Refelctions on Africa

I've been back for about a week now, which is just so weird to think about. I was relieved to come home, and happy to see my family. But it's hard to think of the family I left behind. i really did have a home there, and always will, and i felt like i belonged there, that i was one of them. as much as i hated being called "mzungu," it's what i thought when i saw white people, as though they were something different from me. readjustment has been much "smoother" than i expected. not as much reverse culture shock as i anticipated. there's still some of it there for sure, and i have moments in time, especially when im with groups of people, where i totally zone out and place myself back in tanzania. its hard, because it seems like so many things here are so trivial in comparison to the lives led in tanzania. but i also knew that i would feel that way, so i think i had really prepared myself mentally for the transition.

its definitely hard to be away from everyone, and not just because i had become so used to being with them, or because i loved their company, but also because im so disconnected from the everyday simplicities of their lives and even the big, monumental things of their lives. i worry that if something big happens there, no one will let me know. and thats hard. i dont think they would have contacted cassie when benny died, i think she only knew because i called her. and that worries me. what if something big like that happens and no one informs me. thats the hardest thing about being back. worrying. worrying about all the possibilities. life there is hard for them, and its full of pain and suffering and trials. and i hate being so far away from them all. i hate feeling like im not there to do all i can to fight for their well being. its heartbreaking, really. i called lusekelo this past weekend. ive mentioned him in the blog before, but he was by far my favorite person, the person i spent the most time with, and the person my heart became most connected and attached to. when i called, we were cut off, and were not able to get back in touch. but i was able to hear him say three words..."hello...i'm fine!" that was enough to make me cry. the sound of his voice brought so many emotions. i felt joy and excitement, i felt longing and heartache, i felt so very far away from him, but at the same time so close. i have tears in my eyes now as i write this. every time i drive my car, i wish that lusekelo was beside me, staring in awe at all the things around us, singing to me as he always did. he really wanted to go to school, but i worry he wont pursue that dream without me there to push and encourage him. i worry about my students. i worry about their futures. some of them completely lack motivation, and those who have motivation completely lack the means to pursue their dreams. its hard to be so far away and not know when i will go back. and then even if i go back, many of them may have moved on, and it may be hard to find them.

it was good to have some time this weekend with my friend mel who spent some time in kenya. she and i have very similar hearts, and we had very similar experiences in africa. sharing that with her was just really nice. it was good because she understood what i'd lived through, she understood how i felt, and she has a love for that place and those people as i do. of course, not everyone understands, or even CAN understand how it was to live there, how it was to watch people suffer, and as a result suffer with them. a couple of my friends were making "black" jokes a few nights ago. honestly, i think they were doing it on purpose because they knew i had just been living with "black people." i think in their own weird way they though they were connecting with me, or maybe they were even trying to rile me up because that wouldnt surprise me at all. but thats exactly what it did, rile me up. inside, i was angry, i was hurt, i was heartbroken. on the outside, i just shut down. i was quiet, i was clearly unhappy to be where i was. i mean, ive always hated racist jokes, but now my connection to "black people" is stronger and deeper than it ever was before. sure, the people here are not the same people i was with in tanzania, but they ARE connected. its amazing after spending time in africa how clearly i can see the culture which has been carried over and maintained through the african americans here. they are still very much "african." and for 3 months, so was i. those people were, and are, an irreplaceable piece of my heart and soul. i lived with them; i taught them; they taught me; i rode the bus with them; i cooked and ate with them; i watered crops with them; i sang with them; i prayed with them; i laughed with them; i cried with them; i watched them be beat by their mothers, fathers, husbands; i watched them die....i knew them, as though i always had. there are so many things about them that will forever be a mystery to me. i will never know all the stories behind the awful scars they carry. i will never know all the hurt they've endured. i loved many orphans, but i dont know what it was like for them to lose their parents. i dont know how it feels to be raped by someone who's supposed to protect me. i dont know what it feels like to find out i have AIDS. maybe i dont know all the details, but i know that the connection i felt with them, and that the love i have for them, is REAL and it is STRONG and it will last a LIFETIME.

there are so many things i miss about my life there. so many. i miss seeing the house girls every morning, and the way they always greeted me. i miss the way bibi called me "daughter" and babu called me "mama" (because his mother's name was also helen). i miss walking down the dusty road to school. i miss the small girl who said "shikamoo mzungu" to me every morning. i miss the way ngola always said "whats up?" i miss going to get chapati from mama sophie. i miss playing with donny, and how he cried and ran after me every time i left him. i miss seeing francis' HUGE heart and how he always gave his friends the cookies he bought at the school store. i miss allen's dimples, even though that kid drove me CRAZY. i miss how sharifah and sophia clung to me. i miss going to prayer/worship with my students, even though all it did was create a flood of tears in me. i miss the way lusekelo sang "kiss me through the phoooone", and how he rode the bus with me every time i needed to go to town. i miss the way iwe says "how are the things" and "lena, karibu chakula." i miss eating sweet popcorn with elly. i miss the way rama laughed every time he looked at me. i miss benny, period; i just miss him. i miss the small kids at ELA and how they played with my hair and touched my skin, and screamed with excitement every time they saw me. i even miss that rice, as much as i ate it. i miss the way albert and i communicated. i miss chai in the evenings with bibi and babu. i miss watching second chance. i miss catching shukuru staring at me every time i was in the staff room, haha. i miss so much. how could i ever write it all. i know, without a doubt, then when i go back, no matter when it may be, EVERYthing will be different there. it always is. every day changes so much. even though every day held exactly the same routine, things never were the same. life changing things happen everyday there, but you just carry on and live life normally, because thats all you can do, there is no other choice. you do what you have to in order to survive. no questions asked. looking back, hearing stories from other people, there was a day in tanzania when i really could have lost my life. in all seriousness, had the slightest thing gone differently in that situation, albert and i may have lost our lives. it feels surreal to say that, as though it couldnt have possibly happened. but the possibility of it happening, is just as real as me sitting here typing this. and thats why i worry. because the situation albert and i found ourselves in on that particular night, is the type of thing that tanzanians find themselves in every single day. something in me did change there, without a doubt. but somehow, i feel like a part of me resisted it all. and as much as that place stole my heart, there was a part of me that i refused to give. and i wanted to, and i wish i had, and even more so, i wish i COULD. but the piece of me that stayed untouched was the piece of me that has been numb for 2 years now. i wanted africa to consume that part of me. but i didnt let it. i know what im saying makes absolutely no sense, but i know what im talking about, and maybe thats all that matters.

Being there, in africa, in tanzania, was a crazy experience. it was hard, it was fun, it was scary, it was sad, it was exciting. i dont think its possible to understand it without going. and i hope you do. for your own sake, i hope you allow yourself to see what life is like there. and i hope that you can love, and be loved, in the way that i loved and was loved. its a beautiful place with beautiful people. there is pain, there is loss; but there is LOVE. and it leads to hope. and thats all they have. hope. they wouldnt survive otherwise.