church following behind the First Communicans who were behind us. We sang and danced in the noontime sun to this house at the end of the street and waited there for the priest to arrive at the end of the entire procession. There we had Eucharistic Adoration for a few minutes and then did the same thing all the way back to the Parish Offices, waited a few minutes and then slowly went back into the Church. Once everyone was there, all of the children were given their own bible and rosary. By this time it was around 1:30 pm.

I ran home after our short meeting after mass and met the others ready to go to our first destination. We booked it to the Mtenga’s house and met them there with their house decorated with posters of Jesus and some small paper cut outs on the walls, Witness, James and John looked proud and were glowing when we congratulated them and shook their hands. We met some extended members of the family and were welcomed into the home just as we always are, as their own son and daughters. We get scolded by them as if we are their children and we are expected to participate in family functions as if we were their children.

As we were making small talk during the delicious lunch of pilau (spiced rice), I got into talking with the two uncles that were there about where they live. One said he lives in Mburahati, the town next to us, the other said he lives in Buza, its really far away, past the airport. The airport is used as a marking point, anything past the airport if worth a two day visit. I told him that I had never been there and he said we should come. Jokingly I said something like “of sure! We will come one day!.” And thus follows kidnapping number 3.

A few weeks ago, our friend Godi came over and told us that his uncle wanted us to come visit. We thought it was his uncle from Mburahati and so planned a day and knew it was going to be a somewhat long affair but would probably have some free time that day. We called Godi on the day of our visit and said that we would meet him at a place that was near Mburahati but he said that we were not going to Mburahati so we should go to his house first. Have you ever had that feeling that something is going to happen but you are afraid of saying it for fear that if you say it it will actually come true and if you don’t it won’t happen? This is what happened to me. In the back of my mind I was thinking that we weren’t going to Mburahati, that is too easy. I bet we are going to Buza. But I didn’t dare say anything because then it would actually come true. What foolishness, things like that come true even if you don’t say it out loud.

We met Godi and some of his siblings at his house, greeted his parents and then left for our long journey to Buza. We took the first dala dala (bus) to the end of the line, pushed and shoved our way through the crowd to find the next dala-dala which we also took to the end of the line. Then we walked. We walked until we were met by warm greetings from Godi’s uncle and aunt, saying that they were expecting us at 11 and it was now 1. We were quickly ushered inside and given much needed water to drink. We watched music videos from a choir for about 2 hours and then more music videos from other African Christian artists until we left.

We walked back up to the road and squeezed into a tiny dala dala that took us to the end of the line again and then another dala dala back to our home. On the way home we were informed that it was one of our friends birthdays and he was waiting for us at his home. We ran home, dropped our things off and ran to his house where he had an entire meal of more pilau waiting for us, just us. We sat with him, ate some more, drank some sodas and then also were fed the traditional birthday cake.

As usual, I had an amazing time that day. The day was long and full of surprises, but there were so many times during that day when I was awe-struck at the hospitality of strangers, at the beauty of friendship and family and at the sense of community that we have formed here. I oftentimes look around wherever I am and try to soak it all in. It is during these experiences, though tired, I constantly think of how blessed I am to be humbled by the people I know here. I don’t have words to express the joy I feel just sitting, talking and being with people. One major lesson that I have learned since being here is patience and flexibility. There was a point in my life where I would get upset if things didn’t go exactly as I had planned, I have come to learn that some of the next experiences in life come when plans go awry and when you just let loose and let yourself be, let yourself experience the pain of a situation by letting yourself be vulnerable, the joy of friendship when you spend hours and hours on end together, the beauty of the world when you pause in the midst of craziness.

I guess the name that I chose for my blog, “Live the Life You Love” still stands true for my experience here.

Kidnapping # 1

2010-08-20T08:20:00.000-07:00

We use the term “kidnapping” quite often here. For those of you who have been blessed to experience the over-generous, extremely humbling hospitality of people from other cultures, you may have an idea of what I’m talking about.

As a community, we have been kidnapped many times. Often this occurs when we have been invited over a friends house at a certain time and expect to be back 4 hours later but the plans have changed without us knowing and we are brought around to 3 other families houses through their banana farms and fed many more times than we were prepared for (Christmas 2008), other times it is a simple pro-longed visit with extended family members who have traveled a long way and so as watoto wazuri “good children” it is our responsibility to stay. Let me add that none of these kidnappings have been extremely unpleasant or without people we love and care about.

Our choir had been preparing to go to another parish to sing for a long time, I’d say at least two months. At practice the word “Buguruni” would be thrown out about every third song we sang. I got the idea that this was going to be a big deal. As the date got closer, we had practice every day. We practiced the most impossible songs we could find to sing and then decided to put next to impossible dance moves with them. It was all going well. After one last minute switch of the date, the actual day was getting very close. We whipped out our purple couch cushion uniforms from last year (this brutally heavy purple fake satin with a white flower pinned to the front of the dress – they were going to choose pink last year but everyone got such a kick out of saying that Caroline and I were the same color and so it wasn’t going to look good.)

The day of the show/kidnapping: We were asked to meet at the church at 6:30 in the morning, still having my good old American punctuality I arrived 5 minutes before and was the only one there. I actually left a friend behind because I was going to be late. Slowly people arrived and at about 6:45 the bus arrived and we left. We sang out hearts out the entire 7 minutes it took to get to the other church and of course I, who was sitting near the window, was pointed out multiple times because first, I’m white, second, I’m wearing a ridiculous dress, and third, we are singing so loudly people hear us over their own music.

We arrive at the church and I seriously wish I had a camera. The other choir from the church we were going to was waiting on the street singing a welcome song. Did they look smart. They were all wearing long sleeve black button up dress shirts, black trousers or long skirt, black shoes, a white and black diamond checkered sweater vest and a black fedora with black, white and red string tied around it. Their uniforms were accented by a red tie. Seriously. I felt like I was in a speak-easy in the 1930s. It took us about 30 minutes to walk to where we were supposed to be, to line up and to enter the church. I’m always fascinated at the reactions I get when I go places, whether it is people trying to speak English to me or if it is just a blank, curious stare, I can always tell whether there are other white people living nearby or not, most likely they don’t.

We sang so well during the Mass and were tired after the first mass. I thought we were done. Nope, we had to stay and sing the second mass. We sang well but not as well as the first one because we were tired. Second mass done, let’s go. Not so fast. The choir has invited our choir for tea. I was appreciative of this because I was parched and hungry and cold. The hot tea and mandazi (doughtnuts) warmed and filled me up. Ok, time to go now. For some reason we waited and waited and waited. During this period of waiting, all of the seats and benches in the newly built church were put away, I became the topic of conversation between both choirs about how I am going to get married here (I was promised to a choir member’s brother) and then somehow got to talking on segregation in America, we were fed oranges an I was tested in my Swahili by a man walking by by him greeting me in every single way he could and seeing how I responded (I passed). Finally the bus arrived, but by now I had found out that we weren’t going back to our parish. I should note that it was now 2 pm.

We took two buses (the other choir joined us) and we went to the Msimbazi Center, a large area with multiple large halls for events. We were dropped off at this already set up hall and were asked to sit in a certain area, we were going to wait for the other guests to arrive. I made my friend Thadei sit next to me because he is one of the only members who speaks English and I knew this was going to be a long evening. We were asked to intermingle with the other choir members so we looked like a beautiful array of purple, black and white. Slowly other people started to come and then each choir sang a few songs while we waited for the guest of honor to come. Around 4:30 pm the guest of honor shows up, the Head of the Buguruni Parish. Turns out that this is a fundraiser for the choir that invited us to sing at their church. The other guests that came were the teachers and heads of other choirs in Dar. By the time I realized all of this, all I had eaten and drunk the entire day was that tea and mandazi and half an orange. This is one of the troubles of being kidnapped. After we sang a few more songs and an auction started to see who would pay the most money to open the champagne, we were told to get on line for food. The rest of the evening went well, I was only called out two more times for being white, and I thoroughly enjoyed being with the choir for the entire day. Whenever a new group would say how much they were donating, everyone got up and danced to the music that was being played.

