Yep, it's true--we finished two years of service with Peace Corps Tanzania and we got back to America on June 8th. There were many, many tearful goodbyes, and endless hours spent packing, purging and preparing to move from one continent to another. 7 checked oversize bags, 4 carry-on bags and a crate full of cats--we did not travel light. Everyone is happy and healthy and Tony and I are trying to readjust to life in America, which is not as easy as it sounds. Living in Tanzania was the experience of my lifetime, and I am grateful for every moment I had there--I wouldn't change a thing. Thanks for reading my blog.

Wow, so much to say! First of all, Pipi had two kittens on April 4: the first kitten is named Bonge, which means chubby or chunky, and the second kitten is called Soksi, which means Socks. We are, obviously, madly in love with them, and are planning to bring them all home with us. Should be a very interesting plane ride.

Tony and I were approved to finish our Peace Corps service on 5 June!! We are in a mad rush to the finish line, packing and finishing final projects and saying our goodbyes. Living in Tanzania has been the most enriching experience of my life so far, and despite the hard times, I am grateful for every minute I've spent here. We will bore you to tears with photos and stories. Our village is planning a goodbye party for us next weekend, and I think it will be very sad and emotional. Tanzanians don't like to see people cry, and I'm worried that I will give a lot of them anxiety with my inevitable tears.

We just finished our final Peace Corps conference; actually, it was more of a retreat, as we spent it at a lodge inside of Arusha National Park. All the people from our group--the people that we came to Tanzania with--were together for the last time to reflect upon the last two years of our lives and say goodbye. It was a really nice way to end, and this morning, on our way out of the park, we saw over 30 giraffes together, along with warthogs, zebras, buffalo and baboons. On the morning of my birthday, around 10 giraffes wandered up the driveway to the lodge, and I could see Mt. Kilimanjaro behind them. Unbelievable and unforgettable.

See you all very, very, very soon!!

1. The thing I am most looking forward to upon my return to the US is getting my hair cut. More than anything else: more than getting a massage, more than sitting down to poo, more than drinking tap water, more than drinking a soy chai latte--a haircut.

2. My sweet cat is about to have kittens. I have never seen kittens being born before. When we bring her home with us, I want to have her in the cabin of the plane with us but Tony thinks she will meow the entire 20 hour trip home; I think that would be really funny.

3. It is going to be very, very hard for me to say goodbye to my closest Tanzanian friends when we're finished with our service. There are no words to describe how their kindness has made me feel welcome and safe. Many of these friends have AIDS, which makes saying goodbye even more difficult.

4. I don't think I can happily live my life without all the tropical fruit I've been eating for the last 21 months (plus two extra months in Asia before we came to Tanzania).

5. I had no idea how hard this would be, for all sorts of reasons I never anticipated.

6. Traveling in Tanzania on public transportation (our only kind) sucks. There is no other way to say it. It is the worst part of living here.

7. Every single day, everywhere I go, everything I do: I am watched. When I walk down the road people stop and stare at me. When I hang clothes on the line to dry, people stop and stare at me. When I speak to someone at the market, other people stop to listen to me. When I sit in my courtyard, people try to see me through my fence. People yell at me to get my attention. I crave anonymity and I can't wait to be ignored again.

8. I worry that Tony and I will be really annoying when we come home: "When we lived in Tanzania, we..." Be patient with us as we work it all out. We will be different people when we come home than we were before we left.

9. I am really happy to be here.

10. Some of the things we've seen we will not be able to talk about; we have witnessed some awful things that would be extremely upsetting to talk about and hear about. So we won't tell you the whole story.

11. I wish everyone could live in a developing country for a while. It brings amazing perspective.

12. My favorite Swahili sentence: Karibu tule. It means "Welcome, let's eat." If a Tanzanian is eating something and you walk past, you will be invited to share. No matter how poor the person is, you will always be asked to join in. This is not special treatment because I'm a foreigner--everyone is always invited to join in. I love this about Tanzania.

13. Have I mentioned the fruit??

As usual, it’s been a long time since my last update. Quite honestly, I have lost interest (a little) in updating my blog; I feel like most of the things I have to say might be boring to read or difficult to understand. For example, I can write every single time about how important rain is to the people in our village, but until you actually set foot in Kibakwe, you cannot possibly understand what I mean. Life is so totally, completely different in rural Tanzania than anything you can imagine, despite how many movies you’ve seen or books you’ve read about Africa. So, having said that, I’ll do my best to paint a little picture of what’s been going on.

Speaking of rain—we just got the heaviest rain of the year so far. It rained a little yesterday—enough to put some buckets outside to collect it—but then it started pouring at midnight and continued for about 10 hours. Everyone went to their farms today to check things out; we stayed warm and dry inside, reading and cooking. These rains are desperately needed; crops have started dying. Dead crops mean potential starvation. Thank goodness for rain!!

