first group email- sent September 16

Hujambo?!
I know some of you may have already heard from me, or some of you don't even know, regardless, I am happy to report that I am alive and thriving in a village in Tanzania. I find it hard to begin this, therefore I shall start from the beginning.
Twenty four hours of flying began my journey and upon arriving at the Kenya airport, I still had not felt any real culture shock, partly because I ran into someone who I worked with at the Rec Center in college. However, it didnt take long for the initial shock to hit me, for when stepping out of the airport at ten o' clock at night, you are mobbed by Africans trying to get you in their taxi. Luckily for me, Howard Goldfield, a friend of my mother's from college, swooped in to help me with my bags and whisk me away in his protective SUV. The drive at night kind of scared me, and I thought I would warm up to the surroundings in the morning, however, it really wasn't that easy especially considering the police with machine guns on every corner seemed to scare me a bit at first. Kenya, however is extraordinarily beautiful with fruits and flowers speckling the landscape, and Howard's home and family were beyond lovely and gracious, so feeling comfortable was a pleasure.
After a wonderful two day tour of Kenya, petting giraffes and going to the elephant orphanage, it was time to set me on my flight to Tanzania. Everything is much different here, difficult to explain, but it seems much more chaotic here. One has to be on guard at all times, and become accustomed to really no rules, like smoking and not really any security in the airport. Nonetheless, I boarded the small 24 passenger rickety plane out on the runway, and after a short plane ride I was descending into the airport while passing Mount Kilimanjaro at sunset, landing on the runway and walking out into the crisp night air relishing in the colors of the sun plummeting behind Kilimanjaro. Feeling confident I went in, with my visa, got my luggage, and met the van and four other older women volunteers from the U.K. for a bumpy hour ride into the village I was to be living in. The moment upon arrival, my confidence quickly vanished, and anxiety and fear overtook my entire sensation. I walked around getting the tour with tears in my eyes, asking myself, "what was I thinking going to Africa for two months to live in a bunk bed in some rural village with complete strangers?!" After a hot shower, and some introductions I crawled into my top bunk and began to write in my journal. It was at that point that I realized that it wasn't about me, I wasn't here for "me." I was there to volunteer, and an uncomfortable shock to living in the compound would eventually start to cease.
Getting use to my community of other volunteers didn't take long. I adored my three roomates(with perhaps one exception), the food was edible, the roosters crowing all night were ok with my earplugs, and the banana and mango trees in our yard were lovely surroundings.
We did some cultural tours, like going to the town we live outside of, called Moshi- which is where I am right now in an internet cafe- met the village chief, went to the market, and became friends with all of the children, who are so eager to talk/touch/smile/wave/high-five you. After days of orientation I finally began my job.
I am working for a local NGO called KIWODEA, which stands for Kilimanjaro Women's Development Association. It is a group of thirty five disadvantaged women whose main goals are environmentalreform and reduction of poverty in the community. My roomate, Kelly- who is in her late thirties and has been in marketing for 13 years in Boston- and I showed up with buisness plans to teach these women to market themselves well, how to increase their income, and any other Western ideas we could implement to help them. Well, we showed up, in our long skirts and cardigans to what seemed like a vacant sirty building without electricity or running water. Turns out, they really dont have many plans, someof them don't even work, and they really couldnt communicate to us in my struggling swahili what it is that we could do for them. The next day we went in with a translator, and tried to figure out what we could do to help. They have recieved a grant from the United Nations for beekeeping and souvenir-making training and supplies to help them start up sustainable buisnesses. Well, they dont knw when they will be getting the beehives(any day now, they say) and the cards that they make out of banana leaves are just sitting around with the adorable childrens clothes that they have made getting dirty. There is comething called TFT which stands for Tanzanian Felexible Time, which basically means, everything will happen when it happens, no hurry, no real motivation to do anything in a timely manner, and you're not late, you're just "delayed." Needless to say, it has been a nightmare attempting to organize these projects and help get the women started. However, slowly bu surely we are beginning to attempt to make more childrens clothes and try to get vendors in town to sell them. Unfortunately, I don't have time to go into detail about our project, but next email, I will have an update on the progress of KIWODEA. ALso, I forgot to mention that in this empty barn-like building are twentyfive 3-5 yr olds who come for "school" in the morning. The first day we walked into the dark dusty room to huge smiles and waves from their desks, as they resited in unison "good morning teacher." Kelly and I hadn't planned on teaching children, but we got up to the front of the classroom and attemptedto teach them "row row row your boat," and it was semi-successful. Today we bought supplies to help decorate the room with colorful letters and numbers, and books to help teach the women and children english.
The weekend rolled around, and thirteen of us decided to go on a safari trip out to the ngorogoro crater and lake manyara. After a quick camel ride at sunset on friday night, we went to visit a real Massai tribal village, and herded the cattle in at night for milking and visited the huts where families of up to ten can easily share two bed type things, a fire pit, five chickens, a dog, and the cows if they are young. The mother was nursing her newborn baby, and with a translator we were able to learn all about the Massai lifestyle, which is beyond interesting. Dinner, then off to our tent which was set up next to a nice pool so we sat outside having some Kilimanjaro's which is the beer we like here, and then to bed for an early rise to the National Parks. The experience of driving around vast land in Africa with binoculars spotting lions, zebras, wildebeests, giraffes, elephants, baboons, flamingoes, etcectera, could easily take anotherpage, however hopefully if I am ever able to send photoes you will get a teaste of what our adventure held for my friends and I. Oh, and yes- there were hippoes too!
Sunday afternoon we made the drive back to Moshi in our large LandRovers, cruising through the countryside as I finished Gilbert Tuhabonye's book, This Voice in My Heart. Passing the banana trees and villages that he desricbed so well, it was a surreal experience, especially because as some of you know, he is a good friend of our family. His book is about his survival of the Burundi genocide and his escape to the United States. Making the experience even more surreal, was that we were passing through Arusha which is the town where the UN tribunal court sessions concerning the genocide in Rawanda are being held currently.
So, this is just a taste of my life in Africa, hope all you are doing well, I send my love to all. Email is scarce for me, however, I would love to hear from everyone! While I am nowhere near experiencing anything as profound nor provide the wisdom that Gilbert was able to, I knew that while barreling through the countryside of Africa, passing the mama's transporting bananas on their head, and the children smiling, waving, and chasing our truck, that there was this voice in my heart telling me that I am supposed to be here.
Thank you to Gilbert for inspiration, and to the rest of you for support.
Salama(peace) -Meredith

Getting Started....

Moving to Africa... When I told my father that this time in my life seems surreal, he said it seems "real." Never can seem to agree on too much these days, so which is it? Surreal or Real? Part of my adventures in life these days, are a strong attempt to live in the moment. However, if I view this upcoming endeavor as surreal, then I am seemingly not living in the moment. Therefore I must embrace this time, embrace these last two days in the states, and embrace my decision to travel to a developing nation to volunteer. So, here I am, twenty two years old, graduated from college, and packing my hiking backpack. No looking back now, only watching my current moments, my current steps. Life is no longer surreal. It is a diving board of adventures, and I am about to submerge myself! I hope to keep my friends and family(y'all) updated through this blog, with my stories and pictures. In advance, please pardon the grammatical errors and comments that may show my inner weaknesses, but most of all, thank you for letting me share these thoughts with you all....