Around 7 pm we prepared to leave. Many women in the choir had to leave early because their husbands expected them home at a certain time and they had to cook dinner for their families. We left the Msimbazi Center around 7:30 pm and got back home in Mabibo around 8:00 pm. I had planned on preparing my lessons for Monday on Sunday afternoon, instead I went to sleep at 8:30 and had a “movie day” in class on Monday (not really a movie day, that’s hard to do without electricity, a tv and movies, but we reviewed what we had learned the previous week).

This was by far the worst, and best kidnapping I have experienced.

Tangu Zamani! Since a long time ago!

2010-08-16T06:19:00.001-07:00

I apologize sana (very much) for my negligence in posting blogs. To make up for the lack of stories and snapshots of my life, I am currently writing up the stories and experiences that I have had in the past half year that I believe will interest you all. Note: these are in no particular order.

I hope you all will still read them!

Emily

Siku ya Tamasha

2009-12-17T01:10:00.000-08:00

It was the big day of the show. Our kwaya was singing at second Mass which started at 9 am, we had to be at our kwaya teachers house by 8:30 to practice. We all arrived wearing our awesome new uniforms, lavender "satin" skirts and blouses with a sweatheart neckline, a white sash around our waists with a white "rose" and tails hanging down. The skirt has a slit up the side with a white underlay. The woman all braided their hair with rasta and the men wore their new cream colors suits with their lavender skirts. We looked "smart sana" - very smart. There are five choirs at our parish, three at the main church and two at the outstation church, but we all joined together to sing at second Mass.

After second Mass we all gathered in our own choir groups and quicky practiced one last song before the competition was to begin. A little background info - we have been practicing songs for weeks and weeks. Neither Caroline nor I knew what we were practicing these songs for, Christmas maybe? Advent? Feast of Christ the King? We were told that we needed to get our uniforms by the 28th because we were wearing them on the last Sunday in November.

We suddenly realize how serious everyone is taking this event as we separate into our kwayas and sit down, however we still have no idea what is going on. Eventually they announce a line up. Kwaya ya Inyasi Loyola (St Ignatius Choir) will be singing fourth. Oh goodness, this is a competition. They announce that all choirs will sing four songs, an entrance song, one common song (Kwa Nino Leo Mnaimba Kwa Furaha), one traditional song, and then one more African traditional song. We will be judged (by the priests) and then there will be an award. My palms start to get sweaty and my heart starts racing. The first choir goes and sings well, the second one goes and the third one follows. Its time for Inyasi. They call us up and we get into our lines to dance in. Good thing Caroline and I were on the ends of the soprano and alto voices because otherwise I don't think anyone would have seen us (insert extreme sarcasm here). We danced in to an amazing song called "Mvua Inarutubisha Vitu Vyote" (The rain falls down on everything). Next was the song everybody was singing "Kwa Nini Leo Mnaimba Kwa Furaha" (For today you sing with happiness), followed by "Hosana" by Handel, and ended with "Ni Mwanadamu" (I am a person". This last song was accompanied by wanakwaya (choir members) using a kinu (a grinder tool) to make a beat and a stool being swiveled on top of a pot, while the rest of us did a traditional dance from the Fipa tribe. We were in a U shape, and as I mentioned before Caroline and I were the book ends, right in front so everybody could see the wazungu dancing the traditional african dance. I was so relieved when it was over, however Im not going to lie, my instinctual performance mode was in full gear as I was singing in front of a packed church.

We sat down and listened to the last choir sing. Everyone did very well, and they asked each choir to stand up and sing one more song. We awaited the results with anticipation. They started by announcing the last place kwaya, then fourth, the third, and then second. We were none of those. We received 230 points out of 300 points, the highest of all the choirs!!! We were the winners!!! ..or so we thought....They told us to stand up and be recognized because we performed the best out of all the choirs, HOWEVER, our teachers made a mistake and broke one of the rules. We were only allowed to have one conductor and our teachers switched halfway through. So we were deducted ten points leaving us in third place. Turns out that the first and second places get prizes, we ended up getting nothing but "pole sana" (very sorry) from everyone watching. As we walked home, literally everyone we walked by asked us how we did in the Siku ya Tamasha (the dar of the show). We said "tulishindwa" (we were overcome), but we explained what happened. Really we know we were the true winners, and we still pride ourselves on our stellar performance. There is always next year...

Kwaya

2009-08-09T02:23:00.000-07:00

Caroline and I recently joined one of the choirs at our Church. Our choir, or kwaya, is called the Ignatius Loyola Kwaya and we practice every Monday, Tuesday, and Saturdays and then sing at one of the two Masses on Sundays. We have quickly become a part of the Ignatius kwaya family, and are now expected to attend all of the events and trips thats the kwaya goes on. For example, after signing on Sundays, we go and visit the sick. Each week we visit a different person, but each week no matter how long Mass is, the visit centers me and helps me reflect on my time here. My first visit we went to a member of the kwaya who was sick. We stood outside her house and sang songs for a little while, then we went to another house and did the same thing. It really is a very simple act, however the visible joy that it brings the people we visit makes the entire day worthwhile.

Two sundays ago was Confirmation. The week before all three kwayas from the Church practiced together and prepared for the Auxilary Bishop to come. Practices were long and confusing as all of the songs are in Kiswahili and they were all new to me. As I struggled to learn the songs, I also struggled to obtain the proper uniform we were all required to wear (white long sleeve shirt and a black shirt). A friend helped me out and surprised me with what I needed. It was not quite the same with the songs. It was Iganitius kwaya's turn to sing at Misa ya Kwanza (First Mass at 7 am), so we all were there for the two hour long Mass, dancing and singing. Then we had a short break and lined up for Misa ya Pili (second Mass at 9 am). The candidates lined up dressed in their red and white robes, hair all done up in wigs and silk flowers, high heels, makeup, the works. By this time the sun was beating down on us and there was no shade to be found. We started singing a song I had never heard before and this started to trend of the day (dance and move my lips like I am singing). I should also include that I had a cold the entire week before and was unable to hear very well because of congestion, so even attemtping to sing would have been painful for the people around me. After about a half hour of dancing and singing in our line behind the candidates, we processed into the Church and sat behind the candidates.

Well, let me tell you, this Mass was ther longest, the most lively, and the most celebratory Mass I believe I have ever been to. We did not leave the Church until 1:30 in the afternoon, the Mass lasted 4 1/2 hours. The length of the Mass is just a side note compared to the details of the Mass. The candidates has pratices dances to some of the songs and so at different times they would stand up and perform a choreographed dance, all 300 of them. The kwaya was definitely put to shame. We continued our dancing and singing, but were definitely overpowered by the excited kids. The Bishop met with each of the kids and their sponsors, blessed them, and then at the end of the Mass took pictures with all of them. They danced up the aisle during the offeratory (they usually do this but this time it was extra extravagant and beautiful), in the procession they had a child sitting on the shoulders of a man holding the lectionary high in the air, they presented gifts of bananas, water, bread, the collection (or sadaka), and many other things. Even though we were all fading towards the end, we were all rejuvenated by the excitement and celebration of the day.

The next day I had to attend a Misa ya Rehemu, or Mass of Mercy, for a man who had died the day before. I have never been to one of these here but the kwaya was singing at it so I had to go. I snuck in the back as i was coming from school and they motioned for me to come sit up in the front with them. I arrived just in time to view the body. The coffin was so small and narrow almost seemingly for a child, yet it was an old man who had passed away. Coffins are sold on the side of the road here, literally right next to beds and armoirs. They have bows wrapped around them. Life here is fragile. At the Mass there were women wailing, people comforting, mourning, and trying to accept. It was difficult to watch and experience, especially since the day before, right in the exact same spot, many children received the gifts of the Holy Spirit through Confirmation. It was a very joyous occasion and now 24 hours later we are mourning. The people need the Church. I need the Church. I have found a warm and welcoming family there, especially with the kwaya. I see Mshauri on the street and greet him, Thedei waved at us while we were on the dala yesterday, I work with another member, David, Mama Pascalina waves hello every day when I pass her house on the way to school as does Agnes. My kwaya is my family.