Another thing to be thankful for: zambarau (plum) season is over. Approximately 4 million children came to our house to ask to collect plums—only a slight exaggeration—and trampled our garden beds and broke through our fence to sneak in when we weren’t looking. Grrrr. Tony has massive work ahead of him, re-building the beds and re-planting.

Here’s a random tidbit, to help put the Tanzanian travel situation in perspective: we live approximately 25 miles away from Mpwapwa, our banking and shopping town. It takes 2-2 ½ hours to get there by bus. It is faster to go from Milwaukee to Chicago than for us to ride into town to buy toilet paper. I’m not sure I will ever allow myself to complain again about traveling in the United States.

We are winding down our time in Tanzania, as our Peace Corps service is coming to an end in the next handful of months. We are focusing our sights on more hiv-related projects: vegetable gardens with our Persons Living with HIV/AIDS group; small hiv resource libraries at the hospital, women’s clinic and secondary school; creating Memory Books with our Persons Living with HIV/AIDS group; condom demonstrations at the secondary school. I’m sure we’ll come up with other things, but this is what we’re thinking of right now.

We took a little vacation when our wonderful friends, Brooke and Mike, came to visit us in late December. We did the triple threat: time in our village, safari at Mikumi National Park (we saw male lions!) and Zanzibar. We had an amazing time together; Brooke baked a chocolate cake over our charcoal stove, and Mike helped fill buckets with water when our faucet came on—quintessential Peace Corps Tanzania experiences. They met our friends, saw our village, said hi to some wild animals, swam in the Indian Ocean and shopped for treasures in Stone Town (Zanzibar). It was a perfect vacation, and they were troopers (sorry again about the cockroaches, Brooke).

What else? It’s fruit season in Tanzania, and the eating is GOOD. The freshest, juiciest, most delicious pineapples you can dream of; papayas that will convince you that you love papayas; mangoes that drip down your chin and make you say “am I really eating something that tastes this good?”; bananas that taste more banana-y than you ever thought possible. One of my favorite ways to enjoy the fruits of the season: make coconut rice (with fresh coconut milk made from grated fresh coconut), sprinkle on some raw sugar (the only kind we can get), top with chopped tropical fruit. Close your eyes and marvel that you were born in a human body that can enjoy such wonders. Truly one of my favorite parts of living in Tanzania.

Pipi hajambo. Anawasalimia sana. (“Pipi’s fine. She greets you all a lot.”)

The dust has finally settled after our event and the numbers are in: for World AIDS day 2008, a total of 1,251 people were tested for hiv; 9 were positive. Hundreds and hundreds of hiv educational materials (books, pamphlets, and posters) were distributed; there was fierce competition for Tony’s hand-sewn AIDS ribbons and for the t-shirts we had printed (the t-shirts read: Ninajua Afya Yangu. Na Wewe Je? This translates as: ”I know my health. How about you?”) We showed hiv-related videos and held the first-ever candlelight vigil; people publicly told their stories about becoming infected with hiv, which is brave in any country, and there was lots of singing and drumming. There were small bouts of drama over the three day event, which we now understand is normal, and our garden hose got stolen when we weren’t at home, but all in all, I am proud of this project. It’s impossible to know the impact of our presence here, but I’m hoping that with every hiv-related thing we do we are raising awareness of the magnitude of this disease in Tanzania. In other project news: I managed to show 8 of the 10 planned hiv-related videos at the secondary school before running into a snag. Towards the end of the school year, which is late November, the students have final exams, plus they start helping their parents to prepare the fields for farming; the last few videos were poorly attended because so few students were still in town—most left school early to get started on farming. Good lesson to learn. I will show the final two videos to our hiv support group, which is called Kikundi cha Upendo (which means “Club of Love”). We have been spending a lot of time with that group, which consists mostly of people living with hiv or AIDS; we talk about nutrition, health issues, medication issues, stigma, and anything else related to hiv. It’s hard to believe, but many, many people here (not only in Kibakwe, but I’m guessing in Tanzania as a whole) do not understand how they were infected with hiv, and they do not understand the progression of the disease and the need to stay as healthy as possible (and avoid other diseases, like malaria or diarrhea, which are particularly hard on people without fully functioning immune systems). I am inspired by so many people that I have become friends with who are infected with hiv; many of them have come to accept their disease without anger or resentment, and are eager to help educate others. They are the sole reason I am here. The rains have started! We have had 5 or 6 big, hard rains, and everything is turning green: our living fence came back to life, the mountains look like broccoli, Tony is working in the garden every day (pulling weeds, preparing beds, planting seeds—the sunflowers have already sprouted!), and our beloved giant zambarau tree (remember from last year? It’s a plum tree) has begun raining tiny purple plums all over our yard. It’s amazing how the rain and clouds improve my mood and outlook here—like we were all dying of thirst and now we’re coming back to life. It’s hard for those of us who don’t farm for a living to understand the absolute necessity of rain—imagine putting ALL YOUR FAITH in the rain, all your hopes for food and money (from selling your crops) for your family’s well-being. Water is life, and living here has illustrated that in ways I could never imagine. Pipi my beloved kitten is doing very well. She is probably about one year old by now, and has gotten very courageous about exploring; she climbs trees (with the great ambition of catching a bird, but so far hasn’t gotten one) and hunts with tenacity (lizards, insects and mice are her preferred objects of prey.) She still purrs more than any cat I have ever known, and sleeps curled up against my body every single night. I love her. How’s my mood? Up and down, quite truthfully, which has been the case ever since I got here 1½ years ago. I’m proud of how far I’ve come; I’m proud that I can speak Swahili, and I’m proud that I’ve managed to live in a difficult environment for as long as I have. I’m sad that I’ve missed so many happy things back home (babies being born, friends buying houses, friends falling in love, friends getting married), and when I have a case of the blues here, realizing all those things that I’m missing is extra sad. We won’t be on the beach this year for Christmas, but we’ll be in Dar es Salaam with Peace Corps friends, enjoying some luxuries that we usually live without. Some dear friends from home are coming to visit us after Christmas, and we are counting the minutes until they get here. So—we’re in the home stretch of this phase of our lives, and have started setting our sights on the next goal (grad school and MAYBE a baby, if you can believe it). I hope this update finds you happy and healthy and grateful for everything you have. Ninakutakia heri ya Krismas na mwaka mpya (“I am wishing you the happiness of Christmas and the New Year.”)

