tuko moja

Excerpts from Tanzania

It’s raw, it’s boundless, it’s fact, it’s opinion, it’s joy, it’s pain… It’s the story of serving in Moshi, written by my heart.

July 3rd: “Our journey has truly begun. I am currently sitting on the plane in Dubai on my way to Kenya. So, our beginning journey has almost ended. Things did not start off too badly actually…We began the big monster 14-hour flight to Dubai with me having to calm Ethan down every 30 seconds about (a) flying over the Atlantic Ocean and (b) flying for 14 hours breathing recycled air…..no way out, dun-dun-dun . Anyway, we managed to calm down a bit and try our hardest to ignore the “moving map” conveniently displayed on the T.V. Screen right in front of our faces…Atlantic Ocean, be gone! Between movies, TRYING to sleep, reading letters, time confusion, and anxious conversation, we made it through the rest of the flight just fine…even stopped to take the time to marvel at my SEVERELY swollen feet, oh yes, my shoes barely fit. So we finally made it to Dubai. The question remains…What continent are we on anyway? I call it Indian Vegas.”

Later Thoughts in Dubai: “…so, I sat there reading ‘Three Cups of Tea’ for a bit… that Greg Mortenson, WHAT an individual he is! As I was reading, I came across a quote at the beginning of one of the Chapters….”God Says, ‘The Broken Ones are my Beloved.’ Crush your heart. Be Broken”. So, then I asked God to humble my heart and crush it…every part of it that is not His! That quote helped me quite a bit with the next strand of events lurking around the corner…This is Africa now (Kenyan Airways) and we are on African time. Our gate was open an hour early? For what? Oh, because here we stand in a long line of people being cut by everyone and their brother to weigh our carry-on luggage before boarding the plane. And of course waiting = complaining Americans. I attempted to remind everyone lightly that this was just how things worked. Embrace it. If not here, we would be waiting on the plane anyway. I was instantly reminded of the analogy given by Oswald Chambers, to be a “doormat” for Jesus Christ. Though people are cutting us because we are white and the line increasingly getting longer…God put us here to serve, let people wipe their feet on us and God wipes their hearts with His love using us as doormats…Well, it worked in my mind. But the others jet-lagged, and tired weren’t really feeling the analogy….I tried.”

Waiting, waiting, waiting in Dubai

July 4th, On the way to Kenya: “My Prayer: So I sit here and I ask, ‘Father, will you come?’ Break my heart with the broken. Fill my heart to share joy. Bring me a countenance of grace and mercy. Clothe me in humility. Teach me how to love, and love with all of my heart…for I do not yet know the depth of true love. Bring me to my knees in wonder. Fill my voice and my lungs with your contagious spirit. I want to burn like a fire, to sail like a vessel. I want to hurt so badly my body cannot move and I want to share Your love so passionately that I cannot stand still! Let none be forgotten…we will follow You, we will follow You!”

In Nairobi, Kenya.

July 7th, A New Africa : “I am not even going to try to re-cap the past few days on paper…I am very disappointed I could not have journaled my way through these past few days, but the lights were scarce at night and the thoughts were too abundant to organize on paper…maybe a bit of a list will do? It started with a long and stinky bus-ride to Moshi from Nairobi at 4:30 am and was interrupted by a stolen camera, nauseous stomachs, a LONG Visa process at the border, a really odd living situation, countless spiders, a pastor we cannot understand, many many fried bananas, lots of dirty and wonderful children, one too many “holes in the ground”, mosquito net contraption art, three heads in the bed, a LONG LONG day at Msamaria Center from Street Children, Francis (our “trusty” advisor) forgetting to pick us up, chickens EVERYWHERE, group meltdown, the worst headache of my life, group meltdown, longing for Laura, group meltdown, tons of tears, relocating, my day to call home, emotional breakdown, feeling really lost, and ending in a really lonely night…with another breakdown. Weakness is God’s Strength, Amen? Lord, Mend us back as one and most importantly, mend us back to You. Guide our feet to walk the road with You, so closely that our hearts tell of your story, and our faces mirror your sacrifice…break our hearts, not for us…but for You.”

