This is the hardest entry to write. In part because now I am back to the craziness and hustle and bustle of daily life in America and in part because if I am to be honest I will sound negative, so I will start with something positive. Despite the fact that we live in an emotionally detached country that cares more about productivity than relationships, I was overwhelmed by the number of friends new and old and family members who wrote me notes beforehand to send good wishes and afterward to check on my safe return. So although we may use Facebook instead of a handshake or a hug, I know people out there love me and that connection is an invaluable part of every culture no matter how we express it.
When I returned to the States I thought I would be happy to be here and I would kiss the ground after landing on July 4. Paris was my first stop and the giant billboards of Cartier and Givenchy and all the other couture in the Charles De Gaulle airport were too much to bear. I slipped on my ipod and tried to drown out the distractions of grumpy people and security checkpoints. Then after landing in Norfolk I saw all the typical sights of a country filled with excess like this woman who was grossly overweight and wearing short white shorts and high-heels. Thank you for sharing your cellulite and veins with us — welcome to America the home of the free and the way too brave.
The first day or two back were a daze of eating normal food, drinking wine, getting back into my routine and generally being annoyed with Americans. Thankfully it seems like God always sends one person who gets it, a person who you don’t need to explain why you are feeling anti-American, while others just stare at you out of disbelief unable to relate. Like when you get upset at the waitress for throwing away your to-go box because you know there really are people starving in Africa. So when this woman came up to me at church last Sunday and asked if I was feeling anti-American I finally felt normal for having those feelings. Sometimes a connection with one person can make all the difference. And now back to reality. Thanks for sharing my journey with me.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Traveling Show
A lot of people have been asking if it was hot. Tanzania is below the equator and this was winter season so temperatures got up to the 70s some days and down to the 50s other. It was dry, perfect weather, but my African friends were freezing.
After leaving Longido I traveled to Moshi to send the last 5 days with Gina in the city where she lives. Here I spent Saturday shopping for gifts and drinking real coffee for the first time since I left. All the wonderful Tanzanian coffee gets shipped out thanks to the Tanzanian government officials who probably pocket all the profits. They have this coffee in a can called Africafe and yes it is about as good as Taster’s Choice instant.
We were supposed to go out to dinner the night before, but there was word that people had been robbed at local restaurants so we ordered Indian take out. There are many Indians in Tanzania so it is easy to find Indian cuisine in the larger cities. Saturday night we were brave and ventured to a local German restaurant that didn’t even serve German food but did have a large number of Indian dishes. I was up early Sunday to go on my two day safari — I thought I was going with a group of 80 experienced missionaries, but instead got stuck with 80 Pentecostals, many who were first time travelers, who had not seen any of the real life of Africa while on their mission trip. After I told them I was Presbyterian one lady even informed me that I was in the right jeep — i.e. I would finally get to experience the Holy Spirit. I guess you need to have some kind of emotional breakdown in order to experience the third person of the Trinity. All that being said it didn't turn out as badly as it could have. They did not lay hands on me.
Well, we made too many pit stops and ended up getting to Lake Manyara very late so we couldn’t enter. Instead we went to a preplanned tour of a Maasai village. Not what I signed up for. It was like going to the Colonial Williamsburg version of a village and I felt as if we were exploiting these people. In the end the women all brought out their jewelry to sell so I think they were the wiser as they charged exorbitant prices to these mzungus.
We then went on safari and I saw monkeys, giraffes and the backs of hippos in the hippo pool. That evening we went to the Ngorogoro Crater, which was magnificent. We stayed at the swanky Serena Lodge and I actually had two hot showers in less than 12 hours just because I could. Yeah for clean hair. At dinner I met a group of young people from Colorado, who were with the Pentecostal group and thankfully redeemed my experience with them. I wish I would have been asked which jeep I wanted to sit on---I would have chose Colorado over South Carolina any day of the week. Anyway we hung out by the fire pit in the lodge drinking the local brew and chatting.
I slept in the room with two complete strangers, which is always interesting. In the morning the crater glowed orange and we could see little dark specs moving about on its surface. At first when we entered the crater the novelty of all the animals made us want to stop the jeep every 5 feet. My meek and gracious fellow travelers kept yelling "stop" or "go" louder and louder as if decibel levels affected our driver’s ability to understand English. I quickly memorized the Swahili words for “please”(tafadahli) and “stop” (simama) and “let’s go” (twende) so that I could at least try to create a rapport with the driver.