This is going to be a completely honest blog update. I am really struggling right now: struggling with motivation, struggling with optimism, struggling with enthusiasm, struggling with the blues. I''m not quite sure what happened, but everything suddenly became very, very difficult. While we are going full steam ahead with our World Aids Day plans (massive hiv testing event over 3 days, with music, movies, singing, dancing, drumming and a candlelight vigil), and my hiv movie days at the secondary school have been a big hit, some of our other projects are fizzling. Our English and Art clubs at the secondary school have had dwindling attendance; Tony's wrote a grant to buy sewing and gardening supplies for our orphan's group and many of them have lost interest in learning to sew or maintain their garden; we have had big problems with water, just like last year; people have been begging from us worse than ever. We don't honestly know who wants to be our friend because they genuinely like us or because they want something from us. We have most definitely put ourselves out there and are doing our jobs the best we can, but I think this is pretty typical of development work: people lose interest in projects and simply wait for the next handout. I have lost heart. I am burned out. My posture is hunched because I have subconsciously started trying to "hide" from the constant, relentless staring--I cannot do anything without being stared at like the pink elephant in the living room. No, don't send somebody to come and get me--I'm going to ride this out and see where I end up. I am doing my best to take care of myself, but right now, I am looking forward to the next chapter of my life, post Peace Corps Tanzania. Sorry. I warned you it was going to be the whole truth this time.

In other news, we managed to find a tv in Mpwapwa to watch some election coverage, and we got to see Obama's acceptance speech. I am so very proud to be an American.

We are just finishing up a week in Dar es Salaam for our Mid Service Conference-- we had medical check ups, dental cleanings, and processed our first year of service. It was a good week, really nice to hear from our fellow volunteers about their projects and plans for the second year--a nice exchange of ideas. So we are heading back to our village after an exciting week in the big city, eating as much pizza and yogurt as we could lay hands on.

I am sending out a call for puzzles--yes, puzzles. Tony and I were talking about fun, useful games for the kids in our village, and we remembered puzzles! If anyone is interested in sending us a care package of puzzles, we would be most grateful--easy puzzles for the little kids, and difficult puzzles for the high school kids. We're trying to provide as many options for positive after-school activities as possible. Thanks!

So I had an idea that I'm really, really excited about, and I wanted to share it. I mentioned our Orphans group, Tumaini, in my last blog entry. Well, I started thinking about the stories that they told us about their lives, and I decided that I would like to try to informally publish a book of their stories--stories about being an orphan or vulnerable child in Tanzania. Once we get home from Dar, I'm planning to meet with them to talk about my idea and see if they're interested, but I expect a lot of kids will want to participate. I'm going to ask them to write their story, or write a poem about their lives, or draw a picture that represents an experience of their lives; then I'm planning to translate their stories in English, then, somehow, take all those stories and assemble a book so their stories can be heard. If this idea goes anywhere, and we actually sell copies of this book, the profits can be used to start a scholarship program to support these kids in continuing with their studies after high school. What do you think?

I haven't been home in a week, but I hear Pipi's hajambo (Pipi "has no issues").

Remember me? It’s been a long time, so much to write about!

Our Community Theater workshop in Morogoro (back in July) was really fun: lots of singing, dancing, game playing, and performing skits. The idea of “play as education” is extremely popular in Tanzania; our counterparts, Madinda and Renfrida, absolutely loved it, and are really excited to use some of our newly acquired ideas and games in Kibakwe.