July 8th: “…while Suzann and Ashley were coloring with the kids at Msamaria, Ethan, Jeremy, and I were drug through the corn fields to the soccer (football) field to play a game of ‘teeech-ah football’. Of course I stayed to the side and took pictures of all the kids playing soccer with the boys. I often found myself distracted by two little boys going between being all over me and just about kicking each other to death…sadly, that’s how they play around here, though it is hard to understand and it hurts to watch, one day I dream that they will be more at peace with life…in every way. Until then, I will continue loving them, as gently as I can. Exhausted and dirty, we strolled back to join the coloring party…the kids had completely finished one coloring book and were devouring the next. Care Bear pictures were being tossed in every direction as we were being patient in teaching them the virtues of sharing, respect and patience…harder than we thought….these kids are some the most challenging children I have ever worked with, but at the same time, they are the brightest children in my world. I love them just the same…Christ calls them by their kiswalhili names, just as He calls mine…How beautiful.”

Michael

July 9th: Exhausted doesn’t even cut it: “…today we will INSIST on walking and learning the way to Msamaria. Extremely hot day +  a thirty pound duffle bag full of donations + a tired team + rutty roads (can’t roll the duffle, good idea Chloe!) + running out of water + a few miles walk = PURELY EXHAUSTED MUZUNGUS (white people)!!!!! And do you think that any of us actually learned the ‘ever-so-easy’ (Francis) walk to Msamaria? No! Basically, we stumbled through the gate of the orphanage completely worthless. We drug our tired bodies into the office to unload the bag of donations (they were very, very grateful…so it paid off) and went to sit outside in the main room to listen to a medical presentation from two visiting students. Jeremy fell asleep sitting straight up, eyes open and I was at war with the back of my eyelids. So, we agreed to calmly color…HA! With this crowd….not going to happen, should have known! Crayons, paper, shoes, sticks, etc…going EVERYWHERE…oh my, they never rest…”

Feel the beat...if you can find the beat!

July 10th: “Suzann and I worked together again today teaching at Rose Education Center in the P2 class…you just can’t handle them all alone. This morning, the teacher handed me another small ripped booklet with “English P2″ written on it and asked, ‘Can you teach drawing class?’ Now THAT I can do, but out of an English book? Okay, we will just go off of the pictures! Of course we spent the first five minutes just getting the fourteen of them to calm down and sit in their seats. Unfortunately, it is cloudy and a bit rainy today..so, there is not much light in our classroom at all. Interpretive contrast drawing we will call this! Thank heavens for white chalk on a black board (easy to see)! We started off by doing a step-by-step butterfly and they did really well aside from them constantly searching for their pencils and the chalk either breaking or ‘evaporating into the rain’….(aka a sneaky child). I had such a great time teaching them art and seeing what they created from their heads…really artistic children we have here! Another job possibility? Elementary School Art teacher…instilling art at the very beginning and encouraging their minds to use the creative process to work through school and life….but that sounds like a journal entry for another day…here come Ethan and Jeremy to control our kids… “

P2 Class at Rose Education Center

Later July 10th: ” Jeremy, Ethan and I went into town after working with the school (inhale, exhale)…my voice was exhausted. Little did we know…Chloe’s legacy still stands, I brought a LOT of rain to Africa, during the dry season? oh yes! Muddy, clay roads + slippery shoes + tired white travelers + rain, rain, rain + endless puddles = a really funny walking experience. We were sliding EVERYWHERE. Ashley and Suzann decided to stay back at Francis’ house as we continued on into town…more like mud skated our way into town. It really wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be and the time in town gave us some time to relax and do a bit of “snack” and water shopping…After making it back to the house, the day of surprises hadn’t ended yet…’THERE ARE TWO CHICKENS IN OUR HOUSE!’ Oh yes, IN the house…and keys on the counter? Weird. After a quick glance through the house (followed by chickens…) we screamed ‘HALLELUJAH’ at the sight of two installed showers…so what to do about the chickens? I know! Video Documentation is the answer! Lord, it was a sight! Jeremy and I were running around making chicken noises with Ethan chasing behind us with the camera, dodging chicken crap all over…yes folks, video coming to stores nearest you. Well, it was a laugh…”

We won't even bother with names...