It was a great day of watching zebras, wildebeests, water buffalo, various antelope, and of course a pride of lions that were trying to make a kill and may have been successful sometime after we left. But my biggest joy was seeing the bull elephant with his magnificent tusks. We only saw him at the very end and I would have been sorely disappointed to miss seeing an elephant as that is one of the main reasons I went on safari.
On Tuesday Gina and I went to visit two orphanages in the afternoon. It was great to see the love the workers had for these children — some who had been abandoned by their parents. One child was there because his father killed his mother. The first place, Kili Kids was run by a single African woman named Margaret — she was the woman who arranged my safari as well. Here I brought out my bubbles and began to play with the kids. One girl latched on to me as soon as I came and would not let go. We toured the facility, which was clean and simple. There was laundry going around the clock and a woman who cleaned twice a day. The kids even had two indoor bathrooms to use. But the second place was even more impressive. An American church ran it and there was a huge playground, a schoolroom with DVD access, where Veggie Tales intoxicated the children when I arrived. They also had much-coveted air conditioning.
The following day was my last and so Gina and I and two other missionaries hiked the first level of Mt. Kilimanjaro, which was mostly rain forest. The mist felt great on my face as we hiked and I think I got the bug to try to make it to the top. Towards the last part my companions had fallen behind and I trudged ahead with a little German boy — he asked his mother something and she laughed and translated. It seems as if he didn’t know there were white people in America because all he has seen is rap videos. I am not sure if that says something about his mother or about us. In a weird twist our taxi driver the day before didn’t know there were any black people in America.
On Thursday Gina and I awoke very early to take shuttle to Arusha so that Steven could drive us to the airport. I enjoyed my last cup of bad coffee at a place called Bamboo Hut and then we were on our way. The most special part of the day was stopping at Longido because the staff at LOOCIP had prepared a going away party for me. I was touched and felt really embarrassed because I did not need all that attention. The people there are wonderful and will always hold a place in my heart. I hope I can return again to help in any way I am able. In the meantime I am working on getting their brochure printed in the States and if any of you have an old Mac laptop you can donate please, please let me know. I want to direct you to the Web site, which should be launched soon at www.loocip.org. Please visit the site. Do you know that between $200-$400 a year can send a child to primary and secondary school in Longido. My one African friend had a sponsor from first grade through college — some guy in Minnesota she never met who made a lifelong commitment to this young woman who is flourishing now.
As I said before, you never know who you will be transporting when you travel in Tanzania. So when we left Longido we brought parents and their children to a home for disabled children. This was a heart-breaking experience and filled with emotion for me, especially since this was the end of our trip. The Maasai ostracize the disabled so the most important aspect of this place was that children were treated and then assimilated back into a normal school so that the other children would become accustomed at a early age at interacting with those with physical disabilities. The man who ran it was Maasai and overcame his disability to become leader of this organization. He was impressive as were the men who fashioned “off-road” wheelchairs out of bicycles. Although it may not have been as modern as what we would have, it goes to show that human ingenuity will find a way to make limbs and equipment to create a better life for these kids.
After leaving Longido I traveled to Moshi to send the last 5 days with Gina in the city where she lives. Here I spent Saturday shopping for gifts and drinking real coffee for the first time since I left. All the wonderful Tanzanian coffee gets shipped out thanks to the Tanzanian government officials who probably pocket all the profits. They have this coffee in a can called Africafe and yes it is about as good as Taster’s Choice instant.
We were supposed to go out to dinner the night before, but there was word that people had been robbed at local restaurants so we ordered Indian take out. There are many Indians in Tanzania so it is easy to find Indian cuisine in the larger cities. Saturday night we were brave and ventured to a local German restaurant that didn’t even serve German food but did have a large number of Indian dishes. I was up early Sunday to go on my two day safari — I thought I was going with a group of 80 experienced missionaries, but instead got stuck with 80 Pentecostals, many who were first time travelers, who had not seen any of the real life of Africa while on their mission trip. After I told them I was Presbyterian one lady even informed me that I was in the right jeep — i.e. I would finally get to experience the Holy Spirit. I guess you need to have some kind of emotional breakdown in order to experience the third person of the Trinity. All that being said it didn't turn out as badly as it could have. They did not lay hands on me.