I Love Clean Sheet Day

2009-06-20T05:54:00.001-07:00

The feeling of crawling into bed after you put on clean sheets is almost unbeatable I'd argue. The tightness over the mattress, the coolness of the sheets, aaahhhhhhh. I have always enjoyed this (as I believe many people do), clean sheet day here in Tanzania has taken on a new meaning. After waking up early on a Saturday morning and spending two hours doing laundry, having clean clothes and clean sheets is quite an accomplishment. While I still walk away with battle wounds (raw knuckles and dry hands), knowing that I washed all of my clothes in buckets by hand leaves me with a feeling of pride. I washed my sheets yesterday morning and let them hang out in thet hot sun to dry. I went to check on them later and saw that only one of my two sets made it through the entire process unscathed, a bird pooped on one of my sheets so those had to be rewashed. Washing sheets and clothes used to be as simple as pouring some soap into a machine and turning some knobs. I now walk away sunburned and sore.

Things in my life here may not be as easy, fast or simple as they once were, but once they are finished I feel as if I have completed a great task. Sometimes when it is my turn to cook dinner I think about how nice it would be to open a box of rice and pour it into the water and wait a few minutes and then its done! Or rinsing vegetables under the tap water and then being able to eat them. Here, a simple meal of rice and veggies can take over an hour to prepare. Sorting the rice to take out the rocks, straw, dirt and bugs is a tedious job, having to heat the vegetables is also somewhat tedious, however the alternative of typhoid forces us to continue to do this. Beans have to be cleaned and soaked, no opening a ajr of beans and heating them up on the stove for us, it takes about two hours to cook beans. When we run out of water in our makeshift "running water tank" bucket showers suffice.

Don't get me wrong. This is not a complaining post. I started to think about these things when I realized how much work goes into everything here. The quick way that I was used to donig things at home does not exist here. These are actually the moments when I have the most fun, friends coming to help cook, practicing swahili over sorting rice, having dinner by candlelight when the power goes out. COming back to my original point, coming from a place where I can use a beater to mix ingredients in a cake, pop oatmeal in a microwave and have it be ready in 30 seconds, or high speed internet - having to spend 2-3 hours cooking a simple meal makes me feel like I have accomplished something great but it also makes me very appreciative of the hard work of the Tanzanians here. Everything takes a long time to do. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, everything. To do all of these things on top of raising a family, finding a job or going to work, living with the realities of life here (which I am slowly seeing more and more of and as I see it life here is not fair), is more difficult than I can imagine.

We went to a friends house for dinner two nights ago. They don't have electricity so as it got dark the room became pitch black. They brought out an oil lamp and we ate dinner by that light. Our friend spent literally all day preparing this meal for us, as it takes a long time to cook over hot coals. This is not an exaggeration, he cooked pilau (spiced rice), meat and vegetables and I have no doubt that when he said he cooked all day, he literally cooked all day. Having someone do this for us shows me how much our friendship means to them. It is a sacrifice to spend all of these hours doing something like preparing a meal for other people. It is a sign of love and the "karibu" hospitality found here. People will go out of their way to make sure you are feeling welcome, and if its a good friend you can bet that they will pour themselves into doing something for you.

As I go to sleep on my new clean sheets, I feel accomplished on my own small tasks of washing my sheets and cooking a meal, how also extremely humbled by these experiences. I get a glimpse into what the hard work must be like for people here, but it is only a glimpse. Our friend who cooked us dinner knows about the sacrifices that have to be made, the time that has to be spent on every day chores. The Mamas who carry their children on their back as they sell chapate and mandazi in the morning know the hard work of every day life, the children washing their clothes in the dirty river know the unfairness and the harshness of life. My small experiences elevate the respect I have for the hard workers here to a new level. I thought I knew what hard work was, but after having seen how some of our friends live here my previous thoughts about hard work have been reshaped. I only get to experience the small accomplishments I mentioned before, however, I don't think I can go to sleep on clean sheets again without being grateful for the blessings God has placed in my life and the priviledge of being and knowing life here in Africa.

Thank you for clean sheet day.

It's a Good Thing I Brought my Swiss Army Knife to Africa...

2009-05-31T06:16:00.000-07:00

My Swiss Army knife came in handy yesterday during the preparations for my birthday party. My community mates and I planned on having people over in the afternoon for some chakula (food) and piga story (telling stories).

Before this I should share how I woke up. Starting at 3 am, the rooster who lives literally 3 feet from my room began crowing. Not only did this rooster crow, but all of the roosters in Mabibo decided to have a mini convention and crow at different intervals. After trying to sleep until at least 6:30, I opened my door t streamers o magazine cut outs of celebrities hanging from my door. Nicholas, Caroline, and Christen surprised me with these hilarious pictures of random people along with a happy birthday sign on my door and some other notes attached to the wall. This was going to be a good day!

Slowly people started trickling in around 4, which is actually early since we said it is starting at 3. Nicholas, Caroline and our friend Davey went to get the potatoes for the chips we were going to make. Too many hands and not enough knives, this is where the Swiss Army knife comes in. Christen and I whip ours out and what do you know! We have six people sitting on our front porch peeling many kilos of potatoes and slicing them into french fry wedges. As more people come, the cooking goes quicker and soon enough we are frying all of the chips. Whenever we have a party at our house, we usually cook chips and katchumbali (a vegetable mixture) because its relatively easy to make for a lot of people and they all help cook it. So the fire was set up outside over some charcoal on the ground, the potatoes cooked in about an hour and a half and around 8 pm dinner was ready. We all sat in our living room, 14 of us in total I believe, and the MC, Jeflo, began the evening. Tanzanian birthdays, as I mentioned in a previous post, have a cake feeding part. If you remember, this is my absolute favvvooorrite part, NOT. I loathe this part of the parties because it can be extremely awkward depending on if you know the person feeding you, if they are joking around or being serious, and if you know the other people there. But this time because it was my birthday, I got to feed all of my friends. So I cut the cake (Caroline made a chocolate coconut cake - it was delicious!), into tiny pieces and started to make my way around the room feeding each guest a piece on a toothpick. Not awkward for me, but awkward for some of them!!! Then at the end a few people fed me cake, not too bad because I had done it to all them first. So then after the cake feeding comes the actual dinner (nothing like having dessert before dinner!). The mtoto (child), aka the birthday person, goes first so I got my chips and katchumbali and then everybody else followed. After dinner there is a speech making part to the party, so our MC got up and directed the whole thing. He announced that this was the time for saying any words that they wish to me and wishing me luck in the next year. Slowly, one by one everybody got up and said something. Keep in mind that this whole evening is in Swahili, and some of these people I have only met a few times, one of them I only met one evening for a few hours but he came to my party! Phew, that was finished, I received many blessings from my friends and many nice things were said, but again it was in Swahili so I didn't catch all of it. My favorite part of the whole evening was what happened last. We turned up the music and had a legit dance party in our living room...around the coffee table. Listening to Jay Z, Beyonce, P Square, Rihanna, don't forget the Celine Dion and Shania Twain every once in a while, while dancing in your one small section of the room, watching our friends check themselves out in the mirror and realizing that this was actually happening was the absolute best part of my day. Everyone was having such a good time and we were all together. Thats what a birthday should be.

Times like these make me so thankful for the family I have formed here. These people are not just my friends, but they are the ones we celebrate good times with and commiserate over bad times. While I am away from my own family back at home, celebrations like birthdays and holidays, times when we ge together with our friends and family remind me that I am definitely living the life I love.

