I'm currently in Kigoma, Tanzania. I huffed, I puffed, and I climbed up the most beautiful mountains in search of chimpanzees. In short, we found man's closest relative, and damn, were they cute! This trip, far off the beaten path, into a Tanzania I have not yet explored, has exceeded every expectation. Kigoma is so remote that our plans were not solidified until the day before take off. In a series of fortunate coincidences I am about to board a WWI ferry and head south for 2 days to the last port in TZ.

I've been keeping notes and a full report is on its way. This trip, long awaited and well deserved, is just what the doctor ordered. I'm eager to get home, check on my chickens, rile up the batik group, and play some netball with my 7th graders.

I've neglected my blog and apologize. In the blur of the new year I simply have found my life unremarkable. Day in and day out are very much the same. Stay in touch and I promise a new and fabulous entry in the next 2 weeks.

xoxo

This morning on the village bus, squashed between a woman with a chicken in her purse and a 20-something man wearing a black jean jacket with gold-lamee tassles cascading in all directions, I realized something...I do NOT fit in here. This epiphany can only mean 1 of 2 things. First, my skin is now so thick I don't register lingering stares or the piercing sobs of children literally terrified I will chop their heads off. Or second, I'm an idiot and it's taken me 20 months to realize that I'm a white girl living in a village. Feel free to place your bets, but I'm siding with Option 1 for ego's sake.

Since getting back to the village after 3.5 glorious weeks in America (and a less glorious 9lb weight gain), I have felt, well, understimulated. Village life is boring! A full day consists of making coffee, playing with children, buying tomatoes, cooking a meal, reading, and maybe a walk if it's not torrentially raining. My projects are all in an in-between phase now so beyond a quick phone call or 20 minute meeting, I've got absolutely nothing to do. I can't decided whether this pace is ideal and I'm too high strung to appreciate it, or if this pace is a type of torture designed to make me go insane day-by-day.

On a positive note, the chickens have started laying eggs! Only about 4 are laying each day but this number will continue to increase over the next few weeks. Thursday I held a meeting with the teachers to discuss the details of the money and how to make the project transparent (AKA-the principal will not be getting his sticky fingers anywhere near the loot). The toilets, while completed last year, finally had doors installed last week. As for batik, I was able to sell 15 batiks in America! Thanks to everyone who supported the awesome women in my Mama's group. We will begin making village oriented fabric next week.

It's safe to say, I'm in the home stretch. I have 6 full months of service left until I can finally pat myself on the back. I will not be continuing my Peace Corps service. I can only take so many surprises-the latest, bed bugs. UGH. I'm beginning to consider my options for work in Tanzania. I simply refuse to return to America and waitress indefinitely when I could be getting great experience in the development field here. For the sake of my mom's well-being, however, if anyone hears of jobs stateside, let me know! :) My only requirement is living in a city that has at least part-time electricity.

Nothing else to report for now. Love to everyone.

PS-Leave a comment! I change the settings so anyone can. Trust me, you will make my day. xo

Picture 1-This is Ajuaye my good friend and 'maid'. She gave birth to Zena Elizabeth in November. She gave me a huge honor by giving Zena my middle name!

2-This is an annual church celebration for one of my mama's who is the leader of the Catholic church.

3-My friend Peter and I sharing a goat leg on Thanksgiving day!

4-My little buddy Adela's 9th birthday.

5-It's customary to feed each other cake on special occasions. This idea was stolen from American weddings and has spiraled into every event!

6-The boys slaughtered a goat (and later a duck) for Thanksgiving. YUMM

I'm in America. AMERICA! It's even shinier than I remembered! The roads are smooth, the food, abundant, and finally I'm just another anonymous American going through the motions. My motions, however, are fulfilled blissfully. Send me to the grocery store for a loaf of bread and I'll return 2 hours later. After all, it's my patriotic duty to pirouette down each aisle admiring, touching, and giggling at the veritable cornucopia of choice. Mundane tasks like filling the gas tank are opportunities to soak in the beauty of a functioning society. In Tanzania we travel with liters of gas in milk cartons to top up after we've come to a halt in the middle of nowhere.

These rose, white, and blue colored glasses are temporary. I can't forever be impressed that there are 225 types of crackers for sale. In fact, I'm realizing that America equates consumerism. I forgot how inundated we are by advertisements. We are all material whores. Look around you. How many things at your desk are critical to your survival? How many things in a 2 foot radius do you actually use? I'm not pointing fingers, because this is the culture in which we were raised. We proved we can survive, now we're all gluttons. More, bigger, leather interior, 500 gazillion gigabytes, sleek, sexy, status. Who are we? We cloak ourselves in gadgets and gizmos, MAC makeup and mini dresses. In America we can so easily live through alter egos. But strip it all away, all the clothes and cars, the feng shui interiors, the fake tits, the Ray Bans, the convertible. Are we even likable? Do we have any heart? Are we interesting?

I'm certainly not advocating a mass material bonfire. People work hard to buy their happiness. I'm also not saying that manual farm labor is a more fulfilling existence. I'm only sharing with you my quest to find a middle ground. Truthfully, in my strange and cluttered mind (think Japanese anime meets Chelsea Handler meets a chubby 14 year old boy), the place I can relax most, is where I'm ankle deep in chicken shit tending to my animals. For a girl who was barely capable of remembering to fill the dog's bowl, I am now a legitimate chicken farmer. Why do I do it? And more importantly, why do I enjoy it? There is immeasurable satisfaction that comes with taking control of one's surroundings and learning to use nature to ensure survival. Strip away the grocery store, GPS, google, and who would last 5 minutes? The pleasure of eating tomatoes that you nurtured from seedlings or scrambling eggs from your own backyard...come on, that's living! I don't want to be a farmer. In fact, come August 2010 the closest I want to be to the word farm is a Farmer's Market. I also don't want to disguise myself with smoke and mirrors.

For now, I'm reveling in the novelty of America. When I go to the bars in Scottsdale I fit in. Well, at least until I open my mouth. To shun consumerism, American culture, is too overwhelming. I would be an outsider. For 1.5 years I've been an outsider and while it has its perks, let's be honest...I enjoy a nice meal, a spiky pair of stilettos, and the easy existence of friends, family, and an Ipod Touch.

America and I have a complicated but empathetic relationship. We may not be life partners, but we're in an open relationship that is finally based on trust, understanding, and patience. I love America. Despite its questionable priorities, its vanity, and total disregard for the preservation of resources, I can see its inner strength and perseverance.

Excuse me, it's now time for my 2pm kitchen raid.

Patriotically yours,

Kate

19 days until I board a plane to the Promised Land. In my book, that’s 19 days too long. To put it lyrically, village life is killing me softly. I’ve been primarily running between 3 construction sites, raising chickens practically single-handedly (sustainability???), and teaching batik making to a women’s group in a sub-village about an hour away on foot. A few weeks ago while contracting transportation prices for bricks, I came across a cold, ugly truth. The principal and carpenter had been stealing hundreds of dollars from the school toilets. I’ve been told repeatedly not to trust anyone, and for the most part, I don’t. What happened is they negotiated the ‘good’ price with a driver and gave me the cost. If a white person negotiates a price in Tanzania it will generally be about twice of what a Tanzanian is quoted. I entrusted this duty into the hands of our principal, someone who is also part of my village family. Not only did he give me the wrong price, but he and the carpenter invented extra trips that never really happened. Why did they do this? The list is never-ending. First, I’m white. Naturally they’re entitled to my money as there is always plenty more where it came from. Second, in most ways, I’ll always be a guest. I’m not Tanzanian. I’m also an unlikely source of education and respect in the village. I guarantee I’m the only 23 year old that hears ‘Shikamoo’ (Swahili greeting for I respect you) from people twice my age. Anyway, these cocky men assumed I didn’t have the capacity or intelligence to sort out their dirty schemes.

When this all came to light I took it to a ward government official and he immediately crusaded into the principal’s office guns blazing. After an hour of denials and plans for a meeting the following day, I stormed to my house, slammed a few doors, and if those walls could talk, oh my…Anyway, that night the principal and carpenter, tails between their legs, returned most of the money to the government. They also presented a receipt with bogus claims of how the rest of the money was used. I was even more furious that they admitted to stealing but were still trying to get away with it! I refused to forgive them. This is a respect-based culture and I used a few choice words to make it clear their sins were not yet absolved. 3 days later, all the money was back.

It was a devastating incident. I’ve been robbed constantly since arriving in Tanzania. Weeks ago it was my ipod in an Njombe hotel where Peace Corps has had a relationship for 20 years. I’ve been robbed of clothes, money, medicine, a bike, dignity (after 3 TZ beers, that may be my own fault!). Needless to say, I am jaded. I can’t trust anyone, especially people’s intentions. How can someone laugh with me, sit in my home, work by my side and then rob me blind? I know, I know, it happens every day. I just wanted to believe people were good. Ha. After a year and a half in Peace Corps, what do I think? People suck. Do I regret coming here? Never. Am I doing sustainable work? Highly doubtful. Will some people in the village be better off because I knew them? Actually, I think yes. There’s an up-and-coming generation in Mhaji who can blow kisses, give bear hugs, use crayons, and who will never be afraid of white people. If all I did was nurture some dirty village children, I’m content to say-mission accomplished.

My main focus until December is batik. I’ll be bringing home some beautiful cloths to sell next month. The money will buy more supplies and give the women a little money to buy soap, oil, and other essentials. Some of my best moments this month have been sitting in our batik ‘office’ telling stories with the women about America and desperately trying to decipher what the hell they’re saying in the tribal language. Most people in the village prefer KiBena over KiSwahili to my dismay. We’ve shared some real belly laughs. Yesterday I was telling them about life in America and how if you don’t have money you’ll live on the street. One of the women asked if she’d be killed if she slept on the road. I said it was possible and throughout the entire 7 hours of batik yesterday she went against the grain saying she had no desire to go to America and have her head cut off. Maybe you had to be there. The rest of the women, however, are ready and willing to leave their husbands and children to drive a car and stop farming. I wish there was some way to show them America but realistically the closest they’ll get are my words and pictures. I can’t wait to shock and awe them with pictures of the freeway, grocery store, and mall. I’ve told them we have 300 brands of cookies and they think I’m nuts.

Quick project update: Chickens are 3 months and HUGE! They’ll start laying eggs in January. School toilets will be completed next week (fingers crossed). Church toilets were finished yesterday. Community toilets will be finished in 2 weeks. Final HIV village testing day is on Tuesday. I have two more walls to paint of the birthing room. Life skills is on hold until I get back in January. Orphan projects are on-going and unfortunately I have to postpone our trip to town until January. Most of the kids have never left the village so I’m planning a day trip to Njombe and a tour of the bank, market, and post office.

Happy early Thanksgiving!

Next time I write, it will be from America. Although I have a sick fear of flying, I’m actually looking forward to being on a form of transportation in which I get an entire seat to myself, my own selection of entertainment, and don’t have to close my eyes and hold my breath at every turn. I may even skip the Xanex just to catch up on the year and half of movies I’ve missed!

Lots of love to everyone.

Kate

So I have malaria. It's just not as exotic as you would think. And for anyone not totally up to speed on their African diseases, malaria is what happens when an infected mosquito bites you. If you're a healthy person, the symptoms are generally like a bad flu. I'm taking medicine and just pretty weak from not eating in a few days. I'm on the upswing and hope to head home to the village tomorrow.

No other news.

Happy Birthday Marcy on Friday!

Countdown to America: 64 days!

xox

PS-Have a new side project idea. I've been having great discussions with villagers about development and potential of Tanzania and how HIV is going to impact the future. In my region of TZ, Iringa, the HIV rate is 21% compared to a national 5.5%. The responses I get in how the discrepancy came to be are fascinating. Idea: Get the ideas from all types of village characters from teachers, politicians, cooks, housegirls, farmers, etc. I've so far talked to the primary school principal and my house girl and the responses are just polar opposite. So interesting! Keep you posted..

PSS-There is a new blog post below as well.

This blog was written on September 25.

Blah as opposed to blah, blah, blah, sums up my current demeanor. Enthusiasm-blah. Contentedness-blah. Progress-blahhhhhhh. For the first time ever I have wistfully looked into the distance picturing what would happen if I gave everything up and ran back to America. Obviously that's not an option as I am tied up in grants, promises, and pride. I'm at the 15-month mark, and fighting hard not to be jaded. Idealism has long been chucked out the window but I'm not yet a cynic. It's probably going to get better and with America and France to look forward to in just 74 days (not that I'm counting), I know I can make it. I have every intention of coming back reenergized and motivated to close out my service with a smile.

After I leave the internet cafe I'm off to a 40 cent lunch of rice, beans, and extremely greasy greens. Then the routine. Buy a package of pasta, enough candles to last the week and a handful of tomatos, onions, peppers, and garlic. Squeeze myself and belongings in between a village of people to secure my 2inch 'seat' on the bus. Fight with the conductor over the real price and 'mzungu' (white) price and find my happy place. Thankfully the ride is only about 20 minutes, up to 40 depending on the amount of police stops and drunk people. Then I sit on a bicycle for an additional 30, return home and carefully inspect for any sign of rats/army ants/cockroaches/cat poop/or bees nests.

Today I have a meeting with the mama's batik group. We are discussing batik patterns which we will then hire a village artist to draw. I am really dragging my feet in the mud with this project as I have major reservations. I'm unsure of the professional, artistic, and business capabilities of the women. One thing that reassures me, however, is their enthusiasm. Perhaps it's unfair to say I'm worried about their potential shortcomings. Truthfully I’m more concerned that I'm not able to lead a fledgling business.

For a quick update: The toilets are near completed although I have just been asked for an additional $500. While the Tanzanians working on this project are absolutely not stealing, they are tapping me to the last penny. They assume that I am an endless source of money and patience. Mid-way through the project they decided to change some of the building plans without consulting me on the cost. I am completely against a wall here and have no choice but to comply. Thankfully, I have received private donations for the toilets that supplement new costs.

The chickens are plumping up daily and have received their vaccinations and TLC like clock work. Unfortunately this clock work is largely dependent on myself and counterpart being present. Not a day goes by that I visit the chicken coup, wading around barefoot in chicken shit, and realizing the students and teachers have overlooked the completely dry water dish or food trough. Oops. I started passive-aggressively telling some people if the 'volunteers' don't start taking their job more seriously, come laying time, I'll be reaping 100 eggs a day for myself.

The orphan garden is on hold until just before the rains. Our village, like all other villages, is having a major water crisis. Crisis being-there is no water. With hardly enough to bathe, wash dishes, cook, and boil drinking water, I am in no position to start a sprawling vegetable garden. This project must wait until early November. I do plan on FINALLY making a house-to-house orphan quality of life assessment this month. The next step is also to identify children living with 1 parent but in unsuitable conditions.

This week I will be painting our labor-room a breezy summer blue. The room is dismal and makes giving birth look like a punishable offense. The women are currently delivering (sans ANY medicine) on a wooden, rickety bed because the government issued hospital bed is broken. At least when I get through with the room, hopefully adding silk flowers and pretty curtains, the room will feel less, well, abysmal. Did I mention that 1 day after popping out a baby au natural, you walk home, child strapped to your back, personal belongings in hand? No. Thank. You.

All else is fiiine. Will try to stay in better touch.

xoxo,

Kate

It's been a tumultuous few weeks. I've come out hopeful and reenergized, but also incredibly cynical about Tanzania's potential for sustainability. It's much more pleasant to read the glossy 'save-our-children' late-night commercial stuff, but it's an unfair depiction. Tanzania is not a country of all kind villagers trying to better their lives and the lives of their children. My village is full of negligence, abuse (of children, animals, and alcohol), greed, and incessant gossip. This isn't saying that all people in Mhaji are this way or that even the others don't deserve basic services like medicine in the health center and proper education for their children. It's simply to say, I'm tired.

I'm tired of 'can i have', 'i want', 'give me candy/money/dictionary/a cow/my dishes/MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE. You can want and want and want all you want. So I give you a dollar today. That will buy you alcohol and french fries but tomorrow comes and you have no ability to procur anything for yourself. When I give, I'm actually halting development.

Now I certainly don't feel this way about all forms of charity. I was so grateful to receive 500 toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste from Janet and UM Dental School. It was a lesson supplemented by 'teaching aids'. Sure I can talk til the cows come home about the merits of clean teeth, yet who actually has a toothbrush? But when a supposed friend takes you aside to talk and says "When you leave, I really think I deserve all of your dishes", all I can see is RED. I'd be acting far too modest if I didn't say that I mentally called her a dumb-stupid-bitchy-bitch-bitch. First of all, woman, be grateful that I'm helping your children. Second, isn't it a little uncouth to ask for a handout a full YEAR before I'm set to leave? If she's already starting a game of Dibs, then she's got a big, fat surprise coming to learn she's not even getting my leftover COAL.

This anger surprised me. But when 5 minutes later someone asked me for a cow, ohhh gurl. Shit hit the fan. I removed myself from society, locking my door from the outside and closing the curtains. I stayed this way stewing in my own rage, self-pity, and disbelief for about 24 hours. And then, I got over it. Not only did I get over it, I became inspired in new and better ways. I looked at my last year of work, evaluating what has been successful and what's been lacking. I noticed that anytime the group of people receciving 'education' has not asked for it, my job is fruitless. When I attempt to teach children's health in front of 200 mamas at clinic day, I'm disheartened time and again when they continue talking on the side and don't ask questions. Guess what mamas? Not wasting my time anymore! I'm having a news board built and each month I will post the lesson. Those who care will read it and ask the nurse questions. Those who are dying to learn more are most welcome to my house.