I started an English Club at our secondary school (high school) a few weeks ago, and it’s going really well. We meet after school two days a week to practice speaking simple English. Students in Tanzania are taught English in high school but comprehension is not high; teachers usually just write sentences on the blackboard and students copy and memorize—that’s it. Ironically, the English teachers here in Kibakwe don’t even really speak English. Anyway, we’re having lots of fun, and I’m trying to be creative with my teaching methods. My focus is not to teach sentence structure or grammar—that’s too technical. I’m focusing on building self-confidence when speaking English, correct pronunciation, and comprehension. People tend to be quite shy when learning to speak a new language—certainly true for me as I was initially learning to speak Swahili. I think it’s important to not be afraid to make mistakes. Email any ideas or suggestions for my club—I’m open to anything!

Tony is continuing to meet with his Art Club at the secondary school two days a week as well. His group of students really love to draw, so they hang out together and draw and chat. He’s trying to encourage creativity, a concept that’s not really taught or valued among children.

We started another club at the secondary school called Tumaini Club; tumaini means “hope” in Swahili, and it’s a club for orphans/children living in difficult environments. There are 59 kids in this group, all of whom are miraculously attending high school (incidentally, about 340 kids regularly attend high school in Kibakwe), and there are countless other orphans in Kibakwe who do not attend school. At one of our first meetings, we asked them to talk about their lives and help us learn about their living conditions. They were shy, but some students really wanted to tell their stories. We also asked them to write about their situations; we brought the papers home, Tony translated them, and it was absolutely heartbreaking. Almost any orphan you see in Tanzania is most likely the result of one or both parents dying from AIDS. You have probably heard of the expression OVC, which means Orphans and Vulnerable Children. In Tanzania, a child (under the age of 18) is considered an orphan if one parent dies, and children are considered vulnerable if they live in difficult situations (being cared for by grandparents or other relatives because parents died, sick parents, alcoholic caretakers, abuse, etc.) Our plan with the Tumaini Club is to offer the opportunity to learn various trades, like gardening and sewing, to enable the students to earn a little money. I’m sure I’ve written about this before, but as a high school student here in Kibakwe, there is absolutely no chance of having an after-school job to earn extra money like kids in America do—the options are simply not there. They have already started a garden (actually, all of the secondary students planted a vegetable garden) and have started selling mchicha (Tanzanian spinach that grows in 3 weeks) to the vendors in our market! Later on this week we are meeting with Tumaini Club to teach them our Peace Corps permaculture methods of gardening (digging extra deep so roots can grow down and not require as much water, plus using lots of manure) to help them grow more vegetables, thereby generating MORE income, plus learning about the value of eating a diet rich in vitamins and minerals—from their veggies! Last week they started to learn how to sew—my counterpart, Renfrida, is a tailor, and she, in conjunction with one of our teacher friends, Nickson, also a tailor, are teaching them to make patterns and sew clothes, plus other things like dolls and pillows. Our challenge, as Peace Corps volunteers, is to take the resources that are available and funnel them into viable projects that will continue in our absence. In this gardening example, the resources that are available are land for a garden, small amounts of water mostly every day, and students willing to work hard. Tony has written a small grant to try to buy some supplies to support these OVCs in their income-generating efforts: buckets, hoes, a hose for watering, vegetable seeds, a non-electric sewing machine, and basic sewing supplies like thread and needles and scissors. Once these projects get fully underway, we will evaluate their success and possibly work to get additional sewing machines and other supplies for these kids. Another income-generating idea I have is making peanut butter, which I think I’ve written about before. Peanuts are one of the main crops grown here in Kibakwe, and people use peanut flour in cooking lots of different foods. Everyone I’ve shared my peanut butter with (I buy it in Mpwapwa, and it’s made in Arusha, a region far away from us) loves it; if the Tumaini kids are into it, we’ll try to get them a grinder so they can grind and sell their own peanut butter. I have to say that I’m really excited about the possibilities of this club; the kids are enthusiastic, and energy is high.

Yet another project I’m planning is showing hiv-related videos at the secondary school. I have written a small grant to rent the TV/VCR, and am currently waiting to get the money. This project is aimed at providing an after school activity that’s fun, interesting and useful for the secondary students. Madinda will be my counterpart for this project; we’ll show videos every week for 10 weeks, then have a group discussion following each one. All students will be invited, and I’m expecting a high turnout.

Why, you might ask, are we doing so many projects at our secondary school? The answer is simple: we have a great Head Master (principal) who supports every project idea that we come up with—he’s worked with other Peace Corps volunteers in other parts of Tanzania before, he speaks English really well, and he genuinely cares about his students. He was transferred to Kibakwe last March, right before our Women’s Day event, and that’s about the time Tony and I started to feel like things were falling into place. That’s also the time that we met Madinda, our fantastic counterpart, and Nickson, the secondary teacher who also really cares about the students and wants to make things better. The last 5 months have been about discovering the “gems” here in Kibakwe who have a genuine interest in their community, and we found them.