July 12th: Sunday in Tanzania “So the church filled up with about twenty people at 7:00 a.m…very light for this area, but it is still early. The pastor left for Kenya this week; so, of course being the only true ‘English-speaking’ people there in a special ‘English Service’…we were asked to share! And music we did share! They started off their their own praise and worship songs and even though there were very little people filling up the sanctuary, I still felt the Spirit of God…a very strong, quiet, and sure Spirit. In fact, with the first song we asked the Spirit to ‘Come’! And guess what song came like thunder? ‘There’s no one, there’s no one like Jesus…’ An old Zambian favorite…and here comes the tears inside my throat and eyes. I just could not stop myself from dancing and singing one verse in Tonga…what a connection of the Spirit of God, what a connection of two countries, so dear to my heart!”

Later…” ‘Our Guests will share a song!’ Oh boy. Earlier, Ethan had been able to find an electric guitar severely out of tune and Jeremy had found his place on the keyboard, the three of us girls were handed microphones and out poured ‘Mighty to Save’, and it came with a roar. ‘Saviour, He can move the mountains! Our God is Mighty to save! He is mighty to save!’ Of course an encore performance was requested by the audience, so we pulled out the infamous upbeat white people praise song…’Trading My Sorrows’ Yes, yes, Lord! We made it though it, and praise God for such a supportive audience on such late notice…I think they really did enjoy it!”

Haika Mboya and William Mboya

Sunday Continued…”Sundays in Africa are bigger than the Fourth of July. My goodness, I am so glad we decided to stay through the Kiswalhili service! That’s where the Spirit is invited! We just now have finished singing, dancing, and listening to music for over an hour! As I suspected, the choir…can SING! Men dancing all around, women belting it out from every pipe…It is the greatest thing I have ever seen or heard in a really long time! The church filled up very quickly from back to front, with all of the children gathered up in the front to join the celebration, without missing a beat! The sight simply cannot be captured on paper…I pray that everyone can experience this at some point in their life…to live it, to see it, to breathe it…to be in on it! You can’t contain it. If only I could feel this free every Sunday, this close to the people I am worshipping with who are usually an ocean away and a language apart! Sundays in Africa…they live for them!”

My rocket dogs went in the shower with me tonight after suffering the rainy-day Friday on my feet…sadly enough…I don’t think they are going to make it this time…ahh, they have seen many days, and the soil of many countries….everyone was grieving with me…R.I.P, sorry Laura : (

Those "puppies" have seen many miles...

July 13th: ” ‘Oh teech-ah, teech-ah!’ We switched things up today and went to Msamaria this morning. Let me just say that our thirty minute walk to the orphanage is a whole lot more enjoyable at 8:00 AM. I love being this close to the equator! The kids were doing a bit of schoolwork this morning when we got there (The ones that don’t go to school)…or at least the volunteers were attempting to teach anyone who would listen. Ashley and I wandered into a room to teach that literally smelled like…poop, I wish there were a better word. I was just praying it wasn’t one of the little children I was teaching….wishful thinking, love even though it hurts, Chloe`. For about 45 minutes I worked with a sweet, sweet, autistic girl named Josephina. We were working on copying down our alphabet and numbers, and I was fighting back my nausea slowly growing from the smell. Other than writing half of the alphabet backwards and going into a mad rage on a little boy named Gilbert….I would say Josephina and I had a very successful lesson . Teaching here is a lot different than at Rose, that’s for sure. But to me, far more rewarding…we are teaching these kids right now so that one day they might be able to go to school like the other children…oh, I pray. We were running out of ideas quickly so we just decided to pull out the old trusty coloring books to spark some creativity! I just sat there caught in pure splendor, looking all around me at what the children were creating….’Teach-ah Teach-ah!!!! LOOK TEACH-AH!!!!!!’…music to my ears.”

Josephina.