I also literally cringed at the idea of entering my life skills classes 3x a week. The kids, while generally enthusiastic, haven't seemed to benefit in the slightest from my lessons on assertive behavior and better communication. But this is a place where I just can't quit. After my weekend of madness, something shifted, and I started viewing progress in a different way. Our new and improved life skills will now consist of community speakers ranging from positive examples (village nurse, successful shop owner) to less desirable outcomes (teenage mothers who dropped out of school, HIV+ people, etc). While the kids can study vague definitions of life skills from a manual and stare at the strangely dressed white girl in front of the room, they can benefit infinity more from their own community advising them.

I was lucky to come out of this black hole not only unscathed, but better off. I doubt that will happen too many more times. There will come a point where I will say, ENOUGH ALREADY. I'm hoping I can maintain my spirit and dedication until the end of my service. Since that day (now 2 weekends ago) life has been brilliant as usual. It wasn't a recovery thing where everyday gets a little better. It was life-altering rage and poof, back to normal. Not sure how healthy that is for my blood pressure (hopefully I've got another decade or 2 before that acts up).

So what about some positive updates?

Status of Toilets-Coming right along! Completion date will be in September. Our carpenter is severely MIA. When we get ahold of him however, he's a great worker and is producing fantastic results.

Chicken Project-Let's say that I've just passed Tanzanian Business Ethics 101. When told that our chicks would arrive at the end of the month, smack in the middle of a 2 week conference in Dar es Salaam), I did not lay down easily. After a marathon texting session with the chicken shop keeper the conversations (translated to English) looked like this..

Monday Afternoon

Shopkeeper: I'm sorry, you will receive your chickens on August 31, 2009.

Me: I am asking for your charity. I will not be there on that day and God and I would be most grateful if we can have them Thursday. Have a lovely afternoon.

Shopkeeper: I will give you the answer later.

Me: Thank you so much. I am so sorry to pester you but this is a project for orphans. We will all be so grateful if you allow us to have the chicks on Thursday.

Shopkeeper: Okay, we will give it our best efforts!

Tuesday 1PM

I walk into the shop and no one is surprised to see me. They all know my name by now and greet me. Again I use every pleasantry I can dream of and apologize for being such an annoyance.

Tuesday 1:10PM

WE'VE GOT A DEAL!!!

As for other goings-on:

Last week, our entire primary school and 6th and 7th grade at our other village primary school received toothbrushes and toothpaste. Roaring succcess!

Women's Batik Business:

Our first meeting was on Sunday. Our group consists of 5 mamas, myself, and my male counterpart. Every person is contributing 10,000 tsh (about $8). On Sunday they'll give 6,000 tsh and have 2 months to turn in the remaining 4,000. A contribution is mandatory in making the women feel like they have a real stake in the project. 10,000 Tsh is a LOT of money. It's not something they can throw around. I knowingly placed this financial burden on them so they'll be reliable, show up, give their best, etc. It's strict, but necessary.

I'm sure other stuff is going on, but I'm currently blanking. For pictures of these projects check out my facebook link:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2620225&id=2205190&l=a99701de32

And that is about that. I'm happy, healthy (well, a little sneezy and snotty-that's just village life), and beyond excited to announce I'll be headed home in DECEMBER for a visit! WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO

xoxo,

Kate

PS-Saturday August 22 is my ONE YEAR anniversary for living in Mhaji village. Wow.

This blog entry is dedicated to everyone who has invested their time, money, and entushiasm in Mhaji village. Our cyberspace bridge connecting America and my tiny, beautiful corner of the world in Tanzania is incredible. Think about it. When we mention the problems in Africa, it's vague, sad, and faceless. Choose a country-Tanzania. Tanzania has a population of 36 million. Still vague, faceless. Choose a region-Iringa, population under 2 million. Now a town-Njombe. Population 50,000. Surrounding Njombe are over 100 villages ranging from a population of 500-several thousand. Now look at Mhaji.

3,861 villagers. 2 primary schools. 5 churches. About 20 small shops. A swamp for fishing. Rolling tea fields nearby. No electricity. Community water spickets (unreliable water availability). Main crops are potatoes and corn. A 2 room health clinic. 18% orphan rate in primary school. Approx 15% AIDS rate. 1 resident white girl. Quiet students in uniform. Ancient women farming acres of land with a hoe and hand. Kind eyes and dirty feet.

Doesn't that just change everything? To see my little pocket of the world makes it real. It also makes philanthropy, empathy, and reality infinitely closer. When we donate to a cause, the money drifts into an abyss. Where does it go? Who does it help? It's important to me that you really see Mhaji. The faces, the drive for self-improvement, the humor, determination, and struggle.

It's a daily privilege to work and live in the thriving/struggling/dying/living/happy/hungry community of Mhaji. It's a community on the brink of unprecedented progress. Mhaji is 25km from Njombe town and within the year electricity will be available. By early 2010,an Italian NGO is bringing clean, flowing water to the village. Living on the front line I see who is motivated, who has potential, and which demographics are alienated or underresourced.

My job is to connect people with education and opportunities. This is where you come in. With the overwhelming enthusiasm of friends, family, and often perfect strangers, WE'RE building sanitary and long-term toilets, raising chickens, starting a women's business orginzation, teaching dental hygiene to students, and planting gardens for orphans and people living with HIV/AIDS. All of these projects have been boosted financially by Americans. And while saying thank you can't suffice, THANK YOU.

Thank you for crossing the bridge. You've reached out, reached so far that your voice is heard in Mhaji every day. Your dollars are an investment in the unending potential of Mhaji village. $150 can start a batik clothing business that may carry on for years. $3000 can prevent a cholera outbreak by maintaining sanitary toilet facilities. $500 can raise 60 chickens and through their eggs, it will support orphans and the school. $50 in seeds can feed a village after a few seasons and change the very face of healthy eating. And your words of encouragement, well there is no price I can put on that. Just know that it's these words and the passion behind them that keeps me motivated. Sure I may physically be in Mhaji, but really, I'm only a liaision. I assumed being a Peace Corps volunteer meant 2 years of isolation and independence. Now I see, the more the merrier! Who knew that a veritable army of American philanthropists could live in a rural, African village. Well, you do! AND you get to skip out on the less glamorous aspects like poop holes and biting army ants in bed!

In the coming weeks, the tangible progress is going to be huge. Deliveries of rocks, bricks, and cement are being made each day for the school toilets. Today, I ordered 60 chicks and purchased all of their vitamins, food and water dishes, and food. The chicks should arrive early August. I promise to heavily photo-document the entire process for your viewing pleasure.

I'm headed off to Tanga in a week to be Peace Corps Volunteer of the week. People have been asking if that's a prize, and while a trophy would be cool, no, it's not a prize. The new health and environment volunteers are at their training site now getting adjusted to TZ culture and learning language basics. My job includes presentations on teaching life skills in the classroom and community and how to work with orphans. More importantly, I'll be there to answer questions, listen to woes, and hopefully make a few new friends. The journey is killer. 1 day of a 12+hr bus ride and the second day a 5 hr ride. But it's worth it!

And now, because my mom will quit my blog if I don't mention it, a quick review of our vacay.

My parents arrived June 13 looking dazed but great! I surprised them at the airport and found so much joy in their questions and 'concerns'. Okay, less joy in the concerns, but it's probably true that I'm so adjusted to the culture, I simply see nothing wrong with a plane that has no gas (It'll work out..) or eating food off the ground (hey, it cost $2!! can't waste)...or forgetting toilet paper (really!).

We spent the first few days in Zanzibar, and it was excellent foresight on my parents part not to let me plan the trip. I would have gladly spent the entire time at the resort. And whoa, resort it was. Our rooms were upgraded, and due to the romance of the beach, atmosphere, and suite, I felt like I was on a honeymoon with myself. I schmoozed it up with the staff, and was offered a job that included food and accommodation once I finish my PC service. Let me just say, TEMPTING. We snorkeled, we ate, we drank, we swam, and we savored. I introduced my dad to Tanzania's famous Safari Lager. You never quite know the alcohol content per bottle and it's not too surprising if a fly is floating on top. Beers here are 500ml, which is about 1.5 the size of American beer. Let's just say after a few Safaris, my dad and I were running around on the beach at 9pm chasing crabs and truly considering a midnight swim. If you know my dad, talk of any activity at midnight is only talk.

After Zanzibar and a cool tour of Stone Town, we headed up to the northern parks for about 75 hours of safaris. Oy. As we say in Swahili...inatosha! ENOUGH!!! It was beautiful however, and even the 10 seater planes of impending death offered nice scenery. After meeting up with my boyfriend in Dar es Salaam we continued together to a final safari and my village.

The final and undisputably best part of the adventure was Mhaji. My counterpart, who is essentailly my TZ father, is also the pastor of the Baptist church. He organized a huge celebration of food, singing, dancing and presents. AMAZING. I'll include those pictures soon. But for now, check out my facebook album.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2607936&id=2205190&l=55a65be2e7

On a final note, I want to give a very, very big hug, round of applause, 1st place medal, and all around THANK YOU to Janet English. She found my blog through a friend's mom, and has been an invaluable resource. Her efforts have so far collected 500 toothbrushes and 500 tubes of toothpaste for my students. She also has raised the money to supplement the villagers payment to build toilets. She infuses me with hope and optimism. It's people like Janet that encourage and help us to dream bigger and better in the scheme of grassroots development. So Janet, thank you for your heart and total kindness and selflessness. You are an honorary PCV in Mhaji!

And thank you to everyone that has contributed to my projects. You are all heroes.

Love,

Kate

Pictures!!

1-My good friend and 7th grader Carolina packing up potato seeds to plant next season.

2-Mariamu sitting on a sack of potatoes ready to be packed and driven to Dar es Salaam. This is my best friends field after all the potatoes have been harvested.

3-Very strong guy carrying a 110 kilo sack on his back. Gives a whole new meaning to sack of potatoes!

4-Agape and Mariamu dancing with cat toys.

5-Mama's Clinic. The first and second Wednesday of each month is mama's health clinic for women with children under 5. At each clinic I give lessons on mother-child health. It's EXTREMELY overwhelming.

6-The row of mama's selling assorted fried foods.

7-My neighborhood kids eating corn stalks. It's like sugar cane, but not as sweet.

8-Getting a "pedicure" in town. $2.25!!!

9-6th tea partay at my house

10-Mariamu and Agape showing off their freshly painted nails!!

GUESS WHAT? My grant was fully funded in just about 10 days. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your genorosity. We're advised that writing Peace Corps Partnership grants is a risky and lengthy way of collecting money. Generally projects can take 2-4 months to fund. We did it in under 2 weeks. I am over the moon grateful, speechless, excited, shocked, thrilled, and ready to get dirty building some toilets! My villagers will be holding meetings, auctions, and generally peer pressuring one another to raise their 25% contribution in the month of June. The plan is to break ground July 1! I will take pictures of every step of the process and post them for your viewing pleasure.

I'll post more about the daily this and that soon.

For now, thanks a million..or should I say, $2,300!?

GUESS WHAT? It's finally online! The grant that feels like I submitted a millenia ago is ready and pleading for your help. If you remember, in February I wrote a grant to build new school toilets. Not only do we not have enough to accomodate nearly 500 students, but between you and me, you'd rather find an airy patch of wilderness to relieve yourself than enter the nausea-inducing captivity of the school toilets. But don't you dare do that, because the last thing my village needs in a cholera outbreak. Anyway, I digress. About a month after submitting the grant, a terrible rainstorm destroyed every single toilet. They literally sunk into the earth. Can you say, pee-yew? The students were then forced to use the two teachers toilets convienently located about 300 meters from my house. Can you say, peeee-yewwwwww? So as you can imagine, the timing was ironic and suddenly extremely immediate. School had to be closed early until new temporary toilets were built by volunteer parents. They're made of wood planks and will probably be suitable for a few more months, max.

My grant, to build 18 new, sparkling toilets is online at this very moment. I need to raise $2,398 and combined with my villagers' pending contribution of about $800 we've got some toilets to build! The goal is to have them ready before the next rainy season in November. We can do this! Usually asking so blatantly for money makes my skin crawl. But this is just too important for reservations. Any contribution is significant. What if you can only donate $5? Hey, that buys a kg of nails! Trust me, every dollar goes to something. And the greatest part is, not a single percent funds cushy administration jobs. It's just me and my village. No middle man sticking his finger in the pot. You can be assured that your contribution will go directly toward labor and materials. For years to come, you will have the satisfaction of having helped children poop safely and hygienically. Now that is something you can brag about at a cocktail party!

The website is www.peacecorps.gov/contribute and select project (Project Number 621-181). The web site is the safest and quickest way to make a donation. You can also make a check payable to Peace Corps Partnership Program and send it to:

Paul D. Coverdell Peace Corps Headquarters

Peace Corps Partnership Program, OPSI

1111 20th Street NW

Washington DC 20526

Be sure to indicate the project number on the check so it will be applied to the correct project. Also, check with your employer to see if they provide matching gifts as many will match your gift dollar for dollar, and remember that your gift supporting this project is tax-deductible!

Together we can prevent diseases like typhoid, cholera, and classroom tardiness. By building sufficient toilets, it is not a stretch to say the quality of thousands of students over the next 10 years will be improved. Just imagine a Save Our Children commercial with the slogan, 'Help our Children Poop Safely!' Catchy, ya? Alright, get outta here and go to the donation website!

A million hugs, Kate

May 3, 2009

No need to read this entry with one hand over your eyes. Unlike the entry below (read that one first!) there is no mention of death, funerals, or dingy government hospitals. This is an entry of hope and a few rays of sunshine as we leave the long rainy season behind. Before you cue the Barney the Dinosaur soundtrack and I ask everyone to hold hands, give me some time to explain. April was a watershed month in productivity. Of course for every hour of work, there are 4 more of Sudoku, day dreaming, and reading the same People magazine for the 35th time. April was a month of Life Skills and English classes, grant writing, and well...there's no snappy two-word name for the rest of it. I'll highlight a few of my favorite current projects.

Chicken Raising-

You've been hearing for awhile about my intentions to raise chickens at the primary school. It's coming together so well! I submitted my grant to Peace Corps-Dar es Salaam almost two weeks ago. After many, many emails of minute and agonizing questions, the grant will pass through inspection with ease and after approximately one month, the $500 maximum limit for this type of grant will be deposited in my bank account. Then the real fun will begin! There is only a small snag in this fabulous plan. It seems my grant has lost somewhere in transit. Whether the Tanzanian postal service 'misplaced' it or it's simply buried under other files in the Peace Corps office, it is M.I.A. In America, this would be terms for absolute fury. Wrath I tell you. A grant, practically my infant child, has gone missing. As you may have guessed, there are no Amber Alerts in Tanzania, and there is also no rush. I will simply mail it again on Monday. Of course it's stressful, and will most certainly push back my start date by a month, I've just gotta roll with the punches. I will keep you all posted on the status of progress.

Upendo Consultations-

Upendo is a word in Swahili that means like or love. It's a pretty dangerous word to have a double meaning. Lots of mixed messages, let me tell you! Anyway, after organizing an orphan census at Mhaji Primary School and reeling by the statistics: 17% of children have lost one of both parents, there are 65 children with one parent and 15 with none, I decided to take action. Although the profit from chicken raising and egg selling will benefit those without parents, who is going to show them some love? I created a new notebook (love doing that!) to chart the progress and condition of every child without parents. I devised a list of questions ranging from how old are you, when did your parents die, do you sleep on the floor or in a bed, what do you eat in the morning and evening, what work do you do at home, etc. Of 15 orphans, one girl, Yunis, the sweetest, meekest child born with a birth defect that left her without a nose, knows her birthday. Some, albeit the younger ones, couldn't even tell me their age. But let's talk about Yunis. Yunis stopped attending school for nearly a year because a former teacher would call on her in class by saying 'Pua' or 'Nose'. She now lives with her teenage sister and her sister's infant child. After school, she heads straight to the farm to weed the corn, which will be the primary source of food for the next year. This is a child who could use some Upendo.

Yunis's missing nose might make her stand out, but the rest of the children are just as scarred. One 10 year old girl lost both parents and her youngest sibling in 2008. All at separate times. Honestly, how do these children endure? Where is that inner source of strength that keeps them stone-faced and brave? Who holds their hand when they're scared and who tells them they have really great handwriting or kick a ball better than any other kid? This is where I come in. Each month I will meet with them one-on-one to check their pulse, so to speak. I'm not sure if they'll ever open up to me, but it's important to know there is someone doting on them. 1 of the 15 children told me he occasionally eats meat or rice, and he may have been lying. Most eat nothing in the morning and in the evening have ugali and a basic leafy green. In case you forgot ugali is corn flour and water turned into a playdough like substance and eaten with your right hand. It can be tasty but has very little nutritional value.

So here is my newest idea. I'm going to start a vegetable garden with the orphans! They will learn how to plant and grow something other than corn and in turn they will take the vegetables home. It would be great to teach them to grow and eat a traditional American salad. Okay, I know this is where every single person that even remotely knows me snickers. You're saying, Kate Elizabeth Glantz, the Happy Meal Queen. What does she know about a traditional American salad? Ya, you're right but I'm turning over new pages everday, so just work with me on this! If anyone would be interested in supporting me in this endeavor, it would be greatly apprecaited. Seeds aren't extremely expensive, but they certainly go beyond my monthly stipend. Because I already have 2 grants open and the capitol needed is relatively small, this is not something that would require the lengthy paperwork of grants. I probably should have looked into this before writing, as I don't know what customs says about sending seeds across borders. (Hey dad, look into this okay?) Anyway, it's also difficult to find a variety of seeds here. Vegetables like lettuce, peppers, zuchini, etc is extremely hard and/or expensive to purchase. If anyone is interested in sending seeds or a very small contribution to help me with this, please send me an email at Kateglantz@gmail.com or leave a comment with contact information on my blog. My parents will be visiting me in June, so sending something within the US would be far more efficient than the cross your fingers luck of the TZ postal service. Then it will be in their hands if they get caught smuggling seeds into Tanzania! That would be a fun start to vacay!