National Geographic-esque

2009-05-08T07:32:00.000-07:00

You are looking at a National Geographic magazine special on East African Indian culture. There is a fascinating picture full of color, lights, people, costumes, arabic architecture, the starry night sky, the picture is bursting with music and celebration. Jewels on women's sari's are clinging together and making noise, traditional music is being danced to by henna decorated women and excited men and children. Confetti flies through the air, torches light the different corners of the square.

This is how I spent last weekend. I went to a wedding on Zanzibar with some friends from Dar. Before we left we borrowed saris and jewelery and prepared for our long weekend away. On Thursday I left with some of the family and arrived in the early afternoon. As I was getting ready with some of the other women, I asked them if my dress would be ok, they gave me this look and gave my one of their punjabi's to wear (the Indian dress with the pants underneath). Wearin a bright blue and yellow Indian dress all night was the right kick off to this weekend. I received compliments galore as I entered the temple for the beginning prayer. All the women sat on the floor around the bride who was receiving blessings along with the family. After this we all went back to different houses to rest and regroup before the big event of the evening: the henna party. I got to the party before most of the other guests and was able to soak in the surroundings. There were a bagillion tables, a stage with a fainting couch for the couple, some music, and the scenery of the ocean front with the starry sky. People started arriving and the event began. The couple sat on the stage the entire time, henna was passed out and we decorated each others hands with it (mine is still on my hands), there was some dancing, some food, and a lot of socializing. I had met the family before so it was really nice to get to see them again. At birthday parties here there is a part where ther birthday person feeds cake to each guest and the guests do likewise for the birthday person. I don't think it has to go much without saying that this is my absolutely least favorite part of a birthday party. So of course at this henna party there is cake...and the guests so up and feed the couple...and my friend tells me "Hey Emily, lets go up there together." And I reply with "No, thanks." Instead of saying "ok, thats fine" I get dragged up there literally, have to stand on the stage in front of everyone and feed a complete stranger cake while she is feeding me cake, and then we take a picture.

Thursday night ended around 2 am after some dancing, Friday morning I went to the market with some of the women and then went on a little moped ride around stone town and then to pick up my friend Christen who was coming. After resting we got ready for Friday nights event: the dancing party. We donned our saris and headed off to the huge reception hall. The chairs were set up against the walls (almost like an awkward high school dance) and there was a decorative centerpiece in the middle of the floor. Again the stage was decorated for the couple. They walked in with a processon behind them, they lit some candles in the centerpiece and then following a younger couple doing a choreographed dance, they danced together. After this the singles dance started. Everybody circles the room doing certain simple dance moves, at some points there were circles within circles doing differenty dances. It was very neat to watch because the women wore amazingly beautiful and intricate saris and the men wore traditional Indian clothes as well. Everyone looked beautiful! These dances were a lot of fun but only lasted half the night. About halfway through some performances started. They call this "intermission" funny enough. Some younger family members performed for the bride and groom and we all watched. Very entertaining as they were mostly Indian dances. After this the couples dancing began, still circle dancing but you use sticks and hit them with your partners sticks and then with the persons behind you all as you are turning with your partner and walking in a big circle. A little confusing at first but also a lot of fun! Towards the end of the night we gave up with the sticks and just danced all together. Another late night, got home around 2:30 am.

Saturday morning was supposed to begina at 7 am with prayer at the grooms house, but we didnt arrive there until 9 am. However the celebration was still going on, and we sat and watched at the groom received blessings, perfume, and other dressings from the women of the family. Then we all headed over to the temple fore more prayer and blessings, as this was the day of the actual wedding. I was wearing a white and pink sari, perfect for the morning, and felt absolutely beautiful! The other women were all wearing saris, too, and they kept on asking me if I like to wear them (if you have talked to me about this you know the answer is YES!). After the prayers we had lunch at the temple (Indian food is delicious), and then headed back home to rest and get ready for the wedding. Saturday night was the biggest celebration I have ever attended. We dressed in our nicest saris and went to the grooms house around 7 pm. There was a Tanzanian band playing party music, the groom sat nervously in a car holding a decorated coconut as a gift for the bride (she was going to give him the same), and all of the grooms family was dancing outside the house. The procession started with the band, the family followed behind and the car was last. We all danced in the main streets of Zanzibar all the way to the temple in Stone Town. This is when the National Geographic-ness begins. Imagine a few hundred men and women dancing in the streets of a tropical island adorned with old arabic architecture. There were so many colors from the clothes, the music was loud, people were singing and shouting. There were tourists outside taking pictures of us (that felt kind of weird), and people came out of their houses to watch what was going on. We got to Stone Town where the streets are too narrow for cars to fit down so we all squeezed down these alleys still dancing and finally got to an open square where the dancing swelled. This is where to insert the first image I wrote. I was mixed in with all of the family, being pulled in and out of different circles dancing, singing, laughing, having the time of my life. I felt as if I was in a snapshot from a National Geographic article. After about a half hur of this dancing extravaganza, we all went into the temple for the wedding ceremony. The women sat on the floor as usual and the men stood outside, the ceremony was full of ritualistic things which I wish I knew what they meant. After the cermeony, this was now about 11:30 pm, we went home and eventually went to sleep. Sunday morning came and it was time to leave the Zanzibar island wedding weekend. We said goodbye to the family, I will see them again soon I hope, and went on our way back home to Dar.

I think what struck me the most about the weekend was the hospitality of the family. We borrowed saris from them, they took us on the ferry and opened their homes to us for us to sleep in. The first day I met some new cousins and they literally told me "come with us, we are going to be good friends now." And we were. I saw the people I met last time and the greeted me like a good friend, they fed us, they helped us get dressed, they treated us like any other member of the family. This hospitality is something that I don't know if it will ever stop surprising me. I felt as much a part of their family as any of them did, absolutely incredible.

Friends and Lessons

2009-03-29T07:48:00.000-07:00

This past week Caroline and Christen had midterm break so they went away for a few days, Nicholas' family was here visiting so they were off doing their own thing, and I was going to school, coming home, and then......just being. Or so I thought thats how it would be. Many of our friends knew these things were going on and were surprised when I said I was just going to be at school and then I would be alone the rest of the day. I didn't really think much of it, until the first day I was alone. Nicholas and his family went together somewhere and I had the house to myself. Bang, bang. The gate? Who is it? Nani? No response, ok great, lets see who it is. 4:30 pm, I get home from school about 4:20. First visitor of the evening, a friend who I had only met the night before and wanted to come see the others. Pole, bwana. They weren't here. He left after a while and I went back inside. A little while later, bang, bang. The gate again? Ok, so I get up to see who it is. Ah! One of our very good friends, Mussa, who I saw earlier on my way home from school and he told me he would stop by because he knew I was alone. He was coming to tell me he wasn't able to stop by today because he was so tired from work but he would come by tomorrow. Ok, said goodbye went inside. I started cooking dinner (which by the way after cooking dinner for four people it isv ery weird to cook for only myself) and another bang, bang on the gate. This time it was one of our best friend, Godi, who also knew I was alone and wanted to come keep me company! He was the last visitor for that day, but the next day, Thursday the same thing happened. Only different people came.

Thursday and Friday were filled with my friends coming over and hanging out with me because they all knew I was alone and didn't want me to be lonely. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat there reading magazines and books, but what mattered to them was that they were there with me. I even met some new people these nights, as random people stopped by to greet Nicholas' family (even though they weren't there), and friends brought their friends over.

I realized after thinking about these past few days that even though I have only been here for four months, the people I have met here have quickly become my close friends and even some of them as close as family. It meant a lot to me that they took the time to stop by and spend an hour with me because they didn't want me to be alone. People are busy during the week with work, with school, who really has the time to visit with a friend for a while during the week? It didn't matter to them if they were busy, they showed me how much they cared for me and our friendship to take the time out and come spend a few hours with me for a few nights a week.

As I mentioned in previous emails/blogs, I am constantly amazed at the hospitality and generosity people have shown me here. This follows suit. The friendships I am making here, while they are still in the beginning stages, are going to be strong, lasting relationships. They are always teaching me something new whether they know it or not. They teach me swahili, they teach me the culture, but they also teach me patience, how we should show we care about each other, to give and give and give even if you have nothing, to value those who are close to you.