Later… “…the sun is starting to set and the boys should be back soon…For now I am just resting, drained from our journey, though not yet ready to leave…Maybe I will go read a bit more, or maybe I will just sit here and listen to Moshi…The sounds of women washing clothes in the back, the crickets just starting to chirp, the roosters aimlessly crowing into dusk, the men coming home to their families on bikes, the kids settling down from school and the easy silence of a country, a city…that has a new place, a permanent place in my heart.”

The Easy Silence

July 14^th:  And it Was All Yellow “Just as we are getting ready to leave, I have acquired a deep longing for these children at Msamaria…I want to know them…really, their stories, their learning habits, their ever-changing names, their favorite things…I am sitting here watching a little boy that has been tested to be HIV+ color with all of the yellow crayons in the box. His picture looks like sunshine and so does his smile, a permanent Crayola color on his face. Just now, I sat here with a little girl in a beautiful, filthy, old, and worn Sunday dress. She sat in my lap for a while naming every color in the coloring box and repeating after me as I read captions from the ‘Gigantic Bible Coloring Book’. We read about Ester…funny how that happens. I pray that God uses us as boldly and powerfully for these Children…oh, only to have that much strength! … Now a little boy names Joseph sits across from me … he speaks only Kiswahili, but he just sits there watching me write and smiling. The director offered us his interpreting help, but I kindly declined, there is too much power here at this table for words, words might break it.”

Ethan and Alberti

Later… Last Day at Rose “The dismissal bell rang at about 4:00 p.m. and my P6 Class did not even budge to leave…only in Tanzania! The teachers call all of the children in their assembly lines out in the front schoolyard to close the day. Today, even the director of Rose (a huge, WONDERFUL handicapped African woman) came to close with them…and with us. She is pure joy, I wish we could have seen a lot more of her. Saying goodbye to the little ones, our students… felt so strange… I think all of us found it difficult to leave the classroom for the last time…We gave each and every one of them a “cars” sticker on their little black uniforms and Ethan took a headshot of every student. My how their faces lit up, they felt like movie stars! We stuck around until all of the children thanked us, cried a bit, and made us cry…and with that we sent the students at Rose home with our blessing, one last time…or maybe it is not the last time! “

Tanzania is a place where life is just…

Real. You walk down the street and say “jambo” or “Good Morning” at any time of the day, the roosters are always waking us up. You place a 200 shilling coin on the counter of a small shop and receive one Fanta chilled in the perfect little glass bottle, everything is recycled…They conserve everything. When you first move into a house, your neighbors bring you their table with a pretty tablecloth and cover all of your windows with their nice sheets. Children that you have taught for two hours cry when “Teech-ah” leaves, and make sure they have her email address to write her. Kids come running from kingdom-come to touch the “Muzungu’s” hair and giggle at her vain attempt to conquer Kiswahili. Moshi never sleeps and neither will you. Kilimanjaro opens up the skies every morning and watches over the town at night. Just outside of town, your lungs are promised the freshest air one could ever breathe…ahh, the coffee tree. The pastor gives you his finest house and apologizes for not having more. Tea time is anytime…Life is Real.

The Group's All Here!

Even Later… “Just in time! We arrived back at our house from town just as we would have been needing a light to see in the night. We were surprised to find the pastor here to greet us…he must have gotten home from Kenya! William told us this morning that he had gotten back yesterday! How nice it was of him to stop by and check on us! To our delight, we have gotten much better at understanding “Ki-swa-glish” (You can only guess what that sounds like!) … we really understood him a lot better…our ears are adapting! He spoke with us about how blessed he has been to have this house to open up to visitors and how he dreams to one day get furniture to put into the rooms and common room. … so you send your friends back to Moshi with us!! he says. What a wonderful pastor. We shared with him our contact information and the postcards we had brought from home…he was very intrigued by the beach, I must say.  Also, we were able to give him the blanket that we had bought, back in the states, for his family as a gift for their hospitality. He immediately wrapped up in it and reminded us of how great of a gift it was because of how cold it was outside in July…as we sit here wearing sweat glitter on our foreheads…we got so tickled by that, and made sure to take pictures with him and the blanket! Like most of the people I have met…I wish we could have spent more time with him as well…his family has been so wonderful in opening their rooms and homes to all of us. We have really grown to like his eldest son, William (especially the guys…they are kindred spirit through music)…He has checked up on us every night and blessed us with his sweet, gentle spirit, unlike any I have ever seen. We will still be seeing the rest of the family tomorrow night though, when we go to Bible Study…I don’t even want to think about saying ‘goodbye’ to this place, these people, this town, this country, my heart…”

Pastor Mboya

Pastor Strutting the Blanket!!! While we sweat!