Health Question Box-

One day, sitting on the back of my bicycle 'taxi' to my village, I got to talking with the driver. He was asking me so many questions about AIDS and sex. We are friends so he felt secure in speaking his mind. This amazing and open dialogue got me thinking about the potentially hundreds of villagers that have never been comfortable to so much as say good morning to me. I'm pretty intimdating, don't you think?! Anyway, I started wondering how I could get this silent demographic to warm up. At every government and school office there is a wooden suggestion box. It's the weirdest 1st world tradition to steal. Probably the British that left it behind, those Brits and their politeness. I decided what better way to get a rise out of people than put health ' suggestion boxes' in the most social centers of the village. I immediately ordered two boxes equipped with lock and key and a set of instructions to be posted next to the box. The instructions, although in Swahili, roughly translate to 'Do you have a question about health? Feel free to ask anything about diseases like AIDS, nutrition, family planning, etc. This could all be done anonymously and I promised to post the answers on the wall each week. That way, even people not asking questions have the potential to learn. And because the boxes and answers are in very public places, people will be more apt to discuss the issues together. After one week I got some great questions, some ridiculous ones clearly written by a prankster, and a contigent of drunk men that banded together and word for word copied the same letter, asking me to build them a toilet at the village bar! It's actually a really legitimate request. Whild I have no intention of given them a cent, I will speak with a local leader to see about organizing a day to build one themselves. If they do it efficiently, I might just rescind on my claim of never buying anyone local brew, and have a party for all. 20 Liters of the local stuff would cost me about $8.

6 and 7th grade Tea Parties-

I've mentioned this adorable event before, but there is a new, and slightly funny twist. I had intended the monthly tea parties to be only for the oldest girls, Standard 7. But this month, to put it nicely all of the 7th grade were apathetic little assholes. Ya, I know I just called African children assholes, but teenagers are teenagers wherever you are. The 6th graders, however, really impressed me this month with their attention span and responsiveness to questions and class activities. I had planned to have the 7th grade tea party last Sunday. But as Thursday's class came to a close, I snapped. I told them, pole sana (I'm very sorry) but you do not deserve your tea party this Sunday. We'll see how you do next Thursday and go from there. But then I realized, why not choose the best class each month to treat to the party? It's a very American concept. Bribery, incentive, competion. But I think it just might work. I actually have to hurry home soon to fire up the little charcoal stove and get huge vats of tea boiling. I think it's going to be great!

Village AIDS Testing Day-

On May 21, an NGO from Njombe is coming to my village to perform free AIDS testing to all who come. I'm really excited about this and hope the response is heavy. My goal is for 300 people to be tested. This number is actually quite low but I have no way to judge interest as it's the first testing day. Once the results are in, all who are HIV positive can immediately start treatment. I know it might sound weird or even apathetic that I'm not worried who has HIV. Come on, 15% of my region has it. It's a fact of life, and it's too late for them to teach prevention. For those living unknowingly, they must be tested. If anything they can start having safe sex and prevent their partners current and future from contracting the disease. They can also start ensuring a longer life by beginning ARVs. I have faith it's going to be a great day!

So that's the update. When I'm not doing something productive or relaxing at home, I'm being eaten alive by the cutest children on the planet. They totally know they own me. While most children are scared or simply unwaveringly polite, my rag tag neighbor children literally walk all over me and I love it. Whenever I come home from town or even leave my house for the first time in the morning I get a swarm of children running full force at me, arms extended wide to line up for hugs. I know I've mentioned that I've taught them how to blow kisses when we say goodbye, but HOW CUTE IS THAT? In their little kiddie voices they say 'Kayteeee, byeeeee' and blow kisses until I'm out of sight. One little girl, I'll admit, my very favorite, somewhere picked up the very Euro action of a kiss on each cheek. This is a 4-year old village child we're talking about. Where the hell did she learn how to great like a French woman? These kids just make every inconvience or frustration worth it

And now that you're sufficiently up to speed, it's time to mess around on Facebook before my internet time runs out. Lots of love to you and you and you!

April 25, 2009

Long time no type. I have every intention of being an attentive and informative blogger but in many ways my life has normalized into a routine not worth mention. While nothing I do is common, it's now commonplace. If everyday is a sensation than somewhere it runs into a pattern of normalcy. It's been 10 months in a 3rd world village and I can really hang. Spiders in the house, so what? Ants in my food, pick them out. Twelve hour bus rides of terror, hey that's just Point A to B. However, there are some things that will never cease to make my stomach turn. In recent weeks I have seen too much truth. The Tanzanian health care system outwardly seems progressive. Treatment is free and medicine as well. But first you have to find a doctor to look at you. A Peace Corps friend of mine recently showed up in town at 10 pm with a dying child. In the dank, hardly lit hospital 10pm certainly felt to them like the last hour. There was one doctor and one nurse on staff for the entire hospital. The fact is, no bribe, no rush. Because the family decided not to slip a few thousand shillings in the doctor's pocket, his fate would have to wait until morning rounds. It took about 48+ hours of a gaggle of Swahili speaking, partially jaded by Tanzania Peace Corps Volunteers making a scene to get this child a blood transfusion. He finally got one, but what about the little girl dying next to him? Without too much graphic detail, this girl, probably around 12 years old was in and out of consciousness, lips swollen so large her mouth was never quite closed. Instead, the most horrible, desperate gasps heaved themselves from her mouth like a pathetic plea for help. Where was her contingent of 'white knights' by her bedside? Next to her was a tired looking father, a little nervous and very confused at the constant train of wazungu trickling in and out of the hospital to look at one otherwise not unique child.

Back to the boy who needed blood. Once he received his transfusion there was a massive sigh of relief. He would live and we wouldn't have to awkwardly comfort another family or another friend who has lost a child too soon. A week passed and his condition worsened. He was essentially in a coma. Apparently once you've received a blood transfusion it's essential to check the hemoglobin count again only hours later. This was not done for one week. One WEEK. What did his h.g. count say? Well, it was just about high enough for a toddler. This boy is 16 years old. There is no climax to this story. To be honest, I haven't asked my friend about his condition. Life doesn't stop for one boy.

In fact, while I was visiting this boy in the hospital, completely unbeknownst to me, one of my own 7th grade students was lying nearby in a hospital bed. He died. What do children die of in Tanzania? Very good question. If you did a survey of death certificates, it would say 'flu' or 'anemia' as well as any other variety of common non-life threatening ailments. It should say BULLSHIT. These children are malnourished, have leaky faucets for noses, and simple infections turn into life threatening emergencies due to lack of education, neglect, poverty, and fucked up government hospitals. Excuse the language, clearly I'm a bit worked up. But I know you would be too.

Let's talk about a Tanzanian mourning party! The day a person dies, in my story, the 13 year old boy from my village, the body is taken to a room of the family's house. The boy was placed on a bed in a small room with dirt floors. His body, covered in two wool blankets. The floor; covered in straw mats. All of the women relatives and children in the family sit on the floor and wail. Screaming incoherently, banging their fists, spit flying from mouths in fervor. It's absolutely horrifying. My first thought-get me out of here! I wasn't emotional, just freaked out. As the women really let go, I stared at the body. It was the first dead body I had ever seen, let alone sat two feet from. I could see his rigid outline under the blanket. His joints stiffened in death left the imprint of small knees and boney elbows through the blanket. After about 20 minutes of averting eye contact with everything with a pulse, it was time for all of the 7th grade students to say goodybe. The blanket was lifted and his face was exposed. WHOA, was not expecting that. I wasn't scared and not too uncomfortable. It was sorta nice seeing a very real face to a very real dead body. What came next was heartbreaking. The students came in one by one to wave goodbye. This being Africa with a village funeral nearly every day, I was sure the children were hardened pros. I think I overestimated that sometimes, children are children no matter where you are. Some cried, some were stoic, but to my complete surprise, some were scared senseless. They scampered in and out like a deer in the headlights, absolutely horrified at the site of their dead friend. Try that ritual in America and you'd have a lot of kids in counseling! Finally, one girl said a few words to the deceased boy which for some reason was so touching. In the midst of confusion and fear, a 13 year old girl said goodbye in a manner so moving yet simple, I couldn't help but sniffle and and shed a few tears. Finally, it was time to get up, put our shoes on and sit outside with the grieving men for a few moments. I was served chai and then I left. I didn't attend the funeral because I had to teach. Death is so strange.

I'm back. I was never really far away, just have lost the motivation absolutely critical to a fulfilling post. I'll try my best today, but will be cheating a little...You'll see how soon.

To say March has been busy would drastically over-exaggerate my pace of life. I generally am going to and fro between town, a village meeting, or Peace Corps 'social event' but somehow seem to have the hours to read several books a week. Much like a cat, I can lose afternoons to watching the precise line of ants move across my living room floor or watching the clouds bend and twist like balloon animals.

Will I ever learn to negotiate the strange folds of time or will she continue to manipulate me? I'm assuming the latter. A day can be the most excruciatingly epic experience while the last 9 MONTHS in Tanzania have been a blink. Not much has changed in the village. I teach a few days a week, I play with my gaggle of rag tag kids building mud pies or coloring. I eat my neighbors food sheepishly but with gusto. I talk about hookers with old drunk men and how to get a girl to like you with young guys. I play sports with kids and make cookies for friends. I don't really know if any of this consitutes as work. But then again 2/3 goals of Peace Corps are to allow another culture to understand yours and to understand another people's culture. If this is work, it's pretty fun!

I've been experiencing a lot of guilt recently...well always. If I spend a great day in town and don't want to leave, I usually end up staying another day but beat myself up for at least 6 hours. Joining the Peace Corps I was ready to sign away all hope for friends, entertainment, and any luxuries of my previous life (pizza, internet, pedicures). I expected to live in a village for 2 years and tie up the whole package with a nice little bow. I would look back one day at the Peace Corps "experience" as grueling and eye-opening. I would remember my hardships and smile with pride. Instead, I am living in a foggy, faded but still recognizable lifestyle. I'm not the replica Peace Corps brochure tanned, rugged girl staring into the face of poverty and lifting all out of oppression. Ha, are you kidding me? My villagers help me understand far more than I've been able to teach them. But somehow, I think I'm going to manage.

Some recent events of notice:

2 Sundays ago I had a 7th grade tea party. All girls from Standard 7 were invited to my house for tea, snacks, and girl talk. For about 2 hours we read health magazines in Swahili, told jokes, and even practiced some English. In a word: PRECIOUS. Can't wait for next months fiesta...or should I say sherehe?

I was robbed...again. Coming back from a short trip, some very crafty little thief removed my bag from the bus. In it was money, clothes (TOWN CLOTHES aka normal clothes), camera battery/charger (hence no pictures will be posted for awhile), and assorted items that while of insignificant monetary value, meant a lot to have away from home. Take home sentiment: I hate thieves. They have such power here. If someone decides to take something from me I have virtually no option and there are absolutely NO consequences. Oh unless that person is caught in the act...then they are beaten to death. Ultimately, I'd rather be out a few tshirts than have blood on my hands.

I'm helping a friend in the village start a 'coffee shop.' Before you think of ice blended mochas and carrot cake, let me define 'coffee shop'. It's called an Mghahawa and is basically a small restaurant that serves snack food. In Tanzania it means chai tea and fried carbs. Knowing very, very, I repeat, practically nothing about business we're going to take it slow. One thing I do know, however, is that a successful business means beating the competion by providing something quality that they don't have. What does this mean? BANANA BREAD! It's a fruit that is cheap and plentiful and we're ready to capitalize. :) I'll keep you posted...

How's this for strange timing? About 3 days after I submitted a grant to build new, quality toilets at my primary school, our entire toilet building collapsed into the ground during a rainstorm. Two days later scores of parents and village leaders were digging trenches for temporary toilets. In a few short weeks I'll give everyone the down low on how to help me build these fabulous new toilets! No shovel required.

In Tanzanian culture, when someone is sick it is mandatory you visit and 'look' at them. Yes, the way it translates is "Have you gone to look at the sick person yet" "Yes, I went yesterday, and today, and I'm going this evening as well." As Americans can you think of anything worse than 10 people gathering around you after you've puked your brains out or have diareah so badly it's more efficient to nap on the toilet? No probably not. While in college I might get out of things by saying I have a headache, I will go to any length to hide the fact I'm feeling under the weather. I recently had to look at a sick friend. It was quite pathetic. She was laying on a straw mat in her corn field sleeping. As I approached her temporary care takers insisted on waking the poor woman up so she would know I had arrived. I wanted to shout "Let the woman rest!" but instead waited patiently for her to stir awake and tell me how she already had recovered. It's absolutely one of the most awkward song and dances of Tanzanian culture.

I want to end with an essay one of my students wrote. He's not technically my student as he studies at a school a few hours walk from my house. He is in the equivalent of 11th grade. Incidentally, he happens to be one of the poorest and brightest kids I know. He approached me last year and matter-of-factly told me he needs to learn more English but has nothing to pay me. I shrugged and said sure come over next week, assuming he'd flake or we would spend hours with basic introduction. He appeared dutifully the following week, in a crisply ironed shirt armed with notebook, pen, and a lot of determination. We ended up meeting twice a week during his vacation and by the end of Day 1 this kid had blown me away. He is FLUENT in English. And with no help from teachers. He studied by lantern for hours every night memorizing the dictionary and exercise books of his older brother. His poverty is so great that he cannot afford to sleep at the school where he studies. Instead he boards with a family who forces him to bring his food from our village and cook it all on his own. Preparing a single meal in Tanzania can take up to 3 hours which simply cannot be spared for a dedicated student. We've worked out a deal in which I pay for the family to cook his food if he promises all As and Bs. He has a notebook that's just between us in which he talks about his goals, challenges, and dreams...all in English. After a visit last weekend, he forgot the notebook. I flipped it open and immidiately was drawn to this essay. Remember this kid is in 11th grade, speaks more English than anyone at his school (INCLUDING his teachers), and has absolutely nothing nothing nothing.

This is his exact essay, and for authenticity I'm not changing any spelling errors.

"This Time Tomorrow"

Everyday when waking up before leaving for school, I begin thinking about where shall I be this time tomorrow?

It is very difficult for Tanzanians to ask themselves such a question. For if we did, Development in Tanzania would grow rapidly. No one would live in the slums. I'm one of the people who live in the slum. My life is so wonderful that I don't like to go home with my friends with me. I still tell my friends that someday I'll show them our house, but it is untrue I will not.

A lot of students think that my parents are very rich, able to send me to a trition during the holidays but, this has been a secrete to me. I don't like to tell them directly that I'm poor for I may feel myself elianated.

I sometimes think if I was a president, what I would to my citizens andhow I would raise the standard living of the people in the slums. People in the slums are said to be less educated than those in developed towns. They dig, they plant, they weed, they fertilize, and they harvest and they then sell these products at low price to the rich people without considering how much (money) they spent on buying fertilisers and how much they sell their products. It is how development in the slums is stagnated. The position of the president would change development in the slums because it is he/she who controls all activities in the country.

"Where shall I be this time tomorrow? " I say to myself, I want to know tomorrow and not yesterday.

____________________

WOW, right? And that's my answer...Guilt, poverty, privilege, blah blah blah. This kid is why I'm here.

Love to everyone!

Katie

Because I'm not motivated enough to spin any tales today...PICTURES

1. Some of my favorite kiddies.2. My village nurse's big town wedding.3. Decades costume party in Iringa4. Mariamu making faces.5. 7th grade girls building a road (I helped!)

For more pictures click here! http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2541912&id=2205190&l=b3bbd

And here we go. Because my ability to string cohesive sentences together has mysteriously gone missing, I'll do my best to get the basic points across. Every day is slightly more ridiculous than the last and guess what? I'm not complaining!

Highlights since Iringa In-Service Training:

About two weeks ago I cooked lunch for 500 students. Yep. The girl who eats spoonfuls of peanut butter and dry oatmeal for dinner can sure find her way around a kitchen...err, 'outdoor cooking area'. Imagine a cauldron. Essentially the biggest pot you've ever seen. A pot large enough for at least 5 small children to sit in. Let's call it a cauldron though, more fun that way. Also some foreshadowing into a bit of Harry Potter-esque sorcery fiascos...(Are you hooked yet?)

I arrived to the 'outdoor cooking vicinity' at 7am. Myself and Mama Mpishi (Translates: Mama Chef) grabbed 20L buckets and headed in search of the nearest working water source. Thankfully it was only about a 3 minute walk. After filling about 10 buckets, we were set. We then collected pieces of firewood (or small trees) to build a fire. I'm sure I've described this before, but here's a refresher course on large-scale Tanzanian food prep. Imagine three large rocks, not boulders-not pebbles. Let's throw out a number-10 lbs each and maybe about a foot long. Arrange them into a triangle formation with about 1 foot space in the center. (Sorry for any non-Americans...but it's not my fault I don't understand metric.) Now you place your cauldron on top of the rocks. From every opening in the triangle you slide long piece of wood and get a nice little fire going. The amount of smoke is unbelievable. Your eyes burn, your throat burns, but most of all there is a horrible tickle in your nose that makes you wiggle it constantly to achieve relief. It doesn't come. That's when you take your cute white butt out of the kitchen and stand to the side while Mama Mpishi does the dirty work.