I am going to steal Caroline's word to describe how I am feeling right now: content. I am sure that this is what I am meant to be doing right now, it feels so right and it means so much to me. The relationships I am forming are very life giving, teaching is challenging yet enlightening, I am learning to be completely open to things and to welcome new experiences. Through all of this I am feeling very content. I am at peace. I know that God is doing something in my heart through these experiences and lessons, and I hope that I am sharing some of that with you all.

"It's an angel!"

2009-02-13T07:10:00.000-08:00

So my latest adventure in Tanzania started with the fact that I have not gone to Mass in English in over two months and I was realllyyy itching for something familiar. I woke up extra early on a dreary, rainy Saturday morning to attend Mass at the Jesuits at 7 am. The Mass was wonderful and just what I needed. I understood everything and was really able to participate, the spiritual lift I needed. I had breakfast with them afterwards (I was told I was a good luck charm because it was the first time the cats didn’t bother them during Mass).

My real adventure begins on the way home around 9 am. I was almost home when I hear someone say “Emirrryyyy!” I looked back and saw it was my friend Erasto. We exchanged greetings and then he asked me what I was doing later. Oh goodness, I thought, what is he going to ask me to do. So I say I don’t know but I also don’t know if my community mates have anything planned. As I can see my response is not the one he wished for, he asks me to go to his friends birthday party with him later that day. I said that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go but he should call me later. He says I really should try to come, he really wants me to come and so does his friend (whom I have never met). Ok, so I bought some time to decide what I was going to do. I hadn’t heard anything all day so I thought I was off the hook. Caroline and Christen came back from Posta around 3:30 and informed me that Erasto called and texted us and said he will be by around 4 pm to pick me up. Yeah so I had a half hour. I realized I had not showered since Thursday night because I got back late on Friday and was going to go for a run later that day, so I grabbed a bucket to get water to take a shower. I walked outside and guess who was standing there! Erasto was at our house a half hour early (Tanzanians never show up on time, they maybe show up an hour or so late so I thought I had some time). Not only was he early, and I had not taken a shower, but earlier in the day I did laundry so all of my sheets, towels, and underwear were hanging outside to dry.

Ok, turn around, grab something to wear and just suck it up and go. I felt my face turning bright red (that has happened a few times here already). I quickly got ready and five minutes later we were out the door. I asked him where we were going today and he responded with “to support.” Uh? “It is my friends birthday, we go to support him.” Ok. Cool. We went to his house so he could change and I met his mother. We sat outside together, she only speaks Swahili and I only speak maybe 10 phrases of Swahili so our conversation did not go very far. We said an awful lot of “karibu” “asante” – “welcome” “thank you.” So if anybody is coming to Tanzania we are very welcome at Erasto’s house.

I met Erasto on my first day here and then on the fifth day here (the next time I saw him) he quizzed me on who he was and when I met him and he also quizzed me on my Swahili. I do not know any of his friends, neither do my community mates. So here I am venturing off in Africa alone with a Tanzanian friend to a place I have never been before to “support” a person I have never met. This is what I was anxious about. Thank goodness before we left Caroline told Erasto to take good care of me. Yeah, thanks. Well he took this very seriously (and I think he enjoyed it). We got to out stop (after he paid all of the dala fares) and he took an even stronger hold of my hand – he had been holding my hand almost the entire way, this is pretty common here though – and he held onto me for dear life as we crossed the road. Then he got on a kick of asking me if I was fearing or worrying. Because he had to take care of me he did not want me to fear or worry, so I had to give all of my fear and worry to him (what was I fearing and worrying about, I still don’t know but it’s ok because he took care of it). We walked and walked and I began to wonder where exactly he was taking me, and then just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger (by this time he had asked me to be his girlfriend), we arrive at the house of the birthday boy before the birthday boy. His mother and sisters were home so we sat inside and waited…and waited…and waited…I took in the room – the blinking Christmas lights, the stuffed animals displayed in the china cabinet next to the TV, the picture of Jesus on the wall. Finally another person came and Erasto leaves me to go outside. So I am sitting in this strangers house along. Soon he came back and we both went outside together where we did some more waiting. Slowly more people come and eventually even the birthday boy comes!!!

Tanzanian birthday parties typically follow a pattern, eat, drink, eat some more, drink some more, feed each other birthday cake, make a speech about the birthday person, talk some more and then go home. So sure enough, we eat samosas, chapate, and other snacks, drank fanta, ate some more and drank some more. Then the birthday cake came out and DC, the birthday boy, cut it into smallish pieces and got ready for the feeding – the most awkward part of any birthday here. I got ready, keep in mind I met this person maybe 2 hours earlier, and it comes to be my turn. So he takes a toothpick and a piece of cake and we get awkwardly close and he feeds me a piece of cake. Meanwhile this whole time there is a dude on the other side of the table taking pictures of me the entire time we are there. Every time I look up he had the came pointed at me and is smiling. Well my cake experience is done for this birthday – phew. We finally do some introductions, I have been sitting at a table of all guys for 2 ours and none of them talked to me and I didn’t talk to any of them. Turns out I am the first “person like me” that they ever met. I was also the only girl. Even though I didn’t talk to them the entire time, they were definitely talking about me in Swahili because they were quite obvious about looking at me while talking. Towards the end, DC wanted to show us his hens. I was like what? You have chickens, ok. Yeah no he has hundreds of chickens. He had a pen for the older chickens and then a pen for the baby chicks, there were literally hundreds. My favorite chickens are the ones with their neck feathers missing because they got into fights, they look so funny! DC walked Erasto and me to the dala stop and somehow I ended up with the rest of the birthday cake. On the last dala, we were smushed in the bus and a baby next to me was staring at me. Erasto leaned in to me and whispered, "He must be thinking 'It's an angel'." That might have been the best line of the evening. We got home and my community mates continued to tease me about the evening as we enjoyed the rest of the cake,

Also a quick update on everything else. My one student crush-er has turned into three - that I know of. Samson and Claus have joined the ranks and opt to sit with me outside instead of playing football with everybody else. I have also come to the conclusion that David is Napoleon Dynamite. They dance exactly the same way. I caught David doing a Michael Jackson impression the other day, he was totally in his own world. I wrote in a Valentine post-it I gave him in class that he dances really well. He came up to me and asked me if I meant it. I said of course! He was so happy that he did some more dance moves right there in class. Today he made a cell phone out of a piece of paper and was talking on it all day long, creativity at its finest in Tanzania.

What do the Macarena, Rede, and a Bucket Top Have in Common?

2009-01-30T07:02:00.000-08:00

Happy 8 weeks! What a wonderful way to celebrate this occasion this morning, we had Mass...in English!!!!!!! My first English Mass in two months!!!!! It was so comforting to be able to fully participate and understand everything that was going on, the words being prayed and the music being sung meant so much, more than they ever have before. It was just what I needed this morning, a great way to praise God and celebrate these past two months.

Well now that I wrote about my first day of school two weeks late, I am going to write about the past three weeks of school. First I have to say that I cannot believe I have been teaching for three weeks. The days go by so quickly!!! I would like to share some of the highlights of my time at Gonzaga.