July 15th: Be Thou My Vision This morning Ethan had the idea to spend our half hour walk to Msamaria in prayer, in silence…ahh, what sweet sound. Actually, him and I had just talked about the beauty of silence last night…listening to Tanzania. And so we walked, and prayed…I prayed for the country…for the children, that they be educated to build this country from the bottom up…for the men, to respect their wives and love their families until the day they die, not to abandon them…for the women, to know that they are loved and chosen, they are treasured and have worth…for those who come to serve, to live as the natives live, to hurt with them, laugh with them, and to find what true love is through them…to feel it, to show it, to find it in Christ…I breathed in the moist morning air, embraced the ground under my feet…every speck of dust, Loved everyone I passed with my eyes, and filled my heart with tears of leaving the people I have always loved…I just never got the chance to show it before now, and it overflows…it may not always come out of my mouth, but my spirit overflows with a longing for these treasured citizens of Heaven, this country…the Love of Christ for this nation.

As I was walking with my eyes scanning every crevice of the portrait painted before me, we strolled past a store playing a song…beautiful, I could already tell…But, as we drew closer I heard the words of the song that was playing, ‘Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart…’ Oh, my eyes filled with tears…Lord, may my eyes see what you see today when I look upon these children, when I hold them and everything else the sun touches…my bookbag was weighing down my shoulders for the last time,  a water bottle clanging my right leg with every step and a pair of flowery keds tied to my left strap…yesterday, I had on my keds and Nema, a grown girl living here, asked me for me shoes…Nema needs them so badly, I would be honored for her to walk in my shoes. So, I brought them to Mama today to give them to her, Bless the ground they will tread upon.”

Peter.

Later… “And now I sit here with Suzann coloring with some children, a small girl next to me working through an English workbook, Julia in the classroom behind me (who I found out was a dancer and an artist) teaching more math religiously, Gilbert across from me who’s eye is bleeding from an accident, a puppy beneath me whom I am dying to free from small children and a leash, two British women in front of a chalkboard doing their best to teach an English lesson to anyone who will listen, and all of the children crowding around coloring Bible stories that I pray they may understand…last days are never easy…”

Gilbert.

Saying Goodbye…”I ran over to Victor to say goodbye…he ran up to me and jumped straight into my arms, about killed my arms and about shattered my heart too…Usually wild and boundless, he just sat there clutching his arms around me tight…’No Teacher, no leave’. All he had on were some little shorts and a huge sleeveless button-up cardigan made for my grandfather…and we just stood there …looking into each other’s eyes, caught in the golden light of his skin and amber eyes. This is what it means to leave you heart…this is what it means to give love away, all of it. Every last drop was left right there swimming in the eyes of Victor.

Victor. Strongest boy I know.

…We cleaned up our coloring pages for the last time and closed the Chaco box full of half-broken crayons…and we walked through the gate for the last time followed by twenty-two waving hands…even Peter.

…On our way home in the silence of a longing to remain here…walking the streets and recognizing marketers passing by, knowing the little roasted corn seller on the corner just before you reach our home, hugging the little children on the street we never knew, saying ‘Jambo!’ to every passerby, having ‘How are you?’ screamed at us from every direction because it is the only English they know, following goats all the way home, stopping at the little street grocer to buy a Coke Light on the way home and bringing him back your glass bottles to trade, having someone say ‘Mambo caca?’ (What’s up brother?) …even though we are continents apart…Tuko Moja.”