Well, we made too many pit stops and ended up getting to Lake Manyara very late so we couldn’t enter. Instead we went to a preplanned tour of a Maasai village. Not what I signed up for. It was like going to the Colonial Williamsburg version of a village and I felt as if we were exploiting these people. In the end the women all brought out their jewelry to sell so I think they were the wiser as they charged exorbitant prices to these mzungus.
We then went on safari and I saw monkeys, giraffes and the backs of hippos in the hippo pool. That evening we went to the Ngorogoro Crater, which was magnificent. We stayed at the swanky Serena Lodge and I actually had two hot showers in less than 12 hours just because I could. Yeah for clean hair. At dinner I met a group of young people from Colorado, who were with the Pentecostal group and thankfully redeemed my experience with them. I wish I would have been asked which jeep I wanted to sit on---I would have chose Colorado over South Carolina any day of the week. Anyway we hung out by the fire pit in the lodge drinking the local brew and chatting.
I slept in the room with two complete strangers, which is always interesting. In the morning the crater glowed orange and we could see little dark specs moving about on its surface. At first when we entered the crater the novelty of all the animals made us want to stop the jeep every 5 feet. My meek and gracious fellow travelers kept yelling "stop" or "go" louder and louder as if decibel levels affected our driver’s ability to understand English. I quickly memorized the Swahili words for “please”(tafadahli) and “stop” (simama) and “let’s go” (twende) so that I could at least try to create a rapport with the driver.
It was a great day of watching zebras, wildebeests, water buffalo, various antelope, and of course a pride of lions that were trying to make a kill and may have been successful sometime after we left. But my biggest joy was seeing the bull elephant with his magnificent tusks. We only saw him at the very end and I would have been sorely disappointed to miss seeing an elephant as that is one of the main reasons I went on safari.
On Tuesday Gina and I went to visit two orphanages in the afternoon. It was great to see the love the workers had for these children — some who had been abandoned by their parents. One child was there because his father killed his mother. The first place, Kili Kids was run by a single African woman named Margaret — she was the woman who arranged my safari as well. Here I brought out my bubbles and began to play with the kids. One girl latched on to me as soon as I came and would not let go. We toured the facility, which was clean and simple. There was laundry going around the clock and a woman who cleaned twice a day. The kids even had two indoor bathrooms to use. But the second place was even more impressive. An American church ran it and there was a huge playground, a schoolroom with DVD access, where Veggie Tales intoxicated the children when I arrived. They also had much-coveted air conditioning.
The following day was my last and so Gina and I and two other missionaries hiked the first level of Mt. Kilimanjaro, which was mostly rain forest. The mist felt great on my face as we hiked and I think I got the bug to try to make it to the top. Towards the last part my companions had fallen behind and I trudged ahead with a little German boy — he asked his mother something and she laughed and translated. It seems as if he didn’t know there were white people in America because all he has seen is rap videos. I am not sure if that says something about his mother or about us. In a weird twist our taxi driver the day before didn’t know there were any black people in America.
On Thursday Gina and I awoke very early to take shuttle to Arusha so that Steven could drive us to the airport. I enjoyed my last cup of bad coffee at a place called Bamboo Hut and then we were on our way. The most special part of the day was stopping at Longido because the staff at LOOCIP had prepared a going away party for me. I was touched and felt really embarrassed because I did not need all that attention. The people there are wonderful and will always hold a place in my heart. I hope I can return again to help in any way I am able. In the meantime I am working on getting their brochure printed in the States and if any of you have an old Mac laptop you can donate please, please let me know. I want to direct you to the Web site, which should be launched soon at www.loocip.org. Please visit the site. Do you know that between $200-$400 a year can send a child to primary and secondary school in Longido. My one African friend had a sponsor from first grade through college — some guy in Minnesota she never met who made a lifelong commitment to this young woman who is flourishing now.
As I said before, you never know who you will be transporting when you travel in Tanzania. So when we left Longido we brought parents and their children to a home for disabled children. This was a heart-breaking experience and filled with emotion for me, especially since this was the end of our trip. The Maasai ostracize the disabled so the most important aspect of this place was that children were treated and then assimilated back into a normal school so that the other children would become accustomed at a early age at interacting with those with physical disabilities. The man who ran it was Maasai and overcame his disability to become leader of this organization. He was impressive as were the men who fashioned “off-road” wheelchairs out of bicycles. Although it may not have been as modern as what we would have, it goes to show that human ingenuity will find a way to make limbs and equipment to create a better life for these kids.
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