David. David is a student who I will probably be sharing many stories about. He is 9 years old and has an amazing imagination. He does not have too many friends and so oftentimes entertains himself during Tea and Lunch. So one day while I was outside with the students I look over and see David in the middle of the field dancing. Yes, David is dancing the Macarena. And it was a fully legit Macarena at that. He had all of the hand motions, the hip wiggle (which was his favorite) and the jumping and doing it in a different direction. He was even mouthing something but I couldn't hear what it was. Then he tried it again...with a half coconut shell balanced on his head.If it fell off he had to start over again. I don't think he saw me because he would have stopped, but it was so entertaining to watch. A few days later I saw him by himself again so I went over to him. I asked what he was doing as he was sawing at some leaves with a large plastic pipe. He responded "cooking." "Oh," I said, "what are you cooking?" "Meat." Cool. So I sat down and engaged him in conversation about his cooking. He had taken a broken slab of concrete, found some leaves an a broken plastic pipe and started chopping the meat. Then he "turned the stove on," literally turned an imaginary dial on he front of the bench he was going to cook on and put all of the chopped meat on the stove. He added some salt (dirt) and some pepper (dirt from another location) and then stirred it all together. What comes next is great. He found a rock and said it was a coconut. So he took a "machete" and cut it open, poured the coconut juice into his concoction and then started grating the coconut!! Of course he added these shavings to the dish. When it was fially finished we had to go inside, but I was really looking forward to getting to try some. Maybe next time.

Lunch today was my favorite part of the day. Nicholas brought a "frisbee" to school, actually a plastic top of a bucket and started teaching some of the students how to play. So I joined in that for a little. I kicked the soccer ball around when it went out of bounds and got reactions from the students "Teacha, teacha!" Yes, teacha Emily can play soccer. The girls dragged me over to play rede with them, a surprisingly violent game involving throwing a ball at people and then targeting one person to hit. When you are hit you are out. I played with all of these girls who are half my height, I was not at an advantage.

I have a posse at Gonzaga. There are three or four girls who follow me around everywhere. Whenever we go outside they are right behind me. The entire time we are outside they are asking me questions and sitting with me. I ask "dont you want to go play with your friends?" They respond "We can play here!" I also have a student who has a crush on me. As the days go by it becomes more and more obvious, but also really cute. Today he found out how old I was because th girls were asking me, and I asked him how old he was. He is 9. He started off by asking me if Teacher Nicholas was my brother, when I said yes and saw his reaction I knew there was a reason for the question. This boy tried so hard to be the last one in the classroom so he can walk with me places. Today he purposely didnt finish his test so that he could stay later with me, I know this because he is a smart boy and usually finished relatively quickly. He just hangs around trying to pass time so that other students will leave. He sat with me a few times at Tea and Lunch when I was sitting with the girls. It takes guts at that age to sit with the opposite gender when all of your friends are on the opposite side of the room. I am sure I will have more stories about him as well.

Well, tomorrow is my first PTA meeting which will be conducted in Kiswahili so I will have no idea what is going on. I get to teach religion to Standard three!!! I am so excited about this. Teaching religion is possibly one of my favorite things to do.

So some reflections of these past weeks: Being in Africa is difficult. Being so far away from home and friends and family is hard. This is definitely a challenging vocation and sometimes I think, God are you serious that you want me here? But then days like today happen, or the kids from across the road see me and come running to me, or I understand a little more Swahili and I am reminded of my purpose here. I am reminded of the Gospel from my sending Mass, about how Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. I am totally a branch right now, depending completely and wholeheartedly on that vine to give me everything I need. How can I survive here on my own? There is no way. That vine has been the one thing keeping me going. Without it my work here would be fruitless.

I love Africa. I love the people here. I do not want to be any other place in the world. I have been embraced by everything here and in turn I have given my heart to everything here. I am so blessed to be able to have this experience, and I hope that through these messages you can share in my joy and happiness here. You have been so supportive in my formation and my journey. I cannot thank you all enough, so I hope these glimpses into my life here will show a little bit how grateful I am for everything you all have done.

Take care, God Bless, and at Mass or whenever you are looking at the sky, know that I am sharing in that same Eucharist and looking at the same moon and stars. I think about that every night. I miss you all.

And You Do the Hokey Pokey...

2009-01-25T05:28:00.001-08:00

I started teaching almost two weeks ago already. Needless to say these past two weeks have been extremely busy and that is why my post about the first day of school is two weeks late. But here it is anyway.

Tuesday, January 13th marked the beginning of the 2009 academic year. The students had just had a month and a half off from school and I was just celebrating my being in country for 5 weeks. I am teaching at Gonzaga Primary School which started last year with the generous donation from a family wanting to promote Jesuit ecucation. There was a school/orphanage, Sarah Cobet, which was closing so Gonzaga took in the orphans to educate. Now we teach those students, many poor students from the area as well as many orphans from an organization called S.O.S. I am teaching standard 3 and 4, about the age equivalent of grades 3 and 4 (although I have students ranging from 8-11 in my standard 3). I am the class teacher for standard three so this means I am basically their homeroom teacher/moderator/mother at school/playmate/anything else you can think of.

So on the first day of school Nicholas and I walked to Gonzaga through the twisty alleyways behind peoples houses, over little streams, and through piles of garbage. We rounded the corner and saw a massive amount of little people standing inside the gates of Gonzaga. I became even more excited than I was before. We had a staff meeting the Wednesday before school started (yes the first staff meeting for the whole year was held only 6 days before school started). The meeting was supposed to begin at 7:30 but in actuality and true to Tanzanian time we did not start until 10:30 and we finished at 1:30. We are supposed to have about 12 people on staff, by this meeting we had 10. At the meeting one of the teachers told us he was not going to return so we were down to 9. We had one other new teacher at the meeting and then two days later he also, through text message, told us he was not coming to teach anymore. So we are starting off short 4 teachers. Ok, its ok we can do this! On the first day of school we have two new teachers who were hired over the weekend. However, one of the teachers from last year did not show up because he was sick.

So I get to school and I am told that the classroom I was shown the day before was not going to be my classroom anymore. I had already put my one poster up on the wall and started to get the feel of the room, but Hey! nothing like some last minute changes! Ok, so my classroom is moved, thats ok. We have no power. We have no running water. We have no class lists so I do not know who is supposed to be in my class. We have one schedule for the entire school to share. We have one computer at Gonzaga but we cannot use it because we have no power and therefore we cannot print off any more copies of the schedule. We are starting out on a great foot. We line up for assembly and I find the standard 3s. I was the first one to introduce myself, I was obviously the one who stuck out the most. After a little while Nicholas calls me up in front of everyone and invites me to do the hokey pokey with him. Nothing like doing the hokey pokey in front of 300 students on the first day of work. I had a great time! The students love it and by now we have done it a few times (the students laugh whenever Teacher Emily does the hokey pokey).

After assembly we went to our classroom and I was supposed to entertain the students for the first two hours.....I had things planned but I was assuming that the students would a least have a pencil and a notebook with them. I was wrong. None of the students had a pencil, notebook, or any of their textbooks. Gonzaga is an English medium school yet the accents of the students are so difficult to understand. They had a difficult time with my accent too. So here we are, me and 30 9 year old trying to communicate with each other, but mostly just saying what? huh? what? We went over class rules, the schedule of classes and I tried to have them write down some information about themselves. I gave them all index cards and wrote on the board what I wanted them to write on it. So many of them had questions that I wrote an example on the board using some of my information. So I wrote "my name is Emily Wallace, my birthday is May 30, my favorite color is green, I have an older brother Patrick and a younger sister Kate." I cannot tell you how many students I have whose names are Emily and whose birthday is May 30th and favorite color is green! I knew this was going to be a trick. For those of you who are interested, I have some interesting names of students. Wenceslaus, Moses, Sharifa, Witness, Shalom, Claus, Joha, Enea, Manka, Mpeli, and Anuciata. I will definitely be sharing stories about some of these students, I have many already.

I survived that first day, and the first week and even the second week. It gets hot at the school, especially since we have no fans in the classroom, but we also have no power to run them...

I cannot tell you all enough how much I love teaching. I was very apprehensive about teaching before I came here and even while prepping here but I leave at the end of the day excited to go back the next morning. Every morning when I wake up I cant wait to get to school and greet all of the students. This is the first time that I have been this excited about a job. This is exactly where I am supposed to be. I have no doubt in my mind. God has a crazy plan, it was this time last year that I was finishing my application for JVI and I was so unsure of what I was going to do this year. After many twists and turns, I have been led to this place so far away from my family and friends yet so close to my calling to love and serve. I am experiencing a peace in my life because I have such satisfaction in knowing that this is where God wants me. Every time I see my students and they run up to me, I know that this is how God is calling me to love each and every day for the next two years and I could not be happier.