The corn and beans, all 200+ lbs of it are divvied into the three cauldrons. About 60L of water goes in to start. After about 4 hours the water has come to a boil! Then we add salt (NOT IODIZED THANK YOU VERY MUCH). And finally, the very best part...stirring! There is a wooden plank about 10 feet long that serves perfectly as a spoon. Any splinters or creatures on the plank just add flavor naturally.

Around 12:45 pm our work is almost done. Six students arrive and with leaves and grass as oven mits, lift the boiling concoction called Kande from the fire. The lunch bell rings and a stampede of students can be felt from across campus. They line up girls on one side boys on the other by age. CUTE CUTE CUTE. I insisted on participating from start to finish so I took my place in front of the boys and slopped food onto about 250 plates. In 15 minutes. If all else fails in life, I'm fairly certain I could make a pretty good showing as Lunch Lady.

The local salooni (or barbshop) is a hub of young guys with stories to tell and the time to do it. The village barber, also one of my English students, happens to be one of the nicest guys around. How do I know this? He's never once asked to marry me. Because he cuts hair, it's imperative to have a generator working during the day. Trust me, that is rare. I generally charge my cell phone at his shop and last week decided to hang around until it was ready. After the barrage of questions and comments from 18-25 year old guys ("So you're 15 right?" "What kind of crops are there in America?" "Why are you working for free?" "How do I talk to girls?" "Will you help me find a wife?" "Will you be my wife?" and so on) I decided to get a little education of my own. I boldly insisted I was a whiz with the hair razors and for everyone to take the afternoon off, I'm in charge now. Of course they thought it was a fantastic idea. For the next 2 hours I trimmed beards, applied baby powder, and attracted the attention of everyone in a 500 ft radius. It was AWESOME.

As for real work, it's going pretty well! I teach life skills three days a week and adult English once a week. I'm working on a grant to build new school toilets and will soon start the process of acquiring 100 chickens to raise at the primary school! Farmer Kate is about to have a chicken farm! The objective in buying an obscene amount of chickens is to sell their eggs in town. This way, once I leave, the school will be able to receive reliable income for projects like electricity, expanding the garden, and providing supplies for orphans. It's going to be great!

I left my notebook with 'blog-worthy' anecdotes at home so I'll sum up with a harrowing tale of witchcraft. From January-April 2008, there was a pretty severe problem with possessed children at the primary school. Almost every day a handful of girls would simply drop to the ground unconscious. They would speak with their eyes closed and say something along the lines of, "I'm not Sarah, Sarah is in the field farming now. She'll be back later. I'm Mwalimu X." Every child would name the same teacher who happened to be the wife of the principal. Sometimes the kids would get violent. They'd take off running down the road screaming and punching anyone that got in their way. When they came to, they wouldn't remember a thing and many insisted they had never passed out.

In April, a group of villagers got drunk and stormed the principal's house with machetes, knives, and firewood. After breaking down the door and beating her to near death, she escaped and ran to the village office. She spent a week in the hospital and recovered. Of course, the family was forced to flee. For nearly two months, the village had no principal as all were too afraid to come. Finally in June a new family came, and thank goodness for it, because they are now my family. The faintings stopped and life returned to normal.

Why am I talking about the past? Well, I had heard only bits and pieces of this story until the former Peace Corps volunteer in my village came back to live for a few months. She gave me the full scoop and I was naturally shocked. Well how's this for creepy...the next day one girl fell. And the next day 2 more. And again last week, I found a girl unconscious on the ground. Ahhh. I can't say I believe in sourcery, but the villagers certainly do. There is a certain fear derived from their fear. Although I know it's probably just a pyscho-social chain reaction, their fear is so pure that it absolutely gets me on edge. As long as no one starts naming Mwalimu Katie as the witch, I'm going to be just fine.

More to come soon, but I have 58 seconds left until my internet cuts. Lots of love to everyone!

And a special shout-out to the Maletics. Mr. and Mrs. Maletic, thank you so much for your support and kind words. But mostly, thank you for paying Emily's phone bill and allowing her to send me international texts with great frequency! Emily, get yourself to the village already.

xoxo

I have completely and utterly neglected my blog for ages now. My intentions are always to update but time in its crazy way has escaped me yet again.

I promise, promise next weekend or shortly thereafter a full update will be posted. For now know that I'm healthy, happy, and thinking about all of you.

XOXO

With only two days to go of In Service Training, the best word to describe my experience is: spent. Meetings begin at 8am everyday and last until 4-6pm each evening. Everything is discussed in English, Swahili, and many variations of Swahinglish. The topics, some interesting, some repulsive range from creating income generation projects for orphans, the relationship between TB and HIV, and the gag-worthy consequences of STI's and irresponsible sex. Needless to say, there has been a barrage of information and it is not unlikely that quite a bit has been lost in translation. Each volunteer has been joined by one Tanzanian from our village and selected as our counterpart, whether temporary or for the duration of our service.

My counterpart is amaaazing. He is the Baptist pastor in Mhaji but is also one of two leaders in the People Living With HIV/AIDS group I now work with. Tanzania is an extremely religious country, and for a pastor to advocate equality and support for all living with HIV, it is nothing short of very special. Although I only plan on working with him for projects regarding AIDS, I couldn't have chosen a more reliable, kind-spirited, and supportive counterpart. He's also REALLY tiny. I hope this information makes you smile as much as it does me: Everyday, no matter the outfit, Milton wears a red belt. This belt is so large that he has to tuck it into every belt hole in his pants until it reaches the middle of his back. He also is an very enthusiastic clapper.

Yesterday, as everyone in the entire world knows, was Obama's innaugaration. As you can imagine, it was a most unusual occasion to observe in Africa. About half of our group decided to watch it at a local Tanzanian bar that serves up some amazing goat. I sat at the main bar for awhile, chatting with people, watching the TV and drinking a cold Tanzanian beer. As Obama began to speak, I pushed myself through the crowd and into a small side room with a TV. At first, I sat on the floor, eyes glued. A barmaid immediately stood up and pushed me into her seat. As I fell in the wooden chair with tattered cushion and no seat cover, against the wall and at an extremely awkward view of the tv inside an iron cage suspended from the ceiling, Tanzania fell away.

Ok, I lied, Tanzania never really falls away. The man next to me persistently slurped his goat soup, barmaids screamed across the room at eachother, and a lone cockroach meandered up and down the wall, only inches from my face. Beyond that, however, I was lost in the moment. As Barak Obama promised to put science to it's proper use and harness natural energy, as he acknowledged those sitting in villages waiting for change to come, I was overwhelmed. I was proud. I was excited. This is a man who made me cry, not from embarassment or shame, but for instilling hope and possibility. The room was spellbound and the night electric. KARIBU SANA BARAKA OBAMA, RAIS WETU MMPYA (A huge welcome to Barak Obama, our new president).

There is one idea I'd like to share with everyone that came from a cross-cultural session we had this morning. We were split into groups: Tanzanians and Americans. We were given a scenario of a post-apocalyptic situation in which 11 people remained to propegate the species. The only remaining safe haven had space enough for 5 people. After receiving small biographies of each person, it was then our duty to kill the other 6. We quickly killed anyone past child-bearing age, of extreme religious persuasion, and let the prostitute, single mother, and teenage boy who believed in abortion to survive. Among those not so fortunate were a 6month-old healthy baby, a middle-aged priest, and 71 year-old doctor, and the 37 year-old wife of a professor we let live. Not a shocking conclusion for young, liberal Americans. Prostitutes can have big hearts and single mothers are survivors!

Who did the Tanzanians keep? The pastor, the married couple and their 6 month-old child, and a teenage boy. How will the species continue? The priest can't have sex, the mother has 2, maybe 3 years of fertility left, and one day in about 15 years the little girl can make babies with the one remaining boy that is not her FATHER. OY VEY. The Tanzanians that decided this are not stupid, in fact, they're extremely intelligent and among the most respected citizens in their village. They were simply trying to form the most reputable group of people to continue the human race. The prostitute, although she had nurses training, was of ill-character and must not reflect the future. The priest, 56-year old and unable to procreate was valued highest as a spiritual necessity. And naturally, the family cannot be spared.

These decisions sparked a bit of fierce debate among the Americans and our counterparts. The take-home story, 'everyone is right and it's a matter of how you were raised blah blah' is not the moral here. What I noticed is that Tanzanians firmly, stead-fastly believe in their choices. And not just in this silly game. There is a single way to do everything and deviating from the point is excruciating.

While this may provoke discomfort or confusion, I really believe that as Americans we will be able to empathize (if not agreeing with) our Tanzanian communities, more than they are willing or capable of empathizing with us. Granted, this skill is a luxury derived from media, moderate wealth in comparison, and American schooling, it has become apparent in my daily activities. Two-years is not long enough to change behavior on a large scale. But behavior change is probably the most imporant facet of my contribution in Peace Corps. If I can teach people why it's important to brush your teeth twice and day and people actually follow through, or if using condoms is mandatory every time, and maybe 1 prostitute listens, well that's going to be a bigger victory than throwing money at the problem or simply getting frustrated and moving on to something else.

I have 3 minutes left on internet so here's a round-up on my social life: DISCO, DISCO, DISCO, goat, beer, DISCO, goat, friends, beer, goat, friends.

Lots of love!

Kate

Vacation was amazing. I beached, I ate, I danced, I explored. And now I'm headed back to the village for only FIVE days until our In-Service Training in Iringa. Because my bus leaves soon and I have a stye in my eye so large I can hardly see the computer screen, I'll break down the trip by its highlights:

Places visited:

1. Njombe for Christmas

2. Morogoro town

3. Dar es Salaam

4. Kipepeo Beach

Transportation Totals:

1. Bus-22 hours

2. Taxi-2 hours

3. Dala-Dalas-2 hours

4. Ferry-30 minutes

5-Feet-?

Food and Beverages:

1. Hamburgers-3

2. Chicken Nuggets-8

3. Spring Rolls-6

4. Pizza-2

5. All-inclusive champagne breakfast-1

6. Beers-40?

7. Bottle of Tanzanian Gin-1

Recreation:

1. Bouncing in the waves

2. Dancing at a Bollywood disco

3. Parousing the fish market

4. Skinny dipping in the Indian Ocean

5. Staring at items in the grocery store (choosing anything to buy would have been too overwhelming)

6. Reading O magazine

7. Air-Conditioning

8. Hitch-hiking with foreign embassy cars in Dar

9. Staring unabashedly at white people

10. Going to the MALL!

Vacation was a smashing success. I enjoyed a lot of R&R, explored more of the country, and had amazing food. I am now a proud devotee of Indian cuisine! WHAT?

Village highlight:

Returning home from a day in Njombe I was talking to my bus driver and told him that in America I knew how to drive. He, like everyone else, thought that was pretty funny and of course didn't believe me. I told him one day, I would drive his bus. The conversation changed and I thought nothing of it.

When we had arrived at the village neighboring mine and most people had unloaded, he stopped the car and told me it was my turn! I took a deep breath, got behind the wheel and proceded to offroad in the village bus for about 10 minutes! It was AWESOME. I did learn that the brakes were almost non-existent, something I probably would have rather been blissfully ignorant to. I tried to tell some village friends about my adventure, but no one believed me! Oh well.

Headed back home in about 1 hour. Sunday, however, begins a two-week long conference in Iringa town (about 3 hours from Njombe) that will kick off my official job. I'm bringing a counterpart from my village and we'll be learning about implementing AIDS education, permaculture (google it-it's an awesome concept), and grant writing. After the meeting finishes on January 24, I'll be absolutely ready and charged to start projects and begin turning the wheels of change. Woohoo.

Have a great week everyone and remember, I'm only a skype away!

#- +255-0787788683

Katie

My dear, beautiful, intelligent, wonderful friends,

I'm alive, well, and as cheery (and fat) as Santa at CeCe's pizza.

I know that Christmas is the time for Jesus, presents, and Mariah Carey, but I'm hijacking it and remixing it with a Thanksgiving flare.

Today I want to tell you how thankful I am to have you all in my life, even if you are at the edge of the world (oh wait, it's ME at the edge of the world).

What would I do without your letters, text messages, phone calls, and packages? I'd be okay, sure, but they definitely keep the pep in my village step. More than anything now, it's the memories. Dazing off in a sea of cornstalks or better yet, in a five-hour meeting, my mind creeps back to senior year of college, freshman year of college, high school, and gasp, sometimes in my dreams, middle school. Wow, have we had fun.

We've had crazy fun. Reckless fun. Drunken fun. Wild fun. Foreign fun. Naked fun? Good clean fun. Food-binge fun. Marathon TV fun. Party fun. Pajama fun. Study fun. Adventure fun. Travel fun. Holiday fun. Crystal Light and Vodka fun. Gosh have we had fun.

I hear all the time that God is watching over Americans. I don't know if that's true but I know enough to know I don't understand how good I've had it. We have been privileged to the biggest luxury of all: time. We've generally got it in spades. Now that most of you have entered the real world, the 'luxury' of laying in bed til 3pm on a Tuesday is no longer an option. But generally, if you need to pencil in a little Sunday afternoon me time, it's there.

In Tanzania me time is forever we time. I'll spare you the history lesson, but African communities are collectivist, not individualist, and it's practically unheard of for an unmarried girl (yours truly) to live alone. When you live as an extended and agricultural family the work is never done. Even on Sundays, cooking and cleaning cannot be escaped. Order a pizza right? Oh, if only. Cooking takes about 3 hours per meal and cleaning is just as strenuous. There is a ritual here of sweeping dirt. It doesn't sound strange to write that now, but I remember being incredulous in the beginning so it seems valid to mention.

What I'm getting at is wow. We have made so many memories! We had the time to let the good times roll. And roll and roll and roll they did. I am literally brimming with shared moments and know that in my life there will always be time to make more. I get pretty sad sometimes thinking that my friends and family in the village never catch a break. Granted, they find more pleasure in the moment than I am capable of, it is no wonder 'take a load off' just doesn't tranlsate no matter how you dice it.

So today, I'm saying thanks. Thanks for time. Thanks for friends. Thanks for all the great things that transpired when we used our time wisely and more often, when we did not. I could probably manage without you. After all, I've taken a profound liking to talking to myself in voices. But I'm not living in a village in Africa to be a martyr. I have no intention of shaving my head and shunning the white people!

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I didn't postpone my life, I only relocated it. I have no intention of letting any of my friendships fall by the wayside. I think about you all often and with so much happiness. For living in the bush, I'm pretty persisent about communication. Even if you want to make a sneaky exit from my life, I won't let you! But that's not going to happen right?

Wherever you are and whoever you're with, happy holidays. Take it all in and enjoy. While I might be killing my dinner on Christmas Eve (and wouldn't have it any other way), I'll be thinking about every one of you. But in case I forget, you should probably give me a call to remind me of your name.

Here is a big hug for all of you. Cheers to friends!

Your pal,

Kate

Get comfortable, this is going to be a big update! Before I get distracted, let's start with the title. My solar charger has been out of commission for over a month now. This disturbing news means charging my cell phone has become difficult and my ipod, nearly impossible. By default, I now have a new, yet rocky relationship with Tanzanian radio and short wave. There are essentially three stations. One is hard core bad music. The other is a mix of Tanzanian rap, traditional Tanzanian music (read: awful), and American rap with absolutely no censoring whatsoever. The final, Radio Free Africa is good, plenty of US hits, but is predominantly news. About two weeks ago I flipped the switch to short wave and a new world opened! While most stations have terrible reception, I can occassionally get some semblance of fuzzy, alternative music. For about 3 weeks I was super excited at the prospect of the latest and greatest alt hits, til the station finally came in clear enough for me to hear, "You are tuned into station ONE, "News with a prophetic edge." The airwaves were suddenly filled with a low, southern drawl. Pastor Frank from Arkansas was telling me how much he loved me and knew that although we had never met, I had a good soul. Holy Moses I thought, I like jesus music! Who could have guessed? I mean, it's practically in our Jewish DNA to appreciate Christmas music, but I sorta like it all! My name is Kate Glantz and I love music of the lord! :) Whew, now that we've got that out of the way, let's get rollin on some weekly highlights!

Animal Planet:

-One of my favorite, favorite parts of the day is when a Tanzanian is visiting my home and my cat wants to play. As I've mentioned before, the Humane Society isn't exactly alive and thriving in Tanzania. It truly is an eat or beat world and my little kitty will probably never know how lucky she is. Because Nala is treated with a little too much love and respect, she happily hops on strangers laps and rolls on her back to paw around and get her tummy rubbed. Tanzanians literally freeze. If it weren't the Mzungu's home they would throw the lil thing from here to Dar es Salaam. But instead they stiffen completely and get the goofiest grin and shifty eyes. Sometimes they stiffly pet her. Ahhh, it's fantastic! They say there is no such thing as awkward in Tanzania, I beg to differ.

Bwana Polepole, my tortoise (I know, I sorta forgot about him too), has come out of 'hibernation' and now harumphs around my courtyard in the rain. My cat is absolutely transfixed by him. She carefully circles and gives him a sniff or two then lays down about one foot away and watches. I'd say they're no longer strangers, but not yet friends. We'll call them casual acquaintances. I'll have to keep an eye on those two because the last thing I need is to be accused of witchcraft when Nala has tortoise babies. Okay, I'm getting carried away here...