Yes, a few more project ideas are floating around: starting a support group for People Living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA)—an idea from the head doctor here in Kibakwe; spending some time with the little kids at the primary school (grade school), who also has an excellent Head Master; and finally, planning a HUGE World Aids Day (December 1) hiv testing event. Whew!

Tony and I hosted a shadower here in early August—a new Peace Corps Trainee who arrived in Tanzania in June of this year. So hard to believe that was us one year ago! Shadow week is so the new trainees can live with current volunteers to see what Peace Corps life is really like, and we had a great time. We then had the opportunity to be Volunteers of the Week for the final week of new trainee training. We went to Dar for site announcements, where all the trainees learned where they were going to be placed, then we went with them back to Kilosa, the town where training takes place, to help participate in the permaculture (gardening, Peace Corps style) presentation. Being Volunteer of the Week means that you hang out with the trainees during part of their training, answer questions, and share your experiences as Peace Corps volunteers. Again, we had a great time, and it was really fun to see our homestay mama, Mama Chacha, in Kilosa!

Pipi hajambo. (Literally translated, this means “Pipi has no issues.”) Which is to say that our kitten is doing very well, and we love her.

We are well into the dry season here in Kibakwe. Everything that was once green is now brown: mountains, trees, grass, gardens. We are getting water out of the faucet in our yard most nights, not every day, all day, like it was for the last few months. We have one small bed of veggies growing; we are working on replacing the fence of thorns to keep the dreaded chickens out of our yard, and are sprucing up our garden (cleaning and re-forming the beds) for the coming rainy season.

Everyone said our second year of Peace Corps would be better than the first, and it’s turning out to be completely true. Our Swahili language skills are solid, we have great friends in our community, and projects are underway. We are really happy to be here in Tanzania, and can now recognize how difficult the first year was for us. Having said that, no matter how great of an experience this is, we miss home and everything about it: people, places, foods, and comforts. Usitusahau! (“Please don’t forget us!”)

Yep, we took a vacation, and it was spectacular. Our dear friend Joanna came to see us for three weeks, and it was excellent: we spent time on the beach in Zanzibar, we spent time in our village, and we went on an amazing safari to Ngorongoro Crater and Tarangire National Park (highlights: we saw rare black rhinos, lions, elephants, zebras, warthogs, hyenas, giraffes, wildebeest, flamingos, and ostriches). We took LONG bus rides with chickens at our feet (and occasionally on our laps), got clothes made in our village, ate ugali (the staple food of Tanzania, which is corn flour cooked with water--like polenta, only flavorless), baked a cake on our charcoal stove, shopped in the markets, got henna tattoos in Zanzibar, bought beaded jewelry from Maasai women, slept in a FANCY tented camp after our safari, and swam in the Indian ocean: a perfect holiday, minus one extremely clever thief who stole our camera bag from right above our heads on the bus. It was so fun to see Tanzania through the eyes of a visitor--and show off our Swahili language skills. Everyone was healthy and happy throughout, including our favorite Peace Corps friend, Stephanie, who was with us for Zanzibar and the safari. Check Tony's blog in the next month or so--he'll post pictures.

Pipi the kitten is doing extremely well; plans are already underway for bringing her home with us when we finish our work in Tanzania. Some Peace Corps friends just took their dog back with them when they finished their service, and they said it was extremely easy.

Tony and I have two new counterparts who we'll be working with on projects in the future; my counterpart is named Renfrida (or Mama Cocu, as she's called in our village), and Tony's counterpart is named Madinda. They are really motivated and excited to work together, particularly within the schools and with our fellow villagers, which is exciting for us. They were both doing volunteer work with hiv/aids before we arrived in Kibakwe, so I think we'll all work well together. We are taking a break from our dudes, who have been unmotivated and largely absent for the last few months; we need a breath of fresh air. We are all together in Morogoro right now for a Peace Corps workshop which starts tomorrow; as always, I'll keep you posted.

There is a bit of drama in Mpwapwa right now, but nothing to be alarmed about. Within the last 6 or 7 months rubies and sapphires were discovered in some mountains close to Kibakwe. As a result, LOTS of strangers are passing through and/or settling in Mpwapwa and Kibakwe these days: people from other countries who have come to buy the stones, and Tanzanian miners who have come to dig these stones and make a LOT of money selling them to the foreigners. Because we're foreigners, too, the miners who don't know us think we're there to buy the stones like all the other foreigners. There has been an increase in robberies, and the price of everything has skyrocketed. So far Tony and I have been safe, and we're very well liked in our village, so I'm hoping our fellow villagers will keep looking out for us. Things in our area are changing every single day--it's like a gold rush, and I'm extremely concerned about the very realistic possibility of hiv rates rising as a result of all the transient people with spare change in their pockets (men far from home + extra money=prostitution opportunities). A serious health threat, no doubt. Stay tuned.