Later in Bible Study…”Mama Mboya got up to speak again, this time with a man translating; finally, we could understand her for the first time. She thanked us so much for coming to serve and being so spiritually dedicated as teenagers. She also commended us for coming over as Americans and respecting the culture by wearing long skirts unlike many tourists. She sent us with her prayers and her traveling blessings. We were called up to the front to have a prayer said for us…the elders came up to the front and everyone erupted into Kiswahili prayers…my goodness, I have never heard such a thing so breathtaking…roaring, sweet prayer. For once, I felt as if I understood, though I did not…it sounded sweet. I just knew what they were praying for and felt so honored for so many believers to be lifting us up at once, in the name of Jesus…it reminded me of what Heaven might be like…and the words in my mouth were lost in the sea of a blessing being sung over us as we filed out the building shaking everyone’s hand…a blessing, surely not my goodbye.”

Ethan teaching at Msamaria

Last night’s journey… “William escorted us home since he lived right behind us and Ethan was looking to buy some chili sauce to bring home, leave it to him to wait until the very last minute to get something…we went home a little out of the way and it really was getting dark…but, we were with William and we convinced Ashley and Suzann to just enjoy our last night in Moshi…we were safe. I will say the walk through town was a bit rough…we finally found the chili sauce and we could not see even a foot in front of us, what a night to not have the headlamp. A group of mischievous boys followed us all the way home and all we could say was ‘Hapana!’ (no children!)…definitely a part of Moshi we had not seen. But hey, we were here to be in on it…live as they live! William led us safely home…blind as bats, but home! It was so hard to bid him farewell especially for the guys who really connected with him through music. William and I had even had a nice talk about Zambia one morning. I shared with him as much as I knew, he was really curious about the country as one developing nation learns from another. We told him to please keep in touch…I really hope he does. I pray that he finds a nice Christian woman to love and marry…Africa needs more young men like William, so sweet to the very core, gentle, and understanding…all 100 pounds of him! Plus, that smile!

William and Friends across Oceans.

Beginning of the End…” I just have taken my last freezing cold shower…just as it has grown on me. I don’t want to leave this place, my work here is not done. Even this house…is all someone needs to survive, just here…if not more. Everyone is oddly goofy tonight, just ready to get home, back to normal…But me, I am a bit reserved, reflective if your will, as always…’Home’ came too soon. Every morning I wake up to go open at work, I will be wishing I was going to walk down the street to teach a class at Rose Education. To hear the sound of chalk squeaking, to see the little children dressed up in their sweater uniforms when it is 80 degrees outside, to only get through ten quiz questions in class because you write everything on the chalkboard…overhead projectors and “smart boards” do not exist. Every time I go to buy a soda I will cringe at the thought of a $1.45 bottle of coke…not even in a glass bottle. Every time I go to worship, I will be disappointed because I understand every word and can predict every tune. I will long to walk everywhere and feel the soft fabric of a cotton skirt stick to the hairs growing like weeds on my legs…I will long for a place where I enter a room in which I have never felt so wanted, so loved from the very start…I will long for ‘Jambos!’ and learning the language by emerson…I will long for women carrying their lives, their stories on top of their heads (literally)…a place where there are no lines in the roads or lights on the street, you choose your own path in life…a place where I have to be called another name because they cannot say ‘Chloe`’…a place like right here…

My heart, my body, my soul will miss you Moshi, elders, children, chickens… May the Lord bless you and keep you until we may meet again…and again.”

July 16^th: Across Borders “I am sitting here on board an Impala Shuttle in Arusha, Tanzania heading towards Nairobi, Kenya. Just filing out my Tanzania departure form and breathing the last fresh Kilimanjaro air before the door closes tight…breathe in, breathe out…I don’t want to leave this air…breathe in, breathe out…I don’t want to leave these people… breathe in, breathe out…Please, don’t close the…door.”

My Heart stays...