Hocus Pocus:

Speaking of witchcraft, I somehow had an AMAZING chat about real issues with my besti and her housegirl while we were cooking. A neighbor girl is sick right now with the most repulsive eye wound in history. It seems as if a bug crawled into her eye and now it is swollen about 4 times the size of the other and completely bulging and crusted over. My first impulse was to vomit, my second to take her to the hospital. I've been checking in on her for the last few days and she's progressing just fine, don't worry. Anyway, upon discussing this with my besti, she said perhaps a wizard caused it. I laughed and told her that they don't exist. She told me I must really believe in God if I refused to believe in sorcerers, and feeling really comfortable with her, I told her actually, I don't know if I believe in anything. I said it was hard seeing people starve and die of minor ailments and still believe something was looking out for us. She told me maybe God was only watching over America. While I've heard other people say that, I thought it was a pretty huge comment. I then, with a lot of huffing and puffing, tried to explain the chain of events that in my opinion have villagers across Africa destitute and hungry. Don't ask how the words slavery, colonialism, tyranny, and nepotism were communicated. But the thing is, they were and for about 30 minutes we got downright philisophical. It makes me even more eager to practice KiSwahili and form big-girl sentences.

Farmer Kate:

Guess who has a corn field? I do, I do! My housegirl and I hoed the hell out of my back yard (that felt fun to say). After hoeing (ha), we, umm, well I can't really explain it in English. It's weird that I only have a farming vocab in KiSwahili, but since I don't exactly come from Iowa, I guess it makes a little sense. Anyway I planted enough corn to eat ugali (remember paper mache food) for the next year and then some. My Tanzanian breeds of spinach are also moderately thriving and I've eaten them a few times. Woo!

HIV/AIDS Education:

The last week I spent literally 5 hours everyday in meetings with my HIV/AIDS education group. Well, saying my group really overemphasizes my particpation. Actually the last Peace Corps Volunteer started the organization and I've stepped in to fill her shoes. We planned a celebration to take place in the village of Lusisi, about a 35 minute bike ride from Mhaji. We passed the week arranging a song about living well with AIDS, planning the food, and essentially getting together all details regarding the event. The event went off beautifully! A well known AIDS educator that works at the town hospital and writes for a national AIDS education magazine came to speak and two of our group members (the entire group is HIV +) also talked about their lives and losses. While I may have contributed nothing in terms of AIDS education to the event, wow, it felt good to be there. To watch about 200 people, women on one side and men on the other, dressed in fantastically vibrant cloth and listening intently was an out of body experience. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this event. The elders sitting under banana trees, titties literally flying everywhere with eager little babies fussing for a meal, and dogs (probably rabid) moseying about the perimeter. I guess I haven't mentioned yet that I was sitting at the head table with the village politicians and guest speakers. So silly, but they don't give me any choice. Ever.

8 Minute Abs-Nah, just Flab:

I've said it once and I'll say it again. I'm FAT. I wish I could take solace in the fact that almost all peace corps girls are packin on the pounds right by my side, but with the beach 2 weeks away, there is no solace to be had. To remedy this ailment, I've enlisted my besti to work out with me. We tried to go running this week but I have a pretty gruesome foot wound from my 5 hours trek to town last weekend. Instead, we laid on my floor and did stretches and crunches. Well, I did crunches, she tried. I have no idea how it happened, but in the middle of Tanzania, in my little village, on my mostly clean floor, we were doing back bridges together. Back bridges, you know, the kind that no one past the age of 12 or not a gymnast should ever attempt. It was a moment.

Poop:

I'm REALLY tempted to go into detail about my choo (toilet) disaster. But I'll spare you the stinky details and leave you with this image: My primary school princiapl, village executive officer, fix-it guy, and me standing around the ditch in my backyard where all of my 'bodily functions' flow into. We were debating whether it was full or just clogged. Just another Thursday right? Some of the most revered men in the village talking about my shit. Ohh man.

And on that note, I wish everyone health happiness and sanitary bathroom facilities.

I'll be back in town for Christmas Day and then on the 29th, I'm headed to Dar es Salaam for a little fun in the sun!

Skype Me!

Katie

It's been a few weeks. And what a few weeks it has been! I spent Thanksgiving in Mbeya region with about 15 peace corps volunteers. We were invited (or maybe I invited myself) to a former PCV's REAL house! He had couches, carpet, and even a refrigerator. What?! And if you want the truth, I probably would have been just as satisfied without the turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, pumpkin bread, and apple pie and called it a day after watching E! News Daily! For some reason the celebrities looked much oranger and thinner than I remember. Nonetheless, I went to my happy place and Tanzania seemed to fall away. Did I mention I've been dreaming about shoes recently?

If I'm reporting chronologically, I suppose I'll continue with some pretty bad news. As I was boarding the bus to Mbeya on Thanksgiving Day, my house girl called me sobbing. I had been robbed. At first she only told me they took my bicycle. Thankfully they weren't able to enter the house and as I keep my bicycle in the courtyard, that was clearly gone. After the sobbing subsided I learned that most of my clothes were stolen too. She had washed a ton since I was out of town and left them to dry overnight. While it's just 'stuff' it was MY stuff and I am still really torn up over some of the things that were taken. I'm actually far less disturbed over the loss of my fancy outdoor clothes than the really old, sentimental things. Here's a list so you can feel sad too: My softball jersey from the 4th-grade all star game (one and only time I was an all star!), my 1980's Arizona ADPi sweatshirt from my sister, and a really, really old and soft White Sox t-shirt. Waah! I counted my losses and decided to move on gracefully. A few days later I was making coffee and wanted a spoonfull of powdered milk, and realized the jerk stole my MILK! Furthermore, I had three knives, two of which were dull and worthless and one which I brought from America. Guess which one he stole? It makes me a bit furious that some person came into my courtyard and was leisurely and cocky enough to sift through all my belongings and see which he desired. Theft is an inexcusable and hurtful crime. I still adore my village and am essentially over the robbery, my trust has definitely been broken. I have to remember that it was one person, maybe two who broke it. The last thing I want to is become jaded or suspicious of the amazing, kind people of Mhaji.

Okay, that's enough of a crime report. After Thanksgiving I took the coasta ride from hell to Iringa. What would be a 4-5 hour ride on a big bus took about 10 hours in a van-type vehicle. Transport is absolutely painful in Tanzania! Iringa was a blast as always (we've decided Iringa is the Las Vegas of Tanzania) and I enjoyed enough dairy products to hold me over for awhile.

The last few weeks in the village have been slow. I've had plenty of time to think about my goals both for myself and my projects and I'm excited to get to work in earnest. School closed Friday for about six weeks so I'm going to have even MORE time on my hands now. Without the fabulous distractions of technology, there are a lot of spare hours in a day. The rainy season is also about to explode. We've had a few hard rains and I learned that my house is not quite waterproof. In fact, it flooded so badly I was walking around with my pants rolled up and using pots under the ceiling leaks. My door is about three inches above the floor so I was also treated to a lovely river/pond in my living room. And on another home repairs issue, my toilet has overflowed. And by toilet you know I mean hole. Let's not talk about that one.

Finally, a personal accomplishment. On Friday I walked to Njombe (town) from my village! It was only about 25 km, but I felt great setting a goal and reaching it! I walked with a villager and PCV friend. It took us about 5.5 hours. One hour in to the adventure, my shoe was rubbing really badly and produced a quarter-sized blister. I had to switch to flip flops which I absolutely do not recommend for long-distance walks! Nonetheless, I made sure not to complain and only after about 4 hours did I give my backpack to my village friend to carry. It was a beautiful walk that took us through villages and several kilomters of chai fields! I'm happy I did it. Will it be a habit? Aboslutely not. My legs cramped pretty badly that night but by Satuday I was doing just fine! I think a 'Go Me!' is in order.

Last night we celebrated the 40th birthday of a PCV and made a rare appearance at the Njombe disco. Oh man. I was never, never the girl who broke/lost/ruined her phone. Really, never. But last night while having a very important conference in the bathroom with a girlfriend my phone fell into the bucket of toilet water. A-that's just gross. and B-It is no longer functioning. Because my phone is essentially an extension of my hand, I'm really nervous about heading back to the vil sans communication. It might be good for me, but it might/will just be sheer torture. Parents: I will call you when I can, don't worry!

I'm not sure what the month of December will bring. I plan to spend a lot of time studying KiSwahi and continuing with my English classes. I now also tutor secondary school students twice a week in English. I also want to do a lot of thinking about what my 2 years can accomplish. We're encouraged to listen to our villagers. Surely, I can start a project but if there is no support for it, it will fail spectacularly. This will be a struggle as Tanzanians generally believe every white person is a gazillionaire. I have so far been asked to finish our health clinic ($50,000) build new toilets at the school ($2500), repair the roofs at school, and the list goes on. Not to mention the smaller requests for school fees and supplies. I will do my best to write grants and solicit funds in any way I can, but education is where I want to leave my mark.

I spent a morning at the health clinic last week weighing babies, an activity very similar to weighing vegetables at the grocery store. The lil kiddies wear a big pair of underwear with straps. They are literally hooked onto the scale and dangle for a second until the nurse records their weight. The bigger kids (3-5 year-old) simply hang on with their hands. It's pretty adorable. When I poked into the medical supply room, I was absolutley shocked to see boxes upon boxes of birth control. Family planning exists in my village! How did I miss THAT bombshell?

Alright, I keep losing my train of thought. I'm going to call it a day. I'm not sure when I'll be back in town again, but hopefully I'll have a more informative blog post next time.

Thanks again for your love and support. And a VERY SPECIAL SHOUT OUT GOES TO BECKY DEAN who sent me one of the most incredible care packages a girl could dream of. How did you know Ranch Wheat Thins were the key to my heart? Thank you thank you thank you!

Hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy Christmas music, malls, and the delicious wintry concoctions of Starbucks.

Lots of love!

This week marks the longest amount of time I've been out of America-5 months 1.5 weeks. After a semester abroad in Cape Town I was so ready to get home. Life ceased to be special and different and I yearned to leave what I then considered to be the 3rd world. Ha! This experience is paced differently and I feel on one hand that I've only just arrived and on the other that I've already been changed forever. Perhaps the expiration date, 2 years and 3 months, has better equipped me to handle the ups and downs in a more rational manner. To be homesick now would be a disasterous hurdle. I wasn't sure how I'd feel after 1 month in Tanzania, or 2 or 5, and now bordering on the start of my 6th month, I am far more stable than I imagined.

My biggest fear was coming here, something that was essentially in the making since I was five years-old, and hating it. The Peace Corps isn't for everyone and the early termination statistics are very high. I wasn't sure if I had it in me. I knew pride and ego would be enough to make me stick it out for the first 6 months. I was prepared to grin and bear it and make up an excuse to high tail it outta here. Thankfully, this scenario was all just the result of an excessive imagination and bad self-esteem!

Life continues to scoot along and the pace is just right. I've been pushing myself hard to be visible, work hard, and set a good example. It's exhausting really, but it's an uphill battle that I'm currently winning. There are many days where the guilt is overpowering. If I decide to go into town for a party or spend an afternoon reading in my bedroom and ignoring the kids pounding on my door, I actually feel like a bad person. This feeling of obligation is something that manifests itself constantly and in many situations. I don't know how I'll settle this but for now I am reminding myself that I am here for 2 years. If going to town for a long weekend inhibits me from creating sustainable projects that can thrive long after I'm gone, then I'm clearly not working smartly. This job has a lot of downtime, but in many ways I'm never really off the clock. If I'm speaking KiSwahili, I'm working. If I'm walking down the road, I'm working. It's no wonder I tumble into bed at 8:30/9 pm and sleep for 10 hours.

Ahh, I only have 3 minutes of internet left and lots of errands to run! On a final note, I have a kitty! She is absolutely adorable. The animals are so stunted and malnourished here that their offspring are bite sized little critters no more threatening than a stuffed animal. Unfortunately my cat sucks. She has fleas in her ears and butthole and more self-entitlement than reasonable for a bush cat. I've never been a cat person and it's clear why. I have her to ward off rats but in a wrestling match, I'm not sure if she'd even triumph. Let's just say if little kitty goes a missin, I won't be heading up any search parties. Cats are actually a delicasse in these parts, but I promise to draw the line at kitty souflet. Even if she continues to jump on my table or meow incessently. The second I get a flea tho, home girl is gettin the boot to the courtyard.

Alright, back to the vil for the week. Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Today I am thankful for my health, my friends and family in America and Tanzania and well...salt and vinegar pringles available just down the street.

Pictures:1. My girlfriends/Peace Corps Sorority at a party2. Cooking beans. This is the same stove I make my regionally-praised brownies!3. A part of my garden! I'm growing mchicha (Tanzanian spinach and tomotoes)4. Some updates to my house5. New wall art!

Hello again! I've neglected you all for a few weeks. Pole (Sorry)!No need to worry. I'm alive and well. And HAPPY. I've begun work in earnest and am now a "teacher" at two primary schools. My adult English club started this week and the students are so motivated. We've had two lessons: greetings and self-introduction. Let me just say my heart sings when these grown men stumble, fumble, and finally create a sentence! It's a strange surge of pride and excitement. I explained an English concept to them in Kiswahili and they were able to process it and turn it into English. For awhile I was not enthused about teaching English to my villagers. It's absolutely the language of commerce and practically universal. However, most people in my village don't have enough money to catch the bus into town let alone travel outside of Tanzania so wouldn't it just be wasting everyone's time? Not so! My 'star' student already knowns a small amount of conversational English. He is a business man that travels to neighboring countries to buy machines to make school uniforms. His business is being held back by his restricted English abilities. However, with a few months of weekly practice, he has an opportunity to make better or new contacts in places like South Africa and Malawi. He can actually profit financially from sitting in my classroom twice a week reading the ridiculous dialogues I make up each lesson. Yes! My other students are younger men. They do assorted work in the village like fishing, transporting goods on their bikes and of course farming. To boost them into functional English fluency, they could eventually find stable, well paying jobs in town at hotels or restaurants catering to tourists. Regardless of their employment goals, learning English is part of that overall curriculum I mentioned in which broadening one's world-perspective and leads to creating a life beyond subsistence. The women's business group is set to take off Saturday morning at my house. I'm hosting chai and a cake baking lesson! I'll keep you posted on the outcome. Socially speaking, my life is a hoot. Let me just say that Peace Corps volunteers are like the sorority and fraternity members of the international traveling community. We know how to have a good party. Now that I am a former sorority girl AND a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV), my unofficial title as Social Director is slowly coming to fruition. This is a title I will hold with pride and perserverence. Already in the works is a Thanksgiving fiesta in Iringa (big town about 5 hours away), a surprise birthday party for a volunteer friend, and a massive NYE bash on the beach in Dar es Salaam. No matter where you are, everybody's workin for the weekend, right? Granted, life in the vil is an absolute circus. I've been possessed by good KiSwa spirits this week and have passed a real milestone with my language. I'm feeling more comfortable and capable than ever in communication with Tanzanians. I'm also increasing my vocabulary in the tribal language of KiBena. At this point I can only exchange greetings, but it's enough to get a big laugh and a handshake out of strangers. Guess what? Life is good! I'm a happy, happy camper and eager to jump into a new week with enthusiasm and perserverence. How did I neglect to mention OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA! On behalf of PCVs and about 90% of Tanzanians, THANK YOU AMERICA FOR MAKING THE RIGHT DECISION! I was fortunate enough to be watching news coverage in town the moment the West Coast polls closed and Obama officially pulled it off. After watching his victory speech with a gaggle of assorted Europeans, Tanzanian waitstaff at the hotel, and friends, I feel so much renewed hope and excitement for the future of America! The feeling is contagious and everyone including Italians, Swiss, Germans, and Tanzanians alike were hooting, hollering, and cheering for Change! On a final note, I've received some interest in connecting you, my fabulous blog readers to Tanzania and an opportunity to help my new friends and family. I have several ideas and would love your feedback! Most of my villagers don't have shoes. They might have one pair of taped together shower flip flops that serve as their only footwear. In the coming months the weather actually dips to nearly freezing (believe it!) and walking barefoot will no longer be pleasant. Being barefoot while farming or completing activities is not only dangerous but unhygeinic. If anyone is part of a school or church community and would be interested in hosting a winter 'lightly-used-shoe-drive' please contact me! School supplies are also considered a luxury here. Some students don't have enough money to buy even a 10 cent notebook and therefore must sit and listen to lessons without completing assigned exercises or taking notes. Teachers also humiliate or beat them for not being prepared for class. Items like notebooks, pencils, small pencil sharpeners, crayons, markers, etc. could mean the difference between success and failure in a student's academic career. Kids also have no opportunity to explore artistic and creative outlets. Starting an art club would be an AMAZING after-school activity that could also be used as a platform to promote goals and good decision making skills. Also, the orphan population in the village is astronomical. Of approximately 450 students at my primary school, 60 are living without either parent. An additional 70 or so have one living parent. This is a tragedy. It is clear my job as an AIDS educator is lucrative. It is a burden I take humbly and with great care. However, for these children, it's too late. Many are bright, not to mention, ADORABLE kids. They attend school now with the definititive knowledge that they will end and become farmers after grade 7. While extended family may help feed and house them, there is not any option for furthering education. If anyone would be interested in sponsporing some of these children to attend secondary school, you would actually be changing their lives. To give someone the gift of education is giving them the gift of self-reliance and hope for every generation to follow. I know I may be sounding dangerously like a Save the Children 2:00am infomercial, but the best way to ensure sustainable development in the village, is through education. The fees for a secondary student that does not board at school are under $100 a year. I'm not expecting or requesting finanicial assistance from anyone. I am grateful that you can share this wild ride with me and get to know this little corner of the world a bit better. By giving humanity and life to The Wild that is Africa, we're already making progress. However, tis the season of giving, and if you feel obliged, we can work together to find a project, a person, or a cause that best suits your interests and match that with the needs of Mhaji. Thanks for the continued support. Love to everyone!Kate

It's Monday, 8:53am and in a few hours I'm headed back to the vil. I plan to stay at site for 2 weeks and reconvene in town for a wild Halloween party! Saturday was a ridiculous going away party for just finishing education volunteers. About 25 PCVs hired a lorrie and hopped in the back. We cracked open our crates of beer and belted out an enthusiastic medley of Disney, 80s, and classic pop music en route to the Flower Farm.