Yes, it's been a long time since my last blog entry, sorry to keep you in suspense. Our computer time has been particularly limited lately, so without further delay, here's the news:

Kibakwe is turning brown. The rains stopped in March, and we won't get rain again until November or December. The weather is chilly at night, the sun is kali ("fierce") during the day, and the winds are starting. The farmers have mostly harvested their peanuts and corn, and are working on harvesting sunflowers (to make into cooking oil) right now. After the harvest, there is no additional farming work to do until October or November, when it's time to start preparing the farms for the next planting. That means that the upcoming months are a good time for projects that involve the community (as opposed to projects that involve students or teachers) because people are around (not on the farms) and have time. Unfortunately, the "months of rest" also offer ample time for pombe (home-brewed alcohol) consumption, which, in my opinion, contributes significantly to hiv infection rates. I read an excellent book, recommended by a good Peace Corps friend, called The Invisible Cure, by Helen Epstein. It discusses hiv/aids in Sub-Saharan Africa, and the various projects by charitable organizations that have succeeded and failed with regard to hiv/aids intervention, and the reasons why. If you're interested in this subject like I am, you will read this book--really, really interesting.

Despite the lack of rain, our garden is still doing pretty well--in spite of the chickens who manage to sneak in and eat everything they can. We got a steady supply of Chinese cabbage (the chicken's favorite), beets, green onions, lettuce, green beans, mchicha (local spinach), green peppers, and a few squash and zucchini. Cabbage and carrots look promising (they take a little longer), and our papaya trees (we planted dozens) are doing extremely well--we're hoping to get fruit by the end of the year. Our tomatoes were a disaster--not one single tomato. We have a water pump in our yard that has mostly been working (the water line that supplies our pump gets cut off from time to time, and these random "line diversions" will become more and more frequent the further into the dry season that we get), so we've been able to water our garden almost every single day. There are very few vegetable gardens in Kibakwe (there are lots of huge farms, in contrast, which rely exclusively on rain for water), because water is such a huge problem; as a result, there are very few vegetables to buy in our tiny market (most veggies come from Mpwapwa, which actually really come from Morogoro or Arusha, where there's rain all year). The reason I'm saying this is because people have been knocking on our door every single day, asking to buy veggies from us. Our dudes, Gilbert and Zizo, took the initiative to create a large garden of their own, hoping to make some money selling vegetables to meet the demands of our villagers. The used the concepts of permaculture that they learned from one of our Peace Corps workshops; the garden looks really good, and they've actually begun selling things. Hongera sana ("Congratulations!!")

Pipi the kitten is great, as sweet and affectionate as any cat I've ever met in my life. I've only heard her hiss once, at a strange boy cat who started coming around when she was in heat. I honestly can't tell if she's pregnant. She doesn't help keep the chickens out of the yard--she could care less, frankly, but she does like to hunt for mice and bring them under our bed to play with/eat them. She sleeps with us every single night, in our bed, which Tanzanians find hilarious when I tell them. I explain that Americans really value their pets (specifically, dogs and cats) and treat them really well; I do this to try to demonstrate that there are other ways to interact with animals other than beating them, which is normal behavior here.

Tony and I each conducted a one-day hiv/aids seminar last month; his audience was the villagers who are members of the various hiv/aids groups that exist in Kibakwe (the groups don't actually do much, but they have meetings occasionally, and expressed a strong interest in learning accurate hiv/aids information), and my audience was the primary and secondary school teachers of Kibakwe. In general, the workshops went really well, particularly the workshop for the villagers: they were thrilled to receive books about hiv/aids and nutrition (donated by Peace Corps, written in Kiswahili), and our head doctor (the main presenter) did an excellent job of engaging everyone. Each workshop was a little different, because not all the villagers could read and write, but all the teachers could; knowing this, the doctor made sure he adjusted his teaching style and vocabulary accordingly. Everyone was fed breakfast and lunch, got to watch videos about hiv/aids issues like stigma, and left with a pile of books. For days after, people came to our house or stopped us in the street, telling us how great the workshop was, how they can't wait for the next one. The dynamic with the group of teachers was different; they appeared less interested and engaged than the villagers, and some were irritated that they didn't get a posho-- a daily wage paid to people so that they attend workshops or other events. Tony and I decided long ago that we would not offer posho to people when we organized events; we feel like paying people to learn is not within the spirit of learning, that education and educational materials were the most important thing to go home with. Unfortunately, the posho system is alive and well in Tanzania, and it's a big problem, but we're not going to do it, despite the grumblings from the teachers. The preparations for our workshops were huge, but we did them together, and are happy with our results. We have submitted all the paperwork to close these grants, so once everything is finalized, we can work on the next projects: Tony wants to paint a giant mural about hiv/aids with his art club students on a wall in town that everyone sees every single day, and I would like to do weekly video showings (I got at least 10 videos about hiv/aids and related issues from Peace Corps) at the secondary school. We are also working with the secondary school head master and teachers about ideas for income generating activities for the students, so prostitution doesn't have to look like the best option. Stay tuned!