July 17^th: Nairobi, Kenya More Than I Can Say “ I feel like words should stop here altogether…after a bit of a drive through Nairobi piled into a van with another Kenyan girl from Joe’s helping staff, we arrived in the biggest slum in all of Africa, Kibera. This time, there are no words or phrases to dictate Kibera. The entire slum in 5 kilometers in diameter…you cannot even see where it ends, it doesn’t. Driving through…I was breathless. Overcome by people, gagging at the sight of slaughtered cows in every direction, undone by the thought of How? How on EARTH can this be? How can this be set before my eyes at this moment? Why, Why, Why? I cannot even speak, I cannot even write. Even driving in the car we were so close to everything we could reach out and touch it…but, we didn’t dare. There were even times people would bang on the car…I don’t blame them though, a car full of ‘muzungus’ looking at them in utter shock, like looking into a snow globe…But I couldn’t move my face, it was frozen. This is real. This is not a scene from ‘Slumdog Millionaire’, this is truly right in front of my face. We pulled up to an orphanage deep into Kibera called ‘Mama Tunza Center for Street Children’…okay, I previously lied. Words stop here. The building was nothing more than pieces of scrap wood all glued together by little nails and little children everywhere… I tried to unglue my jaw, but I could not. I tried to blink, but my eyes have failed me. I could not think beyond what I saw, was this even real? They took us up to climb  a really unsturdy, steep ladder and yes, there was another floor constructed in the same manner…how on earth was this built? How? We were escorted into the ‘office’ where we were told the story and the history of the orphanage by a man named Solomon, I am convinced I had a saint standing before me, he even had a glow…shining skin that was dark as night…I wanted to stay here, empty my wallet, pour out my heart, rip my clothes to shreds on my back, grab a textbook to teach, and live in the filth to teach these children, to love them…I was completely uncomfortable; yet, I did not want to leave. Solomon and Hudson gave us a tour of the building…structure?…fortress?…for 304 children, yes, I said 304 orphans…Where on earth do they fit them all?! Well, I was about to find out…and the words fade even more. A pitch black room the size of my room at home (not very large) housed about twenty grown girls…maybe even more…the beds faded into the darkness, we had to squint our eyes to see all of the beds stacked upon each other. So, I know my glance failed to account for every one. They even have to secure the girls room at night, for some try to slip out into prostitution…at even ten years old. Ouch, my heart just chipped…My mind cannot wrap around the thought…we stopped into classrooms to find kids packed in like little mice…studying harder than I have ever seen before, this is their way out…my heart broke once more.

Kibera Slums

I didn’t even want to leave this place, I want to stay…to live as they live…to test my ability to love without bounds, to love them without bounds…

We drove even deeper into the slums to lose ourselves even more…while others can look upon this and be amazed, mesmerized even from the outside world…I look on this and break, shatter, into shambles…Who is going to pick up the pieces of me on the ground? I am still lying there…

We saw the apartments the Kenyan government is working on to move the people of Kibera into, but work is slow and there is a bit of corruption within the project…people cannot begin moving until there is a room for every family…how earth-shattering that day will be…

The drive back to Joe’s took about an hour…welcome to Africa’s Manhattan. All I could do was shut my eyes and sleep…I took my last shower and could not even eat tonight, so I called my mom instead, it was my night to call. It was wonderful to hear her voice, but so impossible to explain everything I felt that day…I could not, so I sit here journaling in Africa for the last time this year…I never wish to leave…but again, I know my heart will stay. I know what Charlotte means to feel so discouraged…how? how?….How can this ever be fixed? It is so overwhelming but life is so simple all-in-the-same, as Solomon told us today, ‘Many people come here and judge the people of Kibera…we are nothing and they forget…they forget us, or ignore us.”

No, Solomon, I will not forget, I will not judge…my family lives in Kibera just as much as my family lives in North Carolina…If I were to forget the people of this continent…I would forget my whole heart, truthfully. I pray it never be forgotten, for I am never the same.

Goodnight Kenya,

Be back soon,

Be home soon.

Suzann, Tuma, and Joseph

July 18th: “I hardly slept last night…in fact, I didn’t sleep at all last night…listening to the sounds of sheets rustling, dreams whirling, and tears streaming down my face…I cannot stand to leave this place. I laid awake until 3:30 a.m. when the alarm rang…I am pretty sure I only slept once, briefly when I had a bit of a crazy dream about snow in Africa…not too sure about that.