The Flower Farm is an absolutey gorgeous farm about an hour from town where roses are grown and sold to European markets. The owners are a young, married couple who have always had a good rapport with PCVs. It was a wild party-to say the very least. Imagine about 40 people, generally unkempt and a little strange after months to years living in a rural village. Lots of beverages, great music, and wide open spaces. I think I'm still recovering.

As for the series of random events that punctuates my new life, this week included a wood chopping session. I was greeting some farmers on the road and having seen them 2 days in a row chopping trees apart with axes, decided what better opportunity than to integrate with new people? I began chopping (sometimes missing the tree altogether) and soon had a crowd of people cheering me on as the sweat began to pour and my hands quickly lost feeling. Eventually a bibi (grandmother) took the axe from my hand and showed me how to really cut timber. Ha, she was probably 60+ and showing ME correct wood-chopping form. Oy. Suffice it to say, after my brief forray into farm labor, my right hand (my TEXTING hand!!) was completely frozen in a most unsettling, claw-like manner. My body was so sore that night that it was hard to sleep. Take home story: Go me, I chopped wood! It was extremely empowering and I look forward to investigating more opportunties to play farm hand.

This week was really busy. I hesitate to use the word productive because, well, that word has a very different meaning in Tanzania. I did, however, conduct a village meeting! Only about 25 people showed up but I was content. Speaking to really large groups in KiSwahili isn't quite a feasible option just yet. The meeting was a needs assessment program in which men and women sat in separate groups and anaylzed their entire day from morning to night. Dear lord, a woman's job is never done!

Sample schedule for a Tanzanian woman:

6:00am: Wake up

6:00am-7:00am: Light jiko, boil water for chai, sweep house, sweep dirt outside house

7:00am: Drink chai

7:30am-8:30am: Walk to the spring or water pump (if it's working), fill up bucks of water, carry them back in hands and on head

8:30-10:00am: Mop floor, wash clothes by hand (obviously), tend to children, and any livestock or chickens

10:00-1:00pm: Walk to the shamba (field) and tend to farm

1:00-2:00pm: Cook and eat lunch (ugali and maybe, MAYBE some leafy greens)

2:00-3:00pm: Rest

3:00-6:00pm: Back to the shamba or walk around selling tomatoes/eggs/etc

6:00-7:00pm: More household chores, bringing in goats from grazing, beating corn, etc

7:00-9:00pm: Cook and eat dinner

9:30pm-10pm: SLEEP

Rinse and repeat. EVERY SINGLE DAY. Except Sunday, then you pray too.

This rigorous schedule gets me back to the most interesting topic of all in a place like the village: Time. The people of Mhaji aren't working for the weekend. They're not saving for a Disney Cruise with the kiddies or for their annual summer trip to San Diego. In fact, most are only growing enough food to feed their children. In Tanzania, a meeting may start 3 hours late and no one bats an eyelash. I'm beginning to understand why. I've mentioned this concept before. People are the constant in Tanzania and time merely the variable. If you see your neighbor in need of help on the way to a meeting, you help your neighbor. If you are late for a meeting and you are invited to chai, you're going to be very late for your meeting. It sounds completely inefficient and in fact, it is! But when everyday is the same and emotion only really heightened for weddings and funerals, what's the point of planning for the future, right?

I now see clearly the 'logic' behind the difference of time in America and Africa. In hte hustle bustle of the American work place time is quite truthfully, money. But in Tanzania, no one has money! Time is people. Truthfully, I think both concepts of time are flawed. I'm obviously not here to help people start a 401K or invest in mutual funds, but I am hoping to broaden the world perspective of my villagers. I have only started thinking this through, but I want to shape a curriculum of sorts to get my community seeing beyond the day to day.

First and foremost, I must begin teaching geography! I am asked daily if I can get to America by car, how far away it is, and where in Europe America is. Ahhh. There is something to be said about being able to visualize the entire world, if only vaguely and marked by continents. Even that smallest exercise can push the mind to wonder what's out there beyond corn fields and poverty. I'm often asked what's the English word for said object. I giggle and say, Marekani, hamna! (In America, there isn't any). I tell them, no, we don't eat ugali, and they gasp. What do you farm in America, they wonder. Tanzanians also happen to think Americans are extremely wealthy (generally true in comparison) and also lazy because machines do every thing for us. They can't really imagine what these machines look like or how they work, but they know we must not be able to handle any labor. They also refuse to believe there are homeless or poor people who are white. Sometimes when I'm going for theatrics, I tell them I drive a car, ALL BY MYSELF. Now that is just madness, right!

Anyway, to build on this curriculum of sorts, I am beginning English for adults next week. It's going to be a really big challenge, but I figure after the first few weeks only the really dedicated people will stay. I even promised to buy anyone who stays in the club for 2 months their very own notebook! Trust me, that is a huge incentive here.

I taught 6th grade English last Wednesday. Whew, teaching is hard. Especially with Tanzanian primary students. I swear they're like obedient robots. They speak in unison, say they understand everything, and refuse to ask questions. I have absolutely no clue how much they retained or even understood from my lesson. I tried to be a cool mwalimu (teacher) and play a game. They said they understood the rules but when I asked for the answers I got blank stares. Not one student had done it correctly.

I begin teaching 5th and 6th grade lifeskills this week. I haven't prepared my lesson yet, but I'm really looking forward to it.

This blog is getting REALLY out of hand in length, pole (sorry/I pity you).

I have 2 more thoughts rolling around in my increasingly scattered mind. First, I am in Tanzania to be a health teacher. What does that even mean? I don't know if I'm actually capable of making health education a full time job. Right now I don't even know if that's the most productive way I can spend 2 years in the bush. I'm realizing education period is where all of the shagala bagala (chaos) starts and ends. Most students can't progress to secondary school because there is no money to send them. They become substistance farmers. They are forced into a life of poverty and food/livelihood insecurity. They then have children and the cycle continues. Let's not even get started on the type of trouble a 13 year-old can find once they've finished their academic career. That's where unprotected sex, AIDS, alcoholism, and abuse thrive.

Quick side note: gas is expensive in America, right? Right. Well, in Tanzania too. That shouldn't matter because who in a village drives a car let alone sits in one? Almost no one. We should be safe from the uncertain economy in our little niche of forest. Not so. The cost of fuel has increased the cost of fertilizer to about $100/acre for potatoes and about $70/acre for corn. People do not have this money. How are they going to eat when they can't plant their crops? Honestly, I don't know and I'm really worried. This means that even less children will be going to school in the coming year and it also means a looming food crisis.

I'm 22, with 2 debatably useless college degrees, and not even a single economics class under my belt. On the flip side, I know that drinking liquor and breastfeeding is a VERY bad idea, brushing your teeth is important, and AIDS is not a curse. I also know that with a little duct tape and a few twigs, anything is possible in the village. This is why I'm starting a "Women's Business Association." :) I'm working on getting a group of mamas together to produce items that are easily and cheaply made and can be sold for modest sums. My goal is to find a niche product that can be sold in towns and in America to friends and family. I use really great purses and coin pouches made from vibrant African fabrics and want my mamas to replicate them. The labor will all be logged and the money will be distributed by hours worked. $1 can go a very long way here. (For instance: I bought a kilo of rice for about $1 (which is expensive and considered rich people's food generally). That 1 kilo will last me several weeks.)

By having a supplemental income, I'm hoping more children will be able to progress to secondary school. I also want women to have more options. By giving them the opportunity to be self-reliant income generators, they can potentially be empowered to consider things like family planning, not cowering to abuse, and pursuing their own further education.

And FINALLY, last order of business. Our health clinic is currently a foundation of bricks. The village simply ran out of money. The bricks are only plastered about 6 feet high and what will be the floor is weeds and dirt. The current health clinic is a joke with no furntiture and about 2 rooms. I asked a village leader how much money it would take to finish the dispensary and he said about $2000. That would provide a roof, windows, floor, labor, and furniture. To a village like Mhaji, $2000 may never come. While I am a health EDUCATION volunteer and therefore my job is to provide information, not money, I simply cannot find a reason why my village would be better off not having a functioning health clinic! Unfortunately I won't be learning to write a grant until January and even then it's an uncertain and slow process. Nonetheless, I am determined to get this thing built.

Okay, I really have to stop writing. In a future entry: why medicine is free but no one has access to it.

Thanks for hangin in there to the end. Have a wonderful week and I strongly encourage you to skype me!

Lots of love,

Katie

I'm just in town for a day trip so this will be short and incoherent! Surfed to town again, this time on one leg. I had to have been in some very impressive yoga form because my body was contorted to entirely new bus riding proportions. Unfortunately, I am the least zen person on this universe and yoga is something I proudly claim to know nothing about.

Regardless, here I am. Okay, I lied. I am pretty zen right now. The second my fingers can clip clip across the keys I slip into this crazy trance where the world falls away and I could be anywhere. It's fantastic.

This was a busy week! Busy by village standards of course. On Tuesday I taught an English class. It was hilarious because I received the lesson upon walking in the door and actually had the concept all wrong. I was going to teach the meaning of which. Who really remembers that which ONLY modifies subjects and who modifies people? I sure didn't. The principal who was in the classroom with me seemed really worried. I somehow played it off like it was a lost in translation problem, but OOPS! I teach English again next Wednesday and will get the lesson on Monday.

On Thursday, my new Dutch friends came to Mhaji! I woke up very early like a good Tanzanian hostess and started cooking chai. I made food from basic ingredients! Woohoo. No more just add water and stir, I'm an mpishi (cook)-in-training now. They arrived, had chai, and the guys went off to do some interviews for a water filter their designing, and the girl, Marie, stayed with me. We went to a meeting in which I arranged quite a bit for next week, and then returned home to cook a meal for 6 people! Ahh, KAZI! (Work!) They headed back to town around 4, but are actually coming back today (the reason for me coming to town). We're going to have a little party at my house and make Mexican food and brownies.

Oh this is a little gem. On Wednesday, one of my girlfriends (12yrs) asked if I'd come on a walk with her in the evening to the next village. Ok, what else have I got to do right? Well, we leave around 5:30, walk a few km, and then I find out it's not a pleasant sunset stroll. No no. We approach a house and are given 2 massive watering cans. We proceed down a mountain, fill up our cans in a spring and start watering a field of avocado trees! KAZIIIII. We arrive back and it's pitch black.

Yesterday, I was invited to a wedding. I was told don't worry, it's not too far. It was about 5km walking, no biggie. I'm not THAT outta shape. We get there, and I immidiately become a spectacle. I knew that would happen, so no biggie. I sat on benches with all the parents and old people and was generally gawked at for a few hours. Well, just before it was my turn to dance/walk up to the wedding party and give them my gift (a big bar of soap wrapped in newspaper), a little girl I was with started falling off a bench. As I reached to grab here, her big sister noticed and reacted in such a way that HER ELBOW SLAMMED FULL SPEED INTO MY NOSE. Holy lord it hurt. I refused to cry but the tears were still pouring out. I started swallowing some blood but thankfully none dripped on the bride's pretty dress! No one actually saw what happened and I knew if I said anything they'd probably beat the girl that hit me. So, when people asked why I was sad I just pretended like I didn't understand Kiswa for a few minutes and the issue was dropped in the chaos of our dance/walk to the head table.

I wish I could elaborate more but I only have a few minutes left on the internet and lots of errands! I'm headed to the post office now with fingers crossed for fabulous letters.

Next week is crazy busy and next weekend there is a big party just outside of town with expats and Peace Corps volunteers. It will be nuts. In two weeks I begin teaching life skills to 5th and 6th graders! In Kiswahili. Ah! Technically we're not supposed to start work for another 2 months, but I just feel to guilty sitting around being useless.

Alright, I'm outta here! Have a fantastic week everyone and send me lettttters!

Lots of love,

Kate

I have been in town WAY too long. I actually feel extremely guilty and am eager to head back in a few hours. I ended up staying an extra day because the local expat 'country club' was having an annual bbq. How very colonialist, I know. It was really fun. A good mix of Peace Corps and international expats.

So today I head back to the vil for 2 weeks! It will be my longest stretch so far and I'm ready for it. I'm hoping to start my Village Situational Analysis survey this week. It is a compilation of 60 questions that I've translated into Kiswa. After getting a sample of about 50 households, I'll know the needs and issues of Mhaji and then set to work finding a cure for AIDS and establishing world peace...naturally. It's going to be quite the uphill battle, but I'm so excited. This optimism is coming before the actual work, so you may see a 180 in the coming months. Let's hope not!

I'm also expecting visitors! I met a group of Dutch students doing research on water filters. They're coming to my village on Thursday to talk to people and stay the night! I can't wait to be the hostess with the mostess. I'm thinking fudge brownies are in order!

Alright, I'm being a bad blogger and am completely distracted at the moment.

Hope everyone is happy and healthy. Eat a hamburger for me please. And maybe some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And if you're feeling generous, I would REALLY love some candy corn!

As of now, I'm headed off to my fave little rice and beans restaurant hidden away in an alley. Rice, beans, and veggies cost 60 cents. Today I'm splurging on chapati (TZ tortilla, but BETTER) and will roll it into a burrito. If I close my eyes really tight, it may just be the same as a spicy chicken enchillada. Ha, ya right.

XOXO

K

PS-Since I'm going to be out of internet contact for quite awhile, now is the perfect time to Skype me! Just to clear up any confusion, I can't Skype back with a computer. You'll have to call my cell via your computer. It's about 25 cents a minute, but if you search the internet you may be able to find phone cards cheaper. Everyone that's called seems to have a good experience with Skype and the connection is generally really good.

Best Times To Call:

Between 730-10am or 6-9:30pm Tanzania time

From the west coast we have a 10 hr time difference so you'll probably want to call in the morning or before you go to bed

East coast is an 8 hour difference unless I'm confused about daylight savings

When in doubt...just google it!

Pictures: 1. My lil girlfriend Agape. She is the daughter of my best friend in the village. She is the daughter of the principal and teacher at the primary school. I am at their house prob 5/7 days of the week. 2-4. Primary school graduation!5. My "library room". Notice I haven't painted BEHIND the bookshelf yet! It's so heavy, so it's going to take some initiative to finish. I painted the library this week, and you may not be able to tell but it's green. The bookshelf is the color of my living room. Okay, let's get this started. There's no time like the present so I'll begin with a recap of my morning adventure. I woke up around 6:30 to screaming goats...or children (kids or kids, get it hahah). Regardless, it was loud. I completed my morning ritual (empty the 'chamber pot' :) ), drink chai, brush teeth, etc, and headed off to the bus stop. I'm in town a day early because two of my friends have decided Peace Corps is not the life for them and are returning to America. A bunch of my training class is coming in and we'll have a nice little send off tonight. I'm really disappointed but they will move on to new and exciting things and life will continue. Here I am getting side tracked. As I walked to the bus standi (I can't count how many English words have an i thrown on the end and become Kiswahili!) I was actually almost charged by a full herd of bulls. The last near-charging incident was only one bull. Today, it was about 7 and just to prove I'm not over-exaggerating, a villager ran with me to hide! Shagala bagala (chaos)!!To describe the bus portion of the morning, I have prepared a few jokes. Q: How does one get to town on a bus without sitting or standing?A: They surf!It was standing room only on the cramped bus/van and I say standing room in the vaguest sense. The aisle was piled with massive sacks of maize. Having no option I hopped onto a big sack and held onto various things throughout the trip: a seat, a pole, a head. The whole while I was navigating the 'waves' of the road, bobbing and weaving so as not to split my skull open on the ceiling that was about 2 inches above me. Having never surfed before, I am now patting myself on the back for lasting over an hour with knees bended and arms balanced. I even managed to send a few texts in route (but I'm sure that won't surprise anyone). 2nd joke!Q: What does a burlap sack say when you punch it?A: Sqwuuuaackkkk. Didn't know it til the last leg of the trip but the bag next to me had a family of chickens in it. Hehe! This week was both fast and slow as the African days can play so many tricks. The beginning of the week is pretty hazy now but I remember going to school, taking some walks, the usual. I had a great meeting with the PLWHA (People Living With HIV/AIDS) group on Sunday. They're so motivated to spread AIDS education and I can't wait to work with them!The highlight of my week would have to be Wednesday: primary school graduation. The teachers and myself started cooking at 8am. Imagine massive cauldrons of rice, beans, veggies. I wish I had taken a picture, because I guarantee you can't imagine it. To create a big stove, we use three rocks and then burn a bunch of sticks in the middle. The pot goes on top of the rocks with the fire from the sticks below it. Graduation was set to start at 12. We arrived sometime after 2 and waited a bit for the festivities to begin. After about 4 HOURS of sitting, tuning out, clapping, being stared at, I left with the teachers to set up for the meal. Something big happened. Usually, because I'm white, I'd be served at the same table as the government officials and other important guests. Not anymore! I was slinging food with the rest of the teachers. In fact, I even served the students! I was cranky and hungry after working and sitting all day in the sun.However, I somehow got dragged into the 'disco room' with the students. I thought what the hell, let them at least think I'm funny. I started dancing. I could barely hear the music over the hooting and howls of laughter. It was so much fun! I went nuts. A little later, a few teachers and I slipped away into a pitch black classroom and drank beer!!! I felt so naughty. Do you think chaperones at high school dances are doing the same thing? When the principal came in I thought I'd get in trouble for some reason, but he didn't even mention the fact that all the staff were boozing on school grounds. The night couldn't get any better...or so I thought. As I was headed home, my besti told me to come over for a bit. What happens next? Wait for it...We started dancing to gospel music videos with the whole family and house girl. It was probably my favorite moment in Africa so far. For at least an hour I was rocking out Tanzanian style and praisin the lord in Kiswa!And on a final note: I'm FAT. And while you're thinking shut up, no you're not, get this: Last week I SPLIT MY PANTS!!!!! My house girl patched them for 10 cents, but I'm still mortified. You will not be seeing any body pictures until the situation is remedied.Beyond the need for an African Weight Watchers program, life is good! I'm happy, healthy, and getting pumped to start work. Lots of love,Kate

I was so worried I'd made it a full week without at least one incredulous story. Not so. This morning, as I saw the bus clang-clang-toot-tootin toward me, I realized ahh, they have no intention of stopping! They knew very well, I'm a white girl with a big backpack and from time-to-time, I need a little coddling. Clearly, I'm no longer a novelty. They made me run and jump on the bus as if we were actually in a hurry for something. The definition of hurry doesn't quite exist in Tanzania. Rather, we saunter, meander, putter even. What was this nonsense? I tried to close my eyes and pretend like I was gaily hopping onto a trolley car in San Francisco. I bumped my head immediately, and opened my eyes. The rest of the ride was uneventful. I had a boobie resting on the side of my arm as a baby was trying nurse, but I'd say that's fairly commonplace these days.

