Almost home...

I come home in FOUR days…predictably, I am having very mixed emotions. Some parts of me are ready to go home, to see my family (especially Vince who is significantly bigger now), to have a Western toilet and an actual shower, to be able to run without being harassed, to eat something other than rice, ugali, beans, and/or cabbage for dinner each night. But a bigger part of me is already missing Tanzania. I have actually had some successful pseudo-conversations in Kiswahili recently, and my mama complimented my progress – too bad I most likely will not keep practicing upon my return. The weather has gotten a bit better and there has recently been sunshine. Many Tanzanians in the street can now identify me as a mwalimu (teacher) and are respectful and do not harass me once they confirm their suspicions. (I am not really sure how they guess that I am a teacher, but I am thinking it must be my horrible fashion sense which has devolved into modesty with practicality – skirts with tennis shoes, amazing) I have gotten close with several Tanzanians, and my family here I will especially miss. All in all, I love Tanzania…and I definitely see myself back here, hopefully sooner rather than later.

My last week of community training with GSC was good, pretty routine by now. Actually, it almost seemed that the better we got at teaching for community groups, the more disheartening it became. All of the trainings I did except for one were coordinated through women’s groups, so there were only female participants. A lot of the information we shared with them was great and seemingly helpful (i.e. myths about AIDS, how to care with someone who is infected, how HIV can be transmitted from one person to another including MTCT). But when it came to protection from infection via sex, it got very sticky. The vast majority of the women were married, and many times none of the prevention methods given in the ‘ABC’ method (Abstain, Be faithful, or use Condoms) were realistic options (being faithful only works if your partner is also faithful to you, clearly). We did not get many questions about how to effectively talk with stubborn/controlling husbands in our first couple of trainings, but then it came up every time. And we never came up with a good answer. GSC never addressed this in our orientation, and really, what can we say? Especially as foreigners who want to reserve judgment on other cultures. And even if it was okay to say that their culture is bad for imparting their husbands with so much control over their lives, that does not change the reality of their current situations. Our only semi-decent answer was that they need to teach both their daughters and sons about HIV, relationships, and communication, so even if they cannot attain gender equality in their marriage, they can educate the next generation to empower women.

I had a creepster experience early last week, when a man started walking with me on my way home from town. This happens with some regularity, so I was not at all surprised, especially when he started talking about the safari company he works for and telling me I should use them for safari. After explaining that I had already been on safari and was leaving in a week, he moved on to talking about me: what I am doing here, what I study in the states, etc. Still okay. Then he suggests that we stop and get a soda before I go home – no, my sisters are waiting for me. He will not let it go, says it will not take long…I keep refusing, say that I am already late and need to go home. So he asks if we can do it the next day. Sorry, probably not because I only have a week left and I am very busy. From this point on it is just very weird…he gets up in my ear and whispers that he wants to “give me something special” (eek), tells me that I am different because I am white (I hate that one), and claims that I promised that I would get a soda and chipsi with him. Nope, I did not promise you anything; oh well, you told me you would; no, you told me that I would. He also explains that he knows, unlike most people, that not all white people have a lot of money – yes, for example, me. He says that since I am a student and “on a budget”, I should come to his house and he will “cook me a vegetable”. No thank you. He gets upset and asks “well do you have money or not?” No, but my mama cooks for me and I like her food so I do not need you to cook for me. At this point we are at the corner where I turn off the main road and start down back roads to my house, and there is no way I want to let this guy see where I live. I round on him and ask him where he is going – back to town apparently, he came all of this way for no reason other than to talk with me. Okay, fine, I am going home now, kwaheri. I turn and continue, and he keeps following me. So I stop in front of a group of Tanzanian guys who stand in front of this little shop and who know me by now, and refuse to continue on until he leaves. I tell him that we are done talking, I am going home, and he needs to go. He finally does, but not before saying that we will meet tomorrow. Luckily I have not seen him since. I think if I do I will pretend not to remember him and just ignore him. Really, he might be fine. People here seem to not have a grasp of what foreigners think of as creepy, so they typically seem more sketch than they actually are. But I am not looking to make friends with random older men anyway, so even if he is harmless, I do not want to hang out.

On Friday, one of the other volunteers with GSC, Taylor, created a surprise night for the other 11 of us girls who did day camp together and are still here in TZ. Since I worked with Taylor in community training all that week, I was able to get some information out of her and piece together a lot of the rest, so it was not that huge of a surprise for me; but I actually prefer figuring things out and turning out to be right more than being surprised anyway. We went to a great local joint for dinner (amazing veggie burgers for only 1000 TZsh = less than a dollar), she bought a chocolate cake for us to share, and she got everyone a kitenge. We went through and everyone wrote in permanent marker on everyone else’s kitenge…I am excited to read it once I get home, it will be a great memory not only of Tanzania, but of the amazing people I worked with. I came here not expecting to make friends with any of the other volunteers; I was expecting Africa to be an intensely personal experience that would not involve much reflection with others while I was here. But it turned out that the group I worked with was made up of stellar people – which makes a lot of sense if you think about it…it takes a certain type of person to want to come to Africa to volunteer for a summer. At any rate, I am very grateful for all of the girls in our group. They definitely made my experience here even more meaningful than it would have been otherwise.