In Thanksgiving....

This began in Heathrow Airport, and I finally got back to it tonight....
Well, I did it. I did many things. I made it out of Africa safe and unharmed, I gained extra body parts from the carbohydrates and hydrogenated oils that consume an Africans diet, and I also put on one of the first fashion shows that Tanzanians have ever seen outside of television. It has been a journey that will always be held dearly in my heart, and will consume many thoughts of contemplation long after its days are completed. I have been struggling to find the words to sum up my experience. There are many more stories to share, however, perhaps they will not be shared right away. As there are many moments in life to pass along my experiences.
After a couple days of traveling through Nairobi, and after spending several hours perusing London’s duty free amusement park of goodies, and after many long uncomfortable flights, the words in order to articulate my trip are yet to come to me. Maybe it’s because the luxurious mani/pedi I received in Nairobi, or perhaps it is the hours of perfume testing I just endured that has killed many brain cells, whatever the case may be, it’s difficult to tap into what has just happened in the last two months. When exploring the memories, part of me feels robbed of the potential to make more memories. I think I really wish I could have stayed longer. The friendships I made seem as though they were stripped brutally off of me, because of my deadline for departure. I feel such strong emotions about this because I owe a lot of my success and happiness in Africa to the wonderful women I was able to work and live with. More particularly, to Clara my closest local friend, my ever incredible “pundas” who shared a room with me at the end of the trip, Gemma, Kate, and Bronwyn, a charming couple named Peter and Tara, and of course the strong willed, ever-determined women of KIWODEA. Without all of these influential people my experience in Africa would have been greatly altered. In looking back on the trip, I suppose, as I have just shown, that my first response to it is overall gratitude. I am overwhelmed with appreciation for the whole experience altogether. However, as with many things in life, this trip only came together in the unbelievable fashion that it did, due to the people who helped me achieve it in all ways from financially to just simply providing love, smiles, and inspiration. This trip has been so much about the people in ones life. I would like to carry on for pages of thanks to all the people for providing me with this experience, from the Goldfield’s for housing me for several nights in Nairobi, to people like Oliva and Catherine whose smiles, hand holding, and whines of emotion were reassuring to hear because it was the only language that we could all understand, and to most importantly- not that there is an order, but truly without them there is no possible way I would have endured such an incredible experience- my parents. Thank you for helping me go the whole way, for being my biggest admirers, for believing in me, and for enlisting such breathtaking motivation into me as you followed and pushed me with every step of the way.
Like many life formative experiences, I will be looking back on these months in Africa in great contemplation. I traveled to many destinations in East Africa while I was there, but in addition to the people I met along the way, and the travels that will forever fill my memory book, and the work I endured in hopes of improving lives, I think that what it all comes down to are the lessons I have learned.
They are not straightforward, more like simplistic observations. I learned from the Tanzanian children who would greet us daily outside of our compound and chase our cars, waving and smiling with their perfectly round symmetrical faces and tiny innocent hands extended by malnourished arms as their soft fingers extended love and adoration to those of us who extended ours in return. These pure hearts of virtuousness that is exhibited by the small ones of Tanzania taught me gratitude and compassion. My resistance to the snotty noses and impoverished living conditions taught me tolerance and adaptability. The bizarrely slow and frustrating way business is run in another country has taught me patience and forgiveness. Even when people on the same deadline and goals as me took days to get anything accomplished, I was forced to accept the way another culture gets things done. The incredibly bumpy roads, lack of transportation, and somewhat less than inhabitable living conditions, have given me perspective on the simple luxuries that our country possesses. The way that Tanzanians welcome you time and time again into their homes and hearts has helped me to open my heart to others and to myself. The fear that plagued my utter existence in the first weeks of gut-wrenching culture shock has taught me to not take myself so seriously. The ignorance I once possessed has now provided me with a welcoming heart.
In Africa or in any remote place of this sort, where there is plenty of time for your mind to wander and your heart to peruse its eternal existence, you learn a lot about yourself. Most importantly, you learn to be comfortable with yourself, I got glimpses of what it means to really truly love yourself. Walking in to the compound where I lived, it seemed as though an entire layer of skin was melting off of me. More like singeing off of me, because what I saw and felt was so painful. It was not the poverty of Africa, as one may think from that statement, it was the panic that suddenly crept up on me like a ghost in the night. I asked myself over and over again, “what was I thinking when I signed up to live with four women in a room smaller than a dormroom in Africa for two months without immediate communication to the outside world?” I was lonely and scared, the pain gripped my stomach into knots squeezing tears out of my eyes as my face lost all color. I panicked, I cried, and I kept asking myself “why,” as if someone or something had died. It was in the bathroom that night with my mind and spirit tangled in horrific fear, when I realized that I wasn’t there for myself. The communication with familiarity that I so longed for was no longer there, it was just me. I answered my questions, I remembered “why” I was there: I was there to volunteer. I was there to be there for others, to help others, and all I really had to offer was myself. So, with my mind, body, and spirit finally coordinating I pulled myself into my bunk bed having gathered one of the greatest lessons in life. Tucking my mosquito net in that first night, I realized that I was going to be ok, and that I was going to be able to help. And that’s exactly what I did. I helped others, and they helped me. And for one of the first times in my life, a fog began to lift, and I felt sound and stable, in my own body, in my own mind.