As for the rest of the week, things were same old same old. Took some walks, hung out with people, was a spectacle. The usual. Anyway, I'll write more tomorrow, but we're headed off to grab some rice and beans.xoxo, til tomorrow PS-These are pictures of my house! When I moved in it was completely empty. You can see the lovely summer blue paint showcased against the finely varnished couch and chairs. Mwaha. It's all a bit helter skelter, but it's really starting to grow on me! And yes, that is my toilet. Face the wall to pee, the door to poo. Easy as 1-2-3. Kesho! (Tomorrow)

This has been quite the week of drama: illness, curses, stampedes, riots, and even ANTS IN MY PANTS. And something happened that surely I never expected possible. Something so terrible, so unexpected...I don't think I can ever eat torilla chips again. AHHHH

Let's start at the beginning. It was Monday, which means House-Girl-Day, which also means I Don't-Have-To-Use-Cold-Water-To-Make-Oatmeal-Day. Around 12:30 PM I start the arduous yet rewarding process of making chips and guac from scratch. Chips were about my only option as the only raw ingredient in my house besides pasta is flour. So proud of my accomplishment and completely engrossed in a National Geographic expose' on food crisis, I gobbled teh entire batch. BAD IDEA. I promised myself, woman, no more food until the sun goes down.

Naturally, 1 hour later I'm bored and realize I have (most) of the ingredients to make fudge. My jiko also had a few hot coals in it. I reasoned I'd share the treat and save the rest for later. Let's just say my green thumb for cooking all things chocolate and sugary ends after brownies. Maybe the chocolately porridge would harden inside, I wondered. Or maybe in my lap, or maybe, in my mouth? I never said I could actually execute self-control. Before things escalated out of control, I poured the cavity-a-bite mixture into the grass outside.

At this point, I was just moderately uncomfortable and took a walk to a friends house. Within the hour, however, my entire body was aching. Even my hair was tired. I went home to sit and attempt work. Eventually my best friend, the teacher and wife of the primary school principal came over. Upon learning I felt a lil ill, she insisted I go to her house and be watched. Tanzanians love to look at you when you're sick. It's ettiquette to sit and watch the sick person and help them in any way to recover. Anyway, I agreed like it was ever actually a choice in the first place. I couldn't touch dinner and by 9pm I'm dunzo.

I get back to my house and root around for a thermometer. For some really good reason (?) I was certain it was on the floor inside of my frisbee, next to the nails, matches, and nailpolish. I shine my flashlight and notice a few big ants. What could they have gotten into, I wondered? Upon further inspection, to my total horror, I saw hundreds of ants on my walls, floor, in all of my clothes, and invading my bed. And that's when I felt a stinging pain on my leg. Pulling up my pants I noticed one of the Siafu (the name for biting safari ants). The bastard bit me hard and wouldn't let go. I had a huge welt for a day. With that bit of adrenaline and an abundance of self-pity, I dragged myself back to the teacher's house and spent a sleepless night of moaning and groaning. Next to the rat in my bed, I concede that night as one of my darkest hours.

The next day, Tuesday, I went back to my house around 11am, still feeling horrible. We did a survey of the damage and found the Siafu had moved on leaving MANY dead in their wake. My friend sweeps them up and I go back to bed at her house til evening. I was so ready for my own bed and as I was about to hop in I realized, we hadn't checked out the bed that morning. A colony of Siafu had died in various layers of my blankets, pillow,and sheets. Back to the neighbors.

Wednesday: I was feeling much better. As I was outside cooking, I heard a loud crash. My only vanity allowed in Africa, a full length mirror, had crashed off the wall in a million tiny fragments. OY. I'll deal with that later, I decided. After cooking the beans, I sat in my chair and upon my 1st bite the entire steaming bowl poured in my lap. It soaked through all of my clthes and the cushion. It also drenched sauce all over my new book!

1st thought: Bugs are going to get into my book at night.

2nd thought: Shit, 7 years of bad luck-it's not a joke.

3rd thought: If I start eating the beans on my clothes and chair, there will be less clean up.

Thursday: I hadn't gotten out much this week so I took a walk to buy some eggs. On the way a bull escaped from his pack and started galloping toward me. Ahhh! crisis averted. A few minutes later a woman welcomed me into her fertizlier/alternation shop (I know, I know) and offered me an egg that was sitting on a shelf. The day concluded with no further incidents.

Friday 5:15am: I heard drums pounding wildly and someone shouting into a megaphone. What is going on? The siren on the megaphone started blaring and I'm suddenly wondering whether a riot has hit Mhaji. My 5:15am logic told me to put a bra on in case I was going to be dragged out of my house. I know, 5:15am Katie has a bit of a theatrical streak. I even went so far as to send a text to a neighbor in Kiswahili asking: Shouting-problem or not? Finally I made out some of the shouting and realizing they were annoucning a death/funeral. Once I heard the word for church, my anxiety subsided. This practice of drumming and shouting was also common in my other village but occurred at night instead. Now I know.

And now here I sit, mostly laughing at the series of unfortunate events. Dare I say, it can't get any worse? Nope, I won't say it. In a place as full of spontanaity and well, wildlife as Africa, tomorrow can bring almost anything. And while I can certainly do without ants in my pants, it all makes for a pretty memorable chapter in this strange, strange adventure.

Love to everyone. Tomorrow I'll will post a few picture of my house!

Katie

Hi! I'm in town for just the day so I must be short and sweet. This week was good...VERY busy. I'm learning more Kiswahili everyday and by tonight just MIGHT have all of my furniture! Instead of writing much, I'll explain the pictures! 1. The PCVs in my village and our families on swear in day in Kilosa.2. My very own house, which I had almost finished painting in the picture.3. My devil rent-a-cat. She was taken away and I'll get a kitten anyday now.4. About half-way through training we planned a toga party!5. Ashleigh and I modeling the shirts we made! 6. Dada Catherine and me being flashy.7. Dressing like the Muslim women in TZ.8. My adorable neighbor Hepe from training.9. My village group on swear in day.10. My homestay Mama, Mama Sumary. MISS HER!11. Some cute kids in my training village. I don't have many pictures of my new village as I don't want to take out my camera for awhile. It's not that I'm worried about theft, but kids are obsessed with cameras and I'd rather not deal with that yet. Everything has been pretty good. Lots of meetings and random places to go. My eating habits are quickly deteriorating as I can't or am to lazy to light my jiko (stove). On the days my house girl comes and lights it for me, I make a lot of food and sorta hibernate on it. A new phase has been to cook a lot of pasta and eat the cold leftovers with sugar for breakfast the following morning. Another classy meal is instant oatmeal and COLD water. Finally, and yes, only a fat kid could dream this up: I occasssiionnnallly mix peanut butter, oats, sugar, cocoa powder, and water. Stir it and eat/drink. Oy vey, right? Alright, gotta get outta here but want to say a million billion thank yous to everyone reading this and supporting me. It is the craziest feeling reading comments, getting phone calls, texts, and letters. It keeps me sane! Thank you thank you thank you. Lots of love!

Yesterday was classic Tanzania. I sauntered around town (one big street with a few side streets) bargaining for vegetables (3 avocados for 30 cents!) and buying enough snickers bars to keep me mentally stable for the next week. I get to my bus about 1 hr early to buy a ticket and secure a good seat.

Christie and I sit on a bunch at the standi and start chatting about this and that when I see my bus rolling down the street. Yes, actually rolling. There were three men running and pushing down the main road. Okay, weird. I wasn't worried it was leaving without me as I'm certain there are laws of physics dictating no African bus can ever leave on time. About 30 minutes later it was being rolled back into the lot. I boarded at 1, with a hopeful 1:15 departure. What I saw was ominous at best. The entire bottom of the front of the bus was missing and men were all over head to toe filthy using makeshift tools. No big deal, I'll sit next to the old, blind man and read my book. 2pm passes, 2:30, 3. No closer to take off. At this point, I'm hungry. Howveer, it's a rule that whatever you eat you must share on a bus. I barely trust where my own hands have been let alone those of my fellow bus patrons. I keep reading and trying not to be a type-A mzungu by keeping the distressed sighs to a minimum.

I finally get off the bus at 3:30 pm and say I'll come back tomorrow. There was something about riding in a bus that took 3 + hours to fix by untrained "mechanics" that reminded me an awful lot of a test-dummy car crash commercial. Christie's bus simply never appeared so we trekked back to the hotel for night two. The two of us, Brie, and our new PC friend Lou, had dinner and watched Lars and the Real Girl. Weird movie.

So here I am, it's 11:11am (make a wish) and I'm about to have second chai and meander to the bus standi. I am REALLY ready to get back to the vil and even feel guilty at having been gone 2 days. I missed a pretty important meeting of the PLWHA group (People Living with HIV/AIDS) yesterday and was supposed to go to the secondary school in the village over this morning to introduce myself. It's okay though because things like this happen all the time. Transportation mishaps are a daily, hourly part of life.

On a final note, I finished painting my living room! I may even get my couch today?!

Be back next Saturday.

XOXO

K

Hi everyone! I'm in absolutely great spirits. It's 11am, and I've already had breakfast (cold spaghetti sprinkled with sugar...yep, I'm getting creative), taken a bus to town, stood in line for 1.5 hrs at the bank, and now sit happily in the tiki themed internet cafe in Njombe. Life is fab and I'm about to tell you why. But first, let's talk about that time I was almost sold into white slavery.

I hop-actually crawl, kick, and paw my way-onto our 30 seater van/bus which arrived...eventually in Mhaji. There were about 50 people already on board not to mention about 2 tons of maize, potatos, and various other staple perishables looming in my way. I climbed over four burlap sacks of food, 3 chickens, 2 nursing mothers, and a...partridge in a pear tree...okay, no pear tree, but you get the point. It was clearly standing room only at this point so I wedged myself diagonally between a little girl and a woman and held on tightly to the bars above. It's not like I could have really fallen if I tried, but the only place for my hands to go seemed to be up. As we putted down the dirt road I tried not to remember that if I looked down, I could actually see the road through the bus. OY.

About one hour into our ride, I actually get a phone call. (Thanks Alex and Roxanna!! Sorry I lost service.) Imagine this tall (compared to Tanzanians) white girl in a puffly blue North Face Jacket and backpack standing/surfing in the middle of the bus and talking loudly in English. I was a one-woman circus.

Anyway, when we were about 20 minutes from Njombe our bus pulls over to the side of the rode and the Conda (Conductor) started shouting at me, Njoo Dada, Njoo! (Come sister, come). Of course I obeyed. He shuffled me into a nearby car with four people already in the back seat and gave the driver some money. WHAT?! This is it, I have no money left on my phone, I willingly got into a strangers car, it's over. I'm going to be mopping the decks on a pirate ship somewhere for eternity. Ok-I didn't really think that, and truthfully was thrilled to zip into town in a car, but wouldn't it have been funny if I really did become a pirate wrench or something? Those would have been some truly golden blog entries! :)

As we drive into town I see a gaggle of Wazungu (white people). Of course I know them-we are few and far between. I hopped out chased them like a wild woman for about 6 blocks and then commenced together to the bank. After a substantial wait and mannnnny line cutters (I don't think there is a word in Swahili for LINE!) I made it got my much needed moola.

All of that in just one day, and I haven't even had chai yet. Now, let's recap.

This week was busy, busy. Monday and Tuesday I sat in on about 5 grades at the primary school. I observed Kiswahili lessons, math, science, and gardening. I also saw what happens when students are naughty. They get BEAT. Horrible to watch, but I couldn't seem to take my eyes away. The bad kids all line up and take turns getting beat once with a stick on their arm or leg. Then they run to class. Ahh, yuck.

Anyway, Wednesday I went to the village clinic for baby-weighing Wednesday. There were at least 100 kids there and I was told that it was a poor turn-out. It will be a really amazing venue to teach once I have a better grasp on the language and actually know what to teach about.

Thursday my AMAZING house girl started. She really whipped the place into shape. I taught her how to make hot cocoa and we had a lovely little pumzika (rest) together at chai time. Thursday afternoon, fresh off the domestic glow of a clean house, I decided to roll up my sleeves and bake...on a charcoal stove. Without a single unit of measure, not all of the ingredients, and an oven assembled from pots, rocks, and super hot coals, I must say that I made the most DELICIOUS, moist, finger-licking good brownies. They were a hit and everyone was so amazed I could actually do something for myself! I think eventually I'll have a cooking club where we can make fun food together. Home-Ec Africa style.

Every evening this week I went to my Mwalimu Mkuu's (Principal) house. His wife is also a teacher at the school and she seems to find everything I do or say hilarious. Fine by me. They have 3 kids that I'm obsessed with AND a generator to watch TV on at night. I think it may be the only TV in the entire village. Anyway, I bring over crayons and the kids play and I help cook dinner. I even cut up a chicken this week. I'm talking dismembered in its entirety. Aweeesome except for the fact my hands smelled for 2 days. They eat dinner around 9:30 and always force feed me at least a little, which brings me to paper machee food.

Have you ever made paper machee? It's quite easy...flour and water. Have you ever eaten it? No, of course not. Well would it surprise anyone at this point to know that the staple food of Tanzania and many African countries is Ugali. Guess what it's made of? Flour and water. I dare you to try it...I guarantee you won't mess up even if you think it tastes completely and horribly wrong. Bring water to a boil and slowly add in flour. Stir until it's a huge ball of paste/dough. Eat. Then hate yourself. It's actually not that bad. When you dip it with veggies you can barely taste the nontaste of it!

And on my final note...let's talk a little bit about the economy. It sucks, right? Things are pretty tough in TZ too, but on a totally different level. I'm a little embarrassed to have this discussion about finances but I think it will really help put some perspective to the different uses and needs of money here and at home.

Here's the embarrassing part...I'm wearing a pair of $200 jeans. I could justify by saying they were a birthday present, and that they actually were 40% less because I worked at the store they came from. But that's all irrelevant. The jeans barely fitting around my fat, ugali eating ass right now cost 200 big American dollars.

Now let's do a break down on some of my Tanzanian purchases.

A bed, mattress, couch, 2 big chairs, cushions for them all, a wardrobe, and book shelf: Just about 300,000 shillingi or $300. Hmm...

Now let's talk about labor. I pay my fabulous, very hard-working house girl 10,000 shilling/month for coming 3 times/wk. Over two years, that's $240.

Before anyone gets too nervous that I've started batting for the other team (that is the exploitive, wealthy, sweatshop investing club), I have to say, that it's all fair. Ajuaye (my housegirl) is thrilled at the pay and to be quite honest, I was cheated on a lot of the furniture because I'm white. Villagers here are farmers and they eat what they grow. It is completely possible to live in my village for under $20 a month. Excluding any cellphone use, trips to town, or luxuries beyond food or oil.

It has made me start thinking more about the $1/day poverty standard. Don't get me wrong, people here are living in poverty. It's just different when I am living in it with them. The kids wear rags. What were once adorable Pokemon sweatshirts or University of This or That jerseys, are now essentially scraps you'd use to clean your house with. But it's actually not a big deal! You would never hear of a child wanting a Hannah Montana shirt or Nike Ipod shoes. It's not even part of their thought process. You're not naked-good enough. I don't know if I'm being completely insensitive and this is coming out all wrong. It very well may be. I guess I'm trying to communicate that money has a different value here. As does time. Playing in the dirt/grass/cornfield is fun and active and free. 5 kids running around with sticks is every bit as glorifying to them as American kids playing with lightsabers. And guess what, sticks don't need batteries. If they break, you can just bend down and get another one.

Once I develop these thoughts with a little more clarity I'll come back to it. For my remaining 15 minutes of internet, I'm going to play on facebook!

Love everyone and hope you're all happy and healthy!

Katie

Ok...here goes some attempt at framing the last, and without question, the hardest week of my entire life.

I was hoping by the time I got to a computer this story would be funny, but I'm not exactly laughing yet. I'm getting ahead of myself though, let's start at the beginning.