Our one year anniversary of living in Tanzania is June 12, two days from now. I have a very hard time believing that I've lived in Africa for the last year. So where am I, mentally and emotionally and physically, compared to a year ago? I understand the extremely complicated nature of the problems of Tanzania, particularly about health issues, much better then I did one year ago--understanding the dynamics of life in Tanzania is difficult, and sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but I can now observe and understand a little better WHY people make the choices they do. I still get frustrated that I can't speak Kiswahili fluently, but again, I remember where I was one year ago and am amazed at how far I've come. I feel tired here a lot, which I mostly attribute to living under the microscope 24 hours a day; people are endlessly interested in me and what I have to say and where I'm going and what I'm doing and what I'm cooking and what I'm wearing. I've learned to accept that I will be laughed at and scrutinized every day: if I wear American clothes I am stared at and if I wear Tanzanian clothes I am stared at; if I speak Kiswahili perfectly I will be laughed at, and if I make mistakes with Kiswahili I will be laughed at, too. My body is thinner, because we walk a lot, cook all our own food (except when we travel outside of Kibakwe), and usually don't eat snacks; I have diarrhea much more frequently than I did in American (bet you're happy to know that!!), which I think is because of all the poop we live with: every single day I see donkeys, goats, cows, pigs, chickens, guinea fowl, ducks, cats and dogs, walking the streets and pooping everywhere. Even if I wash my hands religiously and boil my drinking water and eat only my cooking, which I do, I am still surrounded by poop. I miss America and I miss my friends and family and I miss comfort and ease and feeling like I can let my guard down. I worry about money and jobs and what our futures will look like when we leave Tanzania, and I worry about feeling angry with Americans for having so much and being so wasteful. I am so happy to be here and to have all the experiences I am having, and to know that my perception of the world will forever be colored by my time in Tanzania. Thanks for reading.

I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating my blog. I realize it must be boring and frustrating to check for any new updates and find nothing, time after time. Thanks for sticking with me. So here's the news, some of which may explain the dry spell in writing my blog.

Tony and I got our grants approved, which is great news. Our grants were written to get funds to sponsor two different HIV education days, one for Kibakwe's teachers, and the other for Kibakwe's HIV/AIDS support group members. Our head doctor will be the main teacher, along with our next-door neighbor, a nurse midwife (and my most favorite Tanzanian friend). There is a serious lack of information about HIV in our area, so we are doing our best to fill that need. The scheduled dates for our workshops are May 17 and May 24, so we are up to our ears in preparations right now. Like I've said before, Tony and I are excellent planners and organizers, so I expect everything to run smoothly, and for participants to be really, really happy with the workshops. We have already purchases all the supplies, gotten a ton of books (in Kiswahili) about HIV from the Peace Corps, hired some mamas to cook everyone breakfast and lunch, and are showing a short video, also in Kiswahili. More than anything else, Tony and I view our roles as Peace Corps Volunteers in two ways: first, as positive role models in our community, particularly for the high school students, and second as event coordinators for activities that relate to health and well being. We have access to resources that our villagers don't know about, so we try to funnel those resources (books, educational opportunities, and interesting videos, to name a few) into Kibakwe with the hopes that the recipients will pass their new knowledge onto others. This is what sustainability means. We'll take lots of pictures and will post them after we finish.

After the HIV workshops are completed, we have a whole new situation to throw ourselves into: the recent confirmed discovery of prostitution within the high school. Here's the bottom line: Kibakwe is very, very far away from just about everything, and the opportunity to find work just doesn't exist. There are virtually no means of earning extra money, and high school students, like everyone else, like to drink sodas every once in a while. Unfortunately, prostitution seemed like the obvious answer. I can't stop anyone from doing anything, but the least I can do is make sure they understand about protecting themselves from HIV. There are also problems with alcohol and marijuana abuse (I imagine this is a similar challenge facing high school students all over the world, actually), and, as always, I link everything to HIV infection. I wish I could offer these kids the opportunity to continue on to higher education after they finish high school (IF they finish high school, which isn't very common), but there really aren't scholarships and grants for Tanzanian colleges and technical schools like there are in the US. How do I offer a glimmer of hope?? Still trying to figure that out.

Tony was sick for a couple of weeks, but has now completely recovered. We thought it was malaria, but it turned out to be a staph infection from scratching his bug bites. One quick trip (ha ha, nothing is quick!!) to Dar es Salaam to meet with the medical office confirmed this diagnosis, and after the course of antibiotics, he's fine. I've had the blues--life is hard everywhere, I know, but it seems that sometimes the bad stuff about being here piles up on my shoulders and kicks my butt from time to time. Best solution is to bake a cake and eat it, while curling up with a book. No one said this would be easy.