I miss you all and I hope you are finding peace this new year.

The Art of the Dala Dala

2008-12-28T02:44:00.000-08:00

Tanzania is not for the tall nor the unadventurous.

So on Thursday 12/11 the girls took a trip to the beach. Even though we live 5 miles from the water, it takes 2 hours to get to the beach. The trip probably would take a half hour if the roads were better and if there was a brdge. the Dala-dala is the bus in Tanzania. It is really a mini-bus that look as through it was gutted and a few rows of benches were nailed to the floor, not kidding. So we took 3 different dalas to the beach that day. There are different kids of dalas, some that you can barely fit in because they are so small, some that feel as though they are about to fall apart, some of them barely have a floor, et cetera. The driver is on the right side of the car and we drive on the other side of the road...most of the time. Getting on the dala is a free-for-all, there is much pushing, shoving, and elbowing. Really anything goes. We got on the first dala in Mabibo, where we live and took it to Corner. That trip was uneventful thankfully. The next one was slightly more interesting because this is when we really used our elbowing skills and in turn got elbowed ourselves. When the dala comes, the people inside are pushing to get off just as the people are pushing to get on. This usually happens are the dala is still moving. Finally it stops and the process finishes. Now keep in mind that in these dalas there are about three rows of seats, you can squeeze two maybe three people in the rows and then depending on how tall the dala is, maybe standing 3 people in the aisle. However this is usually not the case. You usually end up sitting on peoples laps, having people stand on your feet faces right next to each other. There is so sense of personal space here. We got off the second dala and walked about 15 minutes to the Ferry, conveniently right next to the fish market. We pushed and shoved our way onto the ferry, naturally. We finally found our last dala. Somewhat crowded, but not like sardines, this trip took 20 minutes. We arrived at our stop and i had absolutely no idea where we were, looked like we were in the middle of no where. We walked about 20 more minutes to the beach, Kipepeo Beach (it means butterfly). The water was soooo warm, the Indian Ocean is absolutely beautiful. Christen pleasantly pointed out that it was December 11th. Our return trip on the dalas was quite eventful. The first one wasnt bad, but the second one, oh goodness. There were so many people waiting. I was watching people get on another dala and I am surprised if someone wasnt punched or knocked out. We did the same, ran to our dala when it arrived and elbowed our way again onto the bus. We were squeezed and picked up more people on the way. I am going to borrow this from Christen, she said "you do not know whether it is your own sweat, the persons in front or behind you, to your right or left, above you or below you....literally." I was standing on this dala, over people and right up against others. Then the traffic came. I was too tall for the dala so I was bent down over some other people. No breeze, not moving, great. Finally we got off and found our last one. My legs were too long to fit behind the seat so i sat with them under my chin for the rest of the ride. The woman next to me was literally leaning on me, her arm was on top of mine we became close friends really quickly. All of this was definitely worth the day at the beach though. I am proud to say that since this first dala experience, I have become a novice on this kind of transportation. I now know how to elbow my way into a dala and how to try to make the best of the given situation. This is definitely an art that needs to be practiced.

Finally In Africa! Mambo!

2008-12-15T02:27:00.000-08:00

Karibuni! Vipi!

I decided to write this email at home so I could collect my thoughts instead of trying to remember everything when I get the chance to go to the high school to use the internet. So as I sit here at our kitchen table, looking out at a humungous palm tree with unripe coconuts, I will try my best to relay as much as I can of my experience and thoughts thus far.

I arrived late Friday night after flying 18 hours and stepping foot on 3 continents. My first thought: it is very hot here and it is midnight. My community mates, Caroline, Nicholas, and Kate, picked the four of us up (Christen and I will be staying in Dar and Mary Beth and Talia will be going up to Moshi in Northern Tanzania, near Mt Kilimanjaro). We took two taxis home - for 7 people and luggage for two years for four people. Caroline, Talia and I sat in the back of one of the taxis with two suitcases on our laps, needless to say the views were not too good. We quickly left the paved roads and started our journey on the dirt roads. I think I can say a good 50% of the time literally felt the ground underneath my feet - the roads here are so bad. Imagine the worst potholes and holes in the road and they are even worse here. 20 minutes later we got to our house. We have a gate around our house and a guard at night - Sitoti (he is Maasai!). Our house is very simple, we have a porch (my favorite place to sit), there is a common room, a tiny kitchen with a small two burner stove and a small cupboard and a small sink and a pantry. We each have our own rooms. The bathroom is also inside. The floors are made out of a clay-like material and re always dusty because everything here is dusty. The windows have bars and screens on them. We also have a fan in each room (God bless whoever invented the fan, we had a conversation recently about which invention was better, the wheel or the fan. The fan won). Our community moved into this house a few months ago and the woman who lived here before ran a duka (a store) out of one of the outside rooms (now Nicholas' room, and kept cows in the courtyard, right next to my room. We also have papaya trees in our courtyard and a banana tree grove next to our house. Our house has electricity most of the time. My second night here we came back to the house only to find there was no electricity. So we lit candles and sat around talking for a while. The power came on during the night. I originally thought we had running water, but I was wrong. We have a water tank in our courtyard where we fill up buckets of water and bring it in to wash hands, flush the toilet, wash dishes, et cetera. We are supposed to have running water but the pressure is never high enough to go through the pipes so we just have to stick with bucket showers. Our beds and couches are made with thick pieces of foam, I am slowly getting used to everything here. We have mosquito nets over our beds, somewhat tedious because we have to tuck and untuck it every night. I think thats good for a description of where I am living.

I want to fill you in on some of the things I have been doing. Our first full day we spent walking around Mabibo, where I am living and meeting some people (quite interesting because nobody speaks English and I do not speak Swahili). Getting to see the area was very eye-opening. I had woken up that morning to a rooster crowing and was very confused. That was cleared up when we saw chickens and roosters literally everywhere and realized that it was normal. Today I also heard the cow for the first time, but there are a lot of animals around here. The roads and footpaths are filled with garbage. There is no place to throw things away, so most people either dump it on the street or burn it. It is culturally expected to greet everyone you see. So with the little Swahili I know, I can say hello! We went out to dinner that night and I tried rice and chipate - a pancake-type thing. African food is not that bad!

On Sunday we went to Mass at our parish, St. John the Baptist, in Swahili. I picked up one word - Amina (Amen)! The Mass lasted almost two hours; the music was beautiful - so lively and passionate. After Mass Nicholas and I walked over to see Gonzaga, the school that I am teaching at. The school is really simple, but adequate. It was built one year ago and it educates a lot of orphans and poorer kids from the neighborhood. Later that afternoon we were sitting in the common room and Nicholas calmly walked in and said "So we are going to take some buckets of water over to our neighbors house, it is on fire." So we all jumped up and thats what we did! They were having a party when the fire started and continued the party when it was put out!

Monday was a great day, in the morning we walked about 2 kilometers to a town called Mburahati, where the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa's Sisters) have an orphanage and home for the elderly and mentally handicapped. Talk about a quick introduction to the societal issues of Tanzania! We walked down the road it was on and we came to this huge group of people waiting for distribution of clothes and other things. I had a strange feeling as we were walking in. This was the first time that my skin color really became apparent to me. Here I am, coming from the wealthiest country in the world to come of the poorest, I am Caucasian and these people are African. I have so many privileges that they do not, even based on my skin color. It is such a privilege to be able to take two years and move to another country and work there. I do not have to worry about working and making money to help me family, I do not have any dependents. I am so blessed. We arrived in the childrens section where we stayed with the 1-2 year olds for a few hours. One little boy climbed up onto my lap not long after we got there and fell asleep in my arms. I woke him up for lunch but he cried whenever I left him. These children were so precious. I only hope that they will get adopted by a family who will be able to take good care of them. We walked back at noon, and let me tell you, the equatorial sun can be brutal. Later we had our first Swahili lesson. I am slowly starting o recognize little things, but in order to communicate with anybody I will have to become fluent. We have gone to dinner at friends houses last Monday and Tuesday and tried a lot of different African food: cassava, cassava leaves, pilau (spiced rice), chapate, beans, baked bananas, et cetera. Last Monday night we went to Mama Davy’s sisters house to greet her and her baby and we sat outside on a very busy street drinking local beer and trying to communicate with the family. It was actually a very fun night because we met a lot of people and got to experience a lot of local things.