Our swearing-in ceremony was fantastic, if not a little yawn-worthy. I was actually given the privilege of writing a speech with another girl in my class and giving it in Swahili at the ceremony. It was taped so I'll put it on my blog when I can. :) Oh and in case you had any doubt, I looked absolutely fabulous in my yellow,orange,brown checkerprint skirt, shirt, and headwrap. Not as fab as Mama though, naturally. That woman just rocks it night and day. She even bought some new hair for the occassion. (Side note: Sometimes I don't recognize women that I actually have met several times because they're always changing their wigs!!)

Fast forward to that night...VICTORY PARTY. We made it. There was dancing, drinking, and all-around merrymaking. I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't dancing on the bed of a pickup truck at one point in the evening. End scene.

Next morning, at 6am we set off in a little coasta (van/bus type thing). There were 10 PCVs and about 14,000 suitcases. Dozing, reststops, and anticipation, yada yada. We finally arrive in Njombe town at a little after 8pm. Projected ETA? 4PM. The next morning we frantically raced around the market buying buckets, pasta (about all I eat), and random other must-have items.

I arrived at my lovely village, Mhaji (Moo-hah-ji) at around 4 and put all of my bags in my completely empty house. I'm talking zip, zero, nada empty. Oh unless we're counting spiders. Then I have the most furnished house in the world. I threw my foam mattress on the floor in one room and spread a sheet on the floor of my 'living room.' No prob whatever, moving on.

Day 2 was exhausting and busy and full of mind bogglingly fast Kiswahili speakers. Fine okay, good. Go to bed. Finally, time to escape and store up energy to try it all again the next day. Around 1:30am. I awake to a strange noise. I ignore it but it doesn't stop and it's so close to me. I fumble for my glasses and flashlight.

OH MY GOD. Really. OH MY GODDDD. A rat was crawling around my head. The F word, completely applicable here will be used freely. THERE WAS A FUCKING RAT CRAWLING AT MY HEAD. AHHHH

I went through every step of grief. Denial (lasted 2.2 seconds), Anger (about 12 seconds), Pain/Fear/Misery (7 hours). Let's just say the floodgates finally opened. I cried the type of cry where you are choking, screaming, cursing your very existence, why me, why me? There was so much snot pouring out of my nose that I started blowing it on the sleeve, neck, bottom of my shirt. I was a picture perfect mess. Major shout out to my family, and PCV Jess who calmed me down throughout the night. I sat on the cement floor with no blankets (not love or money would take me back in that bedroom). It was a pity party to end all pity parties. The next day...I got a cat. Well, more truthfully, I rented one til my lil kitten is strong enough!

Shoot, I only have 10 minutes left. Life has been progressing slowly since The Night of the Rat. I have been visiting around the village, trying (very poorly) to cook, bathing (verrrry occasionally) and even gardening a bit! As for the whole vanity thing...I'd say it's gone out the window. I was kindly told today I'm wearing myshirt inside out...the same shirt I was also wearing yesterday. I think I may be starting to embrace this smelly new identity with a bit too much fervor.

OK SHOOT. The rest of my blog was deleted and this was all I could salvage. Stupid internet cafe. I literally have minutes to finish so I will send you this plea: CALL ME.

And...write me

Kate Glantz, Peace Corps Volunteer

P.O. Box 749

Njombe

Iringa Region

Tanzania

Don't worry too much about me though. I love and believe so much in the reason that I'm here that I'm not ready to let some pesky rodents kick me out just yet.

Alright I am off. On a final note this weekend I am embarking on a home improvement project. I'm going to paint the inside of the house. Mwaha, what a fabulous little disaster that will be.

Finallllly...in this tragic comedy of a life I am living, much of the humor comes from my wonderful family and friends. I relish in your comments, letters, and texts. I could use some more calls tho! You are all amazing, and I couldn't do this without knowing somewhere you're all out there.

Love you. Miss you. And wear your heels loud and proud girlies.

Katie

It's now Thursday, around noon. I have absolutely nothing new or inspiring to contribute. I did, however, manage to sneak away from 'school' and hitch a ride to the internet cafe. And by hitch a ride, I mean I politely filled out a vehicle request form and asked for permission. Most of the group headed to the baa (bar), but what does any responsible sorority girl do after spring break? Detox. This week is for family, reflection, and frantically figuring out how to light a portable stove without singing off my eyebrows.

I'm getting sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer next Wednesday. My mama and I will be in matching African garb and trust me, we will be hot. While we're discussing wardrobes, I might as well give you a brief anatomy lesson. The wowowo (big bootay) is prized here and regarded as far superior to the American dream of a great rack. Therefore, I am fairly certain that my skirt will be very, VERY tight. I'm talking waddle-to-move tight. Don't worry too much about the visual, I will take a photo shoot from all angles. If some of you haven't received the memo yet, I don't actually have an ass. Perhaps this is why I've only received 3 marriage proposals?

On another amusing note...while on shadow in Iringa, quite a few male 'well-wishers' stopped in to linger/solicit/oogle. One man, after watching me 'cook' in silence for about 30 minutes finally contributed in perfect English, "Clearly, you have had no experience in this area." I responded, "You are absolutely right, would you like to give it a try?" Silence. This whole cooking business may prove to be a tough learning curve. Still, with a village full of potentially doting mamas, I think I'm going to be alright.

Not too much else to add. The trip from Dar back to Chanzuru was uneventful. I have been pouring over my People magazines and even had some quality time reading about Angelina and Brad with my family by lantern light post din. I will REALLY, REALLY miss them.

This will be my last post for at least a week. I move out of my homestay Monday and leave for Njombe on Wednesday. We'll spend a night in town setting up a PO Box and buying some necessities. Then it's TIME! Wooohooo. I'm thinking about getting a pet. Pehaps a cat to save me from nasty rodents. I know my family is rolling their eyes right now. Not only do I hate cats, I haven't the slightest idea of how to care for one. Nor am I all too thrilled about having a poop box inside my house. The whole idea of pet maintence, flea removal, and potty training is quite underwhelming, but at the end of the day, I think having another pulse in the house would be great for morale. Just stay posted...it may be a phase.

Finally, thanks everyone for your comments, letters, and texts. They make me beam with happiness. I definitely-no questions asked-have THE GREATEST, MOST SUPPORTIVE, friends and family in the entire world. In the next month please make a concerted effort to eat at Mongollian BBQ, wear really tall stilettos, and oh, I don't know, buy a really jazzy frivolous accessory. I hear we're in some sort of recession, so think of it as contributing to the economy on my behalf. Really, when you look at it that way, you're just being patriotic.

Love to everyone!

Katie

I'm currently sitting in the Peace Corps office in Dar es Salaam. I wrote my first African post in this very chair and fast forward 2 months, my life has turned topsy turvy. I have lived with my amazing host family for 2 months, acquired a truly functional grasp of Kiswahili, made incredible friends, and am proving to myself everyday that yes, I can do this.

The conclusion of shadow week was amazing. I had been living out of my current reality into something much closer to my former environement: Spring Break. And let me just say, Spring Break Iringa truly lived up to the hype. The actual town of Iringa is fantastic. I did some shopping, some eating (okay, a lot of eating...enchiladas woopwoop), and got my bearings in a region that wait for it, wait for it...

IRINGA IS MY FUTURE HOME!!!!!!!!!

I was placed this morning in a ceremony at the PC Office. I will be living in a small village north of Njombe town. My house will be on the grounds of a primary school and I should have a few teachers as neighbors. The entire village has no electricity so my solar charger is about to get a lil wear and tear. I'm replacing a volunteer that has served 3 years! Big shoes to fill, but I'm up for it. Supposedly she wasn't aware her site was being replaced and sold/gave away everything in her house!

Let's take a moment and picture me furniture shopping in a rural village. Okay. Can't picture it? No, me either! I'm ready to nest tho and let's just hope I have my mom's green thumb for decorating. I'm about one hour from Njombe so I will be able to post pictures of my future residence without too much trouble.

What more scoop can I give you about Njombe? It's COLD there. I'm talking long underwear cold. It's also beautiful, infused with a lot of tribal language, and well, I just know it's going to be amazing. Somehow every star alligned and my best girlfriends are all in the same region. That means less than one day of travel to visit each other. I'm already planning the next theme party. I'm beyond ecstatic about the entire situation and I can't wait to give you the details as they unfold.

For now, the line for internet is out the door and people are getting feisty.

Love you all and hopefully I'll post again in the next few weeks.

XOXO

Kate

Well hello again. Did you think you had all (and by all, I mean my parents, sisters, and 3-4 friends that probably read this blog) been abandoned? I have been living the high life. Flat screen TVs in my bedroom, wireless internet across the village. I've just been playing coy so you'll miss me more.

LIES. I haven't seen a computer in 7 weeks! I was utterly unprepared for this glorious window of time to use Internet and sadly have no formal entry prepared.

What have the last 6 weeks been like? OH, you know...right you don't. I still go to bed in my wildlif e preserve, I mean bedroom, at about 830 pm. Everyday is intensive Kiswahili training, practical (?) health sessions, etc. Lots of information smacking me in the face.

I'm sitting now at an internet cafe in Mafinga town, Iringa region. Google it. I'm with one of my great gal pals and we're shadowing a current volunteer. After living in a village that doesn't even sell toilet paper since mid-June, suffice it to say homegirl is ready to splurge. Yesterday, in Morogoro they dropped our busload of wazungu (white people) off at this small Westernized grocery store. Oh. My. God. It was like the apocolapse was 10 minutes away, it was like a drunk person waiting 2 hrs for their pizza delivry at 2am, it was like, OH WAIT. it was like 50 Americans who hadn't seen cheese or ice cream or DORITOS in 2 months. I watched a 90 pound girl ravaging a full block of cheese. Full tubs of ice cream were being bought and NOT shared. Myself, I wetted my appetite with a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. Tossing the wrapper aside (in Africa, the world is your trash can), I licked my fingers (can't waste a morsel), and moved onto the Nacho Cheesier Doritos. 5 minutes later I shamefully ate a Snickrs bar almost biting my finger off in the process. For that 29 minute sugar high, my life made sense. Bliss, ecstacy, religion. I had it all.

Sadly, I lost some of my fervor for processed foods as a likeness to a higher power while I hunched over the choo saying wiping goodbye to all 12,000 shillingi ($12 and 3 days stipend). It was worth every.damn.penny.

Dairy goods? Everyone go out and eat somthing severely lactose today. Do it for me.

So here I sit, about 8 hours away from my fabulous lil village in Iringa, the southern highlands of TZ. I will be here for 1 week hanging out, seeing what it's like to actually be a PCV, and eating my body's weight in cheese.

On Saturday I head to Dar es Salaam where we will get Tanzanian bank accounts and our VILLAGE PLACEMENTS!!! Aug 12 I will know where I'll be living for the next 2 years.

So what else is the scoop? I've been so many fantastic friends. I am absolutely obsessed with my host family. My mama and I text eachother sometimes when I'm at school or away for the weekend. My sister is SO cool and has decided to say "OH MY GOSH" at some point in every conversation.

I hope to post pictures one day (mungu akipenda-said a lot here and means, if god wills it!)

OHHH GREAT NEWS. We ate our fucking rooster. In my last entry I believe I wrote somthing to the like of being woken up at 4 cuz it sounds like the rooster is at my window. Actually, it lived in the house, like the other 20 chickens. They just sleep in the house. YEP. Anyway, on JULY 27, we ate the rooster. I've been sleeping like a princess ever since!

Ok, my time is running out quickly, so sorry for you I have not had time to edit or even read this entry.

In conclusion, thank you everyon for your support. Some people get annoyed with me because I get so much mail. I read every letter over and over, and they have all made me SO happy. Seriously, I'm so proud of all of you, starting your lives and showing up to real people jobs.

OH FINAL thing....EVRYONE get skype and put a lil money on it and CALL ME!!!! it's like 25 cents a minute. just do it. and then drunk dial me.

KISSES to everyone.

I love my family and friends more than anything. I am so grateful for every one of you.

It's now5pm and it's time to present our shadow guy with a bottle of wine and Doritos. Lets get Sring Break Iringa rollin in high style!!

XOXO

How do I even begin? Everyday here is a new chapter in an adventure novel with no predictable plot. Still, I have managed to fall into a routine of the strangest accord. For in this new life kept sane only by some semblance of control, my 6:30am bucket bath and 8:30 pm bedtime are essentially all I can control.

My life is: foreign, basic, confusing, inefficient, full of learning, busy, and intense.

I live in a tiny village about 6 hours into the interior of Tanzania. I have no electricity or running water. I eat dinner by lantern and my toilet is a cement hole in the yard. I live in the bush.

A typical day:

4am-1st rooster crows

401am-dogs howling in response

402am-put in earplugs and doze in and out of sleep until

630am-wake up, bathe in a bucket with a pitcher (think lemonade) depending how cold it is, my pants may or may not come off

700am-get dressed, eat breakfast, wash my dishes outside, go to school

8am-5pm-SCHOOL, kiswahili all day, everyday

5:15-7pm-sit outside with mama and sister (dada) and help cook, do hw, and practice the langauge

7:15-730-din! For a meal that takes several hours to prepare we eat, quickly, quietly, and loudly :)

As for foods, WHOA leave it to me to go to Africa and get fat! I eat everything?! I think a parade is in order. I am now a huge fan of spinach, beans, mangos, papaya, cabbage, etc. ANYTHING. GO ME GO ME GO ME. I may be fat, but during a time when "mental health" is the most important, I'm happy.

This is my first time at a computer since Washington DC. I'm frantically typing away before being whisked back into the bush.

Everyday is a new ride of 10 highs and 10 lows. My reality now consists of pooping in a hole, wearing skirts everyday, and going to bed when the light is gone. Did I mention, I live in a roach motel? I 'endure' about 10 roaches a day. Usually I yell, DADA!!! She'll laugh and kill them, but the novelty of the scaredy cat American is getting old, fast.

I'm making a lot of great friends, and we meet as a big group once a week. I LIVE FOR THAT DAY. It feels America again.

I have so much more to say, but I can't rely on the internet much longer.

BUT GUESS WHAT!?!! I GOT A PHONE! CALL Me Or TEXT ME Right this instant!!!!!

from the states dial 255 787 788 683. The last 9 digits is my #. I think it's just 255 + the number, but google calling/texting to Tanzania to find out.

Lots of love,. Shout out to Huffy: my only letter so far. You made my week. You go girl. I read your letter maybe 10 times.

Lots of love and happiness to everyone.

Your pal,

Katie

Leaving tomorrow. SO FRAZZLED.

Staging was good. People are very friendly.

Can I do it? Probably not gracefully. I think I'm looking forward to a messy, uncomfortable, and pretty damn remarkable experience.

See you in Africa.

-K

My luggage is about 4 lbs over and 7 sq. inches too large.  Shh!  Don't alert airport officials.  

It's quite a desperate effort packing for two years.  It's like every last argyle sock is a must-have luxury.  I've hoarded as many first world items as could fit including everything from Ziploc containers to a kitchen knife and even rat traps.  After living in and traveling Africa last year, I'm convinced rules are made to be ignored or bent for a cash incentive.  Let's just see how this philosophy bites me in the ass over the next 3 days.

Guess what I had for dinner tonight?  A hamburger and french fries!  And naturally, I wore heels.  What can I say?  I'm just a hamburger loving, high heel wearing kinda girl!  It was a very fitting last meal.  Where else but America can you eat a $13 hamburger?  I think I'll be able to buy the whole cow for that price in Tanzania.   

Alright, we both know I'm stringing you along with useless information.  I promise not to write again until I have something valuable to contribute.  I don't want to cry wolf with so many blog posts from the 602.  We'll probably meet again in Washington, D.C.  

Until then!

Katie

Start writing letters NOW!  My address during training is:

Kate Glantz, PCVPeace Corps Training SitePO Box 9123Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

On average it will take about a month for letters to reach me.  Once I'm at my official site (end of August), I will have a new mailing address.  It is encouraged to hold off on sending packages until I am settled in at my site.  And get this... packages sent via surface mail can take 3-6 months to reach Tanzania!  When sent via air the time is about 3-8 weeks. 

Now that everyone is aware Tanzania's postal system bears striking resemblance to the Pony Express, you have no excuse.  Get out your writing utensils and stationary (or buy them) and try your hardest to remember how to print.  I'm not asking for cursive, calligraphy, or even a vibrant gel pen.  Just a sassy little note from the bottom of your heart.  :)  Gossip and secrets are encouraged.  After all, who am I going to tell? 

Let me be the cool kid at summer camp who has the best friends in the world and gets all the greatest letters.  

Lots of love to everyone.  

Your little adventurer, 

KG

AH, I leave in 12 days!  

After a good month of resistance in creating a Peace Corps blog, my cards are folded.  This foray into my beloved Africa will not be quite as whimsical (read: drunken) as my study abroad in Cape Town, but at the very least, it will keep us all a bit connected.  As my family works, plays, and gets taller (hi Harrison, Justin, Holly, and Noah!) and my friends start first jobs or (gasp) grad school, I will be getting dirty in Tanzania.

I leave June 7 for Washington D.C.  There I will meet my new partners in crime and get a few (or 10) needles stuck in me.  Since my only experience with Typhoid Fever was playing the Oregon Trail on a floppy disk in 3rd grade, I've decided to endure all vaccinations gracefully.  On Tuesday, June 10, I hop on a flight to Frankfurt, Zurich, then Dar es Salaam.  As for specifics, that's about all I know!  

My bedroom resembles a camping store turned upside down.  It's about time I fix it.

Stay tuned!