The last week that I was there was the accumulation of all my work at KIWODEA with the women. We successfully put on a “fashion show” in the dirt yard at the KIWODEA building. There was a donation made for the kids of a local orphanage to have clothes made for them by the women of KIWODEA. So, in order to provide awareness and support of these two organizations, I put together this little publicity event for them. The orphans modeled the clothes on a batik runway, with African drumming, the sun setting behind Kilimanjaro, and the neighborhood and volunteers all joined us in dancing, singing, drinking banana wine in celebration of the launch of the clothing lines. There was about 150 people there, the women were able to sell their goods, and they made local foods for all the guests. It was a blast, everyone laughed, danced, cried, and took lots of pictures- hopefully I can share some soon!
The last week of my time was filled with excitement, sadness, and remembrance. I wanted to soak in every detail. Never shying away from putting my head out of the window while cruising at high speeds through the hilly countryside of Africa. There was something so freeing about those moments. Taking in all the smells, the warm African sun, and the simple joys that surrounded my life. I realized while I was there, that a place so poverty stricken, doesn't have to be sad. In fact it probably- no definitely- possessed some of my happiest moments thus far in my life. You realize that while everyone is seemingly living in shambles, unable to afford the simple things that we as Americans tend to take advantage of. Rather, this is their life, with the exception of the occasional TV, the people who inhabit such beautifully ancient earth have become one with their surroundings. For those who do not dwell on the poverty, there is a life that exceeds it all
In the end I have come away with so much gratitude and so much growth. I would like to depart with one last story. This is a story about a man named Peter, and his wife Tara. Peter volunteered almost two years ago at an orphanage in Moshi. This particular orphanage, “Upendo” which means something to the extent of “love” in Swahili(they actually don’t have a word that directly translates to love in Kiswahili.) Well, Peter had an immediate connection with a little girl at the orphanage, then learned she had a twin sister, he took these girls in giving them the attention they needed. Side note- this particular orphanage is one of the more impoverished- the children there eat dirt because their bodies are so malnourished. Long story short, Peter called his wife back in the states, and proposed that they adopt the girls, who are about two years old named Sevorina and Senorina. One long grueling year later, about five trips to Africa, an expensive lawyer, and a lot of pain and happiness later, the judge has finally granted them the chance to take the girls home to the states! I met Peter on Tara the day of the fashion show because they had just flown in for the final hearing from the Moshi judge, and I had the twins modeling a line of clothing in the show. They helped me prepare for the event all day. Even helping me to bring all the rented chairs to the site. We didn’t have a car, so we stacked about four plastic chairs on our heads like the Africans do, and walked almost a mile in midday African sun in our conservative clothing, just like the people of the culture that we were living in. It was myself, and some of my closest friends, all women, all different ages, local and foreign—and Peter and Tara. In those trips back and forth with the chairs on our head Tara talked to me about how difficult the process has been to adopt the girls. They have been through hell and back with the process- Madonna not having helped it with her little stunt in Malawi. Peter was to stay longer than her to finalize the process, she is a pediatrician in North Carolina, and they have two boys at home. Learning from this strong couple, Tara told me of her Christmas wish. She described the vision she held of her Christmas present. It was of the twin girls getting off the flight with Peter holding their little hands, and herself waiting there with their two boys, and to finally have the family united in the holiday season.
It is this vision of a family finally being brought together in a happy loving home, that I have left with. My mother often tells me that there is no stronger love, than the love for your family. It may have taken me to fly across the planet to figure out some minor life lessons, but in these past few months I have come away with gratitude, growth, and most importantly love. Not just with the people of Africa. But, What it all comes down to is, I have fallen in love with the world. For now, this is my story. These are some of my stories, thank you for listening, and I invite you to love the way that I did. Some days its hard to remember these lessons, but as I bring myself back, I sit simply. Smiling to myself having been shown one of the greatest gifts in life. Thank you for all of you who have helped provide me with this experience. Thank you.