I apologize for writing so much but there is a lot that I want to share with you all! For those of you who made it to the end, thank you! I hope you can now get a tiny glimpse into my life in Africa so far. I will be going on retreat on Friday the 19th and will return a few days after Christmas. We are also going to Moshi to help our other community set up. I hope things are going well at home, pleas keep me updated on your lives!! Thank you for all of your support and prayers, you are all in mine as well. God is so good!

Kwa Heri,

Emilia

Set The World On Fire

2008-08-17T17:39:00.000-07:00

"I want to choose what leads to the deepening of Gods life in me." I wrote this down in my journal during JVI Orientation a few weeks ago. Those two weeks in Cleveland were exactly what I needed in order to stay strong during this waiting period. I found out I was going to Africa in April and I still have three more months to go before I actually get there. Graduating from college, saying goodbye to friends and family, and moving back home all brought their own bittersweet extras. I know that I am ready for this next step in my life, it has been waiting to happen for a very long time.

I have so much that I want to say, and I have never blogged before so I don't really know how this is all going to work out. I apologize if I end up writing too much, but there is so much to say about all my experiences! I spent two weeks in Cleveland at the JVI Orientation, met all of the other volunteers in my class and now we are literally all over the world. The volunteers going to Micronesia, Marshall Islands, and Belize left for their countries right after Orientation and Tanzania, Nepal, Peru, and Nicaragua are waiting until at least November to go to our countries. I leave December 1st or 2nd for Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania and I cannot be more excited!

Part of my preparation has been stocking up on music to put on my ipod. So call me a dork, whatever, but many of my purchases have been Christian CDs. I wanted to bring a lot of this kind of music because music has been my main form of prayer and the best way I can connect with God, music is essential to my life. Anyways, one of the songs on the CD had EMILY written alllllll over it. So here are the lyrics:

I want to set the world on fire
Until it`s burning bright for You
It`s everything that I desire
Can I be the one You use?

I, I am small but
You, You are big enough
I, I am weak but
You, You are strong enough to
Take my dreams
Come and give them wings
Lord with You
There`s nothing I can not do
Nothing I cannot do

I wanna feed the hungry children
And reach across the farthest land
And tell the broken there is healing
And mercy in the Father`s hands

My hands my feet
My everything
My life, my love
Lord, use me

I wanna set the world on fire
I wanna set the world on fire, yeah
I`m gonna set the world on fire
Set the world on fire

-Britt Nicole "Set the World on Fire"

This song is my heart. I want to set the world on fire, I want to give my love to everyone I meet, I want to use all of the gifts and talents that God has given me and use them to the best of my ability to pour myself out to the people I will meet. This is what I have wanted to do ever since I went to Jamaica that first time. I know I have said it so many times that it has probably become boring to hear, but that experience really changed my life. Without Jamaica who knows where I would be right now, I would probably not be moving halfway across the world and giving my life for two years to do service. I know that I am incredibly passionate about this, this is exactly where I am supposed to be in my life. I realized that at Orientation. I had an "ah-hah" moment when I became really comfortable and reassured that this is exactly, no doubt about it, 100% where I am supposed to be right now. I cannot imagine myself doing anything differently. Orientation gave more life to that flame in my heart, the passion and desire to do service and work with the poor. Being with people who understand why we are doing this, who want to work for justice and peace, and who are giving up and receiving the same things as I am, was amazing. It is very easy to get wrapped up in the whole material preparations, how much sunscreen do I need, is this skirt long enough, I need to pack for two years, etc. Remembering the real reasons and the most important parts about preparation can be difficult. The whole two weeks of Orientation we talked about social justice, spirituality, community, and simple living and it brought me back down and reminded me what sparked my desire to do this in the first place.

I look at this experience not just as my desire to do service internationally, but it is so much more. This is my vocation, it is my calling. All of last year when I was discerning a year or two of service and applying for different programs (God bless you all who had to deal with me during that time), I kept on saying that I am ready to take the next step. As a Theology and Social Work major I had studying social justice and my faith for the past four years. I knew a lot about these things and knew how they manifested themselves in my life. My faith has always been important to me and I consider myself a strong woman of faith, but I knew that I needed to move on and take the next step. I didn't really have a choice because graduation was coming whether I liked it or not and I had to leave CUA. I looked at service as that next step. It was something that I felt drawn to, it was something I was passionate about and was something that I knew I had to do because if I didn't I knew I would regret it. This was the obvious next step for me. I make it seem like this was all seamless and just fell into place, haha yeah right. But we will leave all those details for another time.

I think this blog is long enough, there will be plenty more to come because I have so much that I want to tell everybody that has supported me and continue to support me. Please keep all of the volunteers and the people they meet in your prayers, without prayers our work would be so much more difficult. It is only through the grace of God that we are able to give ourselves completely for these next two years and live the Gospel.

I want to choose what leads to the deepening of God's life in me. I have already experienced this a little, I have felt God in my life in a different way than ever before. What person in their right mind would chose to leave family and friends behind and go live among the poor without hot water, without stable electricity, without knowing the language, the customs, the people? I cannot do this on my own, this has not been simply a decision that I made on a whim, but something that has been forming in my heart for a very long time. This experience is leading me to surrender myself even more to God's will, to trust Him completely that He will take care of me and give me the graces I need to work through the hard times, to recognize the joyous times, and to find things out for myself. My answering this call feels so right, it is God working in my life, working in me, small and broken that I am, to live as an example for others and to work for justice. I have no choice in this calling but to let God in more, no person can do this on their own. This is why your prayers and support means more to me than anything.

I found a book of African prayers, so I want to finish this post with one (it says Various African Blessing):

"May God do with you! Go Nicely: may your path be swept of danger. God go with you, and may you escape from the mishaps ahead! May you go with God! Let God bear you in peace like a young shoot! May you meet with the Kindly Disposed One! May God take care of you! May God walk you well! May you pass the night with God! May God be with you who remain behind! May you stay with God!"

" Paschaltide" - Alla Renee Bozarth

2008-06-18T06:20:00.000-07:00

Pack nothing. Bring only your determination to serve and your willingness to be free. Don't wait for the bread to ride. Take nourishment for the journey, but eat standing, be ready to move at a moment's notice.

Do not hesitate to leave your old ways behind - fear, silence, submission. Only surrender to the need of te time - to love justice and walk humbly with your God.

Begin quickly, before you have time to sink back into old slavery. Set out in the dark. I will send fire to warm and encourage you. I will be with you in the fire and I will be with you in the cloud.

I will give you dreams in the desert to guide you safely home to that place you have not yet seen...I am sending you into the wilderness to make a new way and to learn my ways more deeply.

Some of you will be so changed by weathers and wanderings that even your closest friends will have to learn your features as though for the first time. Some of you will not change at all.

Some will be abandoned by your dearest loves and misunderstood by those who have known you since birth and feel abandoned by you. Some will find new friendship in unlikely faces, and old friends as faithful, and true as the pillar of God's flame. Sing songs as you go, and hold close together. You may at times grow confused and lose your way...touch each other and keep telling stories...make maps as you go, remembering the way back from before you were born...

So you will be only the first of many waves of deliverance on these desert seas.

It is the first of many beginnings - your Paschaltide.

Remain true to this mystery.

Pass on the whole story...do not go back. I am with you now and I am waiting for you.

- Alla Renee Bozarth