Pipi the kitten was just in heat, so I might be a grandmother ("bibi" in Kiswahili) in the near future. I've never had a pet that wasn't spayed or neutered before, so this was a first for me. Not fun. She's fine now, back to her sweet, affectionate and loving self.

We are entering the winter months, and the temperature at night has gotten chilly--it's been dipping into the 50s, which has Tanzanians getting out their hats and coats. Don't laugh, those of you in Wisconsin--remember that we live in the desert in Sub-Saharan Africa, and it's HOT here. Feels good to use a blanket at night.

I just celebrated my 36th birthday in Kibakwe! It was a quiet, relaxing day; Tony made torillas and guacamole, and I baked a cake. No fan fare, just mellow. A fine day.

Enjoy spring in the US. I wish we could see the daffodils and tulips and smell the lilacs, my most favorite signal of spring. We miss you.

It's been raining almost every day, and we couldn't be happier. The farms are doing well, and our garden is green and lush--people are really happy, hata sisi ("even us".)

We had a house full of Peace Corps friends for Easter, which was great. In case I haven't mentioned it recently, our house is TINY, and we had 7 of us total, sleeping on every available surface. We cooked lots of delicious food, listened to music, laughed a lot, and enjoyed relaxing together.

Our Peace Corps supervisors were very pleased with our grant proposals for the hiv education days, and we should have no problem getting the funds. Considering this was the first time we ever wrote grants, I think we did pretty well. Tony and I are great planners and organizers, and I'm expecting these projects to go really, really smoothly.

What else? Pipi the kitten is happy and healthy, and I've really grown to love her--I miss her when we're away from home. I'm actually thinking of bringing her back to America with us!

On a personal note, I would like to say a special thank you to everyone who has made the effort to keep in touch with us. I cannot possibly explain how happy it makes us to get emails, letters or text messages from home. This has, without question, been the most difficult experience of our lives, and support from home makes everything a little brighter. It was our choice to attempt something like this, it's been incredibly difficult, but we're happy to be here and our connections with our families and friends make us feel stronger. Asanteni sana, tunawapenda ninyi wote ("thank you all very much, we love you all.")

Yep, I can speak Kiswahili. Can you believe it?

Why, you may ask, are there no photos on my blog? Because I don't know how to put them there. Once we get a new hard drive for our laptop, Tony claims he will teach me how. While you're waiting, check out his blog--he has lots.

It's POURING rain in Mpwapwa right now, and we are thrilled! I'm hoping this storm makes its way to Kibakwe to give the farms and our garden a little lovin'.

The results are in: our Women's Day hiv testing event was a BIG success! Our doctors and nurses tested a total of 313 people (WAY more than I thought we would), and 7 turned out to be hiv positive (five female, two male.) 11 secondary students made posters advertising the day, which we posted all over town; over 30 secondary school students sang, danced, and played drums; a group of mamas also sang and played drums, and we all marched together in a big parade, gathering people as we went along, from one end of town to the other. The head doctor, who was our main supporter in organizing this day, hired a dj (who had HUGE speakers) to play music, which attracted tons of curious people. Everyone was very, very pleased with the amount of community interest and involvement, and we are more eager than ever to continue doing hiv-related projects. In fact, we are working on grants to sponsor two hiv education days: one for our town's teachers, so that they can confidently implement hiv education into their teaching, and the other for our town's members of an hiv/aids awareness and outreach group, so that they can confidently educate and support their fellow villagers. Anyway, three disappointments from Women's Day, despite how well it went overall: our counterparts, Zizo and Gilbert, didn't show up to help us, because of family problems; the testers ran out of testing supplies (they didn't expect such a high turnout), so there was a period of 2-3 hours while we waited for more to be brought--did people lose their motivation to be tested because they had to wait??; and finally, not a surprise, the majority of teenagers that I spoke with that day refused to be tested because they were scared to learn the results. As one young guy told me, "I am afraid to test because if I learn today that I have hiv, this is the last day of my life." This will be our biggest obstacle, truthfully: helping people overcome their fear of learning their hiv status. By and large, most people in our town (maybe in Tanzania??) just don't want to know. This is why we have an AIDS epidemic. Our head doctor estimates that 15% of the people in Kibakwe are hiv positive, and it was recently confirmed from the headmaster of our secondary school that prostitution is an on-going concern within the student body population. We have a lot of work to do; as we say in Kiswahili, hatua kwa hatua ("step by step.")

Ok, other delightful news: I am recovering from my first case of intestinal amoebas, or some other lovely creature that decided to take up residence in my colon. Not pretty, that's all I'll say. Once I'm back in America, I will never again take for granted the comfort and grace of