Later…The van ride to the airport at 4:30 in the morning was painted with silence for the first time…I had tears running down my face the entire time. I now have normal clothes on…no long skirt, clean shirt, Tanzanian Jewelry…the only trace of Africa is on my feet (and in my heart)…I look down to find my feet dry, cracked, filthy, and crusted with dirt…the African soil is still engrained in them, but I don’t mind. I want to stay, to continue what we started. Unlike many, to me, this is not a vacation, a really unique shopping market, a good summer deed, a traveling adventure, a couple hundred amazing pictures of little children and wild animals…this is real, this is me…who I am. This is where I find who I am. I walk into a room and I am welcomed, I go into town and I have to make out phrases of Kiswahili, I look around and people are working with purpose…purpose to survive, I greet people on the street with ‘Jambo’ and people smile in appreciation that I care enough to greet them in their language, I am not just a traveler climbing Kilimanjaro…I am a servant, a part of their culture. We were in on it, we lived like them. I walk outside and the sight of the mother mountain stings my eyes with wonder, I listen to the roosters crowing (ahh…God’s alarm clock), I see people’s lives unraveling before my eyes…I am wanted, I am needed, and I need them…So, I will never stop coming back, my heart breaks more and more every time and I become more complete with every crack, every shatter…break me more, mold me more…I am already plotting my next return…I cannot help but to feel a bit sick to my stomach from a hole growing in the middle of me, right through my core…the only cure is to go back…to keep following…to keep breaking…to keep going home…”

Joseph

For the First time in seventeen days I can sing…”Well, it’s 8 hours later in Tanzania…”

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Just for your enjoyment:

Lessons Learned in Tanzania

• Don’t leave the door open…chickens come in
• Never stick your finger up a goat’s butt
• It probably isn’t a good idea to drop your wrap skirt in church
• In order to catch a skink/lizard/slimy creature…form a barricade
• When teaching, don’t leave your chalk out on the windowsill, it disappears.
• Never take your camera out on public transportation
• Just don’t even try to have a name like “Chloe`” in Africa.
• Never say “yes” when the Safari guy asks you if he can pick up his mother
• “Oh Sorry!” means “Oh no!”, “Oh goodness!”, or “Are you okay?”
• You should probably go pee at least once on a fourteen hour flight
• Bug Spray…is not perfume
• “No Suzann, that is NOT Kilimanjaro!”
• Rice and beans are all you need in life!
• When cooking, plain white rice smells like popcorn
• You don’t need underwear…compressions shorts ARE INDEED undergarments
• Yoghurt in Dubai…is made with goat’s milk
• In Tanzania…Goats have huge balls (I DID NOT say it!)
• Dogs here have ridiculously large nipples…like, it’s disgusting
• Americans seem to talk about bodily function more in Africa than anywhere else
• Don’t give donations to the teachers…give them to students!
• “I miss you” means “See you later”…it is not an African way of hitting on you
• If you are white, and in Tanzania…you are automatically “Teacher”
• Everything is in glass bottles and everything is re-used and recycled (YES!)
• 6:00 A.M. is really our 12:00 A.M…the day “begins” at 6:00 A.M… if that makes sense
• Anytime is teatime!
• Roosters are waking you up all day…that is why people say “Good Morning!” at any time of the day! (My theory at least…)
• No, it is not weird to live down the street from a coffin factory
• Coffee in Moshi = WAY too strong soup
• Wagons are way better than cars, no matter the load…but move out of their way!
• Chips are French fries
• 75 degrees is really cold in Tanzania…It’s July, you need a blanket!
• Everyone is your neighbor
• You have to switch the outlet to “on” for them to work…conserves so much power!
• On Sundays at 8:00 P.M. the lights go out…bring a flashlight
• Walking faster and passing every one on the street does not make you ANY safer…yeah, we stand out even more!
• If you are driving and you are 6 inches away from the car in front and to the side of you…you are way too far away. Scoot up! You are wasting space!
• Every other commercial on T.V. is a condom commercial…no matter how it starts out…it always ends up being one!
• All television programming in Nairobi is just weird and creepy
• Don’t take pictures outside of your car in the biggest slum in Africa…you might have something thrown at you…
• Never go to Africa with long hair…cut it all off, or get cornrows!
• Rocket-dogs are, in fact, not invincible…as we thought…
• Last but not least, never go to Africa if you don’t want to be broken down to the ground…or if you want to keep your heart in your chest…