8.22.2005
Last Days in Tanzania
Originally sent August 15, 2005. This is the eighth of 8 mass emails I sent while living in Tanzania.
Greetings again and welcome to the Emily Travelogue. This email comes to you not from the internet cafe slash hair salon, nor the expat fast food hangout, nor the rickety, dark and funny-smelling secretarial bureau at Arusha's busiest intersection. It comes from my basement, in my house, in the town I grew up in. Three weeks ago, my replacement arrived in Tanzania. He was fresh from Ireland and coming to Africa for his first time. Despite this, and despite the fact that two of our key staff members quit without notice on the very day that he arrived, he seemed undaunted. In the process of handing over my job to him, it finally sunk in that I was leaving and I began to let go.
The celebrations to send me off began a week and a half before I left, and included several sumptuous feasts at various people's houses. One of these dinners included, in addition to some things I forgot, fried green bananas, french fries, chapatis (pancakey things), vegetable rice, spaghetti, a sauce with meat, one with coconut and peas, okra in sauce, fried peanuts, and fruit: papaya, oranges, watermelon. At the insistence of our hosts, we ate ourselves to the verge of tears.
The staff, volunteers and children threw a big goodbye party the day before I left. My boss explained to the kids that I was leaving by telling about my decision in the form of a story. A boy named Honest spoke for the children and said that I could go to school, but that I had to come back on the school breaks. The kids sang and wrapped me in their gift--an elaborately beaded Masai wedding outfit. We had lunch and pbj and cake (no whole roasted goat for me, thank you) and the staff said nice things about me and I said nice things about them. I gave out gifts. It was a very special day for me, and when I hugged and kissed each of the children for the last goodbye, I was very sad, but felt ready to go.
On my last day, I puttered around, packing and saying my last goodbyes to my neighbors. Water came out of the pipes for the first time in about 5 days, so I got to take a final bucket bath, and wash the dishes that had accumulated. Even as I was experiencing the giddy thrill that comes with having water come out after nearly a week without it, I was thinking about how far away from that I was going to be within a few days. Four of the children from the school, my roommate Glory, my boss, and her son crowded into a small car to take me to the airport. I took the kids up to the observation deck to see airplanes, but there actually weren't any at the entire airport, even on the ground. They were happy enough to push the luggage cart and use sit-down toilets.
And soon we were hugging our goodbyes, and I had to wipe away tears as I went through security and into the utterly foreign world of the airport. The flights were uneventful; Arusha to Addis Ababa to Rome to America. I had been looking forward for months to watching movies the whole way home, but the screens in our section of the plane just happened to be broken. I read, slept, chatted with my seatmate, and before I knew it I was...waiting irritatedly by the baggage carousel as my suitcase took forever to come out. But eventually it did and then I was through security and jumping up and down at seeing my mom.
Since then I've been getting used to being home: air conditioning, hot showers, unlimited internet, good television, driving, and all the ice cream my little heart desires. But I already miss Tanzania--I've called my boss just to talk and play the CD of Swahili hip-hop that one of my friends gave me when I left. Having lived fairly ascetically for the last year and liking it, I am trying to set up my life in America to be more basic and more socially responsible than it was when I left for Africa. So even though I am home and "home is home" as my Swahili friends say, I can tell that I have changed. It's difficult, but worthwhile, and this is the only place in the world that I want to be right now.
It's hard to believe it, but I'm back.
Emily
Greetings again and welcome to the Emily Travelogue. This email comes to you not from the internet cafe slash hair salon, nor the expat fast food hangout, nor the rickety, dark and funny-smelling secretarial bureau at Arusha's busiest intersection. It comes from my basement, in my house, in the town I grew up in. Three weeks ago, my replacement arrived in Tanzania. He was fresh from Ireland and coming to Africa for his first time. Despite this, and despite the fact that two of our key staff members quit without notice on the very day that he arrived, he seemed undaunted. In the process of handing over my job to him, it finally sunk in that I was leaving and I began to let go.
The celebrations to send me off began a week and a half before I left, and included several sumptuous feasts at various people's houses. One of these dinners included, in addition to some things I forgot, fried green bananas, french fries, chapatis (pancakey things), vegetable rice, spaghetti, a sauce with meat, one with coconut and peas, okra in sauce, fried peanuts, and fruit: papaya, oranges, watermelon. At the insistence of our hosts, we ate ourselves to the verge of tears.
The staff, volunteers and children threw a big goodbye party the day before I left. My boss explained to the kids that I was leaving by telling about my decision in the form of a story. A boy named Honest spoke for the children and said that I could go to school, but that I had to come back on the school breaks. The kids sang and wrapped me in their gift--an elaborately beaded Masai wedding outfit. We had lunch and pbj and cake (no whole roasted goat for me, thank you) and the staff said nice things about me and I said nice things about them. I gave out gifts. It was a very special day for me, and when I hugged and kissed each of the children for the last goodbye, I was very sad, but felt ready to go.
On my last day, I puttered around, packing and saying my last goodbyes to my neighbors. Water came out of the pipes for the first time in about 5 days, so I got to take a final bucket bath, and wash the dishes that had accumulated. Even as I was experiencing the giddy thrill that comes with having water come out after nearly a week without it, I was thinking about how far away from that I was going to be within a few days. Four of the children from the school, my roommate Glory, my boss, and her son crowded into a small car to take me to the airport. I took the kids up to the observation deck to see airplanes, but there actually weren't any at the entire airport, even on the ground. They were happy enough to push the luggage cart and use sit-down toilets.
And soon we were hugging our goodbyes, and I had to wipe away tears as I went through security and into the utterly foreign world of the airport. The flights were uneventful; Arusha to Addis Ababa to Rome to America. I had been looking forward for months to watching movies the whole way home, but the screens in our section of the plane just happened to be broken. I read, slept, chatted with my seatmate, and before I knew it I was...waiting irritatedly by the baggage carousel as my suitcase took forever to come out. But eventually it did and then I was through security and jumping up and down at seeing my mom.
Since then I've been getting used to being home: air conditioning, hot showers, unlimited internet, good television, driving, and all the ice cream my little heart desires. But I already miss Tanzania--I've called my boss just to talk and play the CD of Swahili hip-hop that one of my friends gave me when I left. Having lived fairly ascetically for the last year and liking it, I am trying to set up my life in America to be more basic and more socially responsible than it was when I left for Africa. So even though I am home and "home is home" as my Swahili friends say, I can tell that I have changed. It's difficult, but worthwhile, and this is the only place in the world that I want to be right now.
It's hard to believe it, but I'm back.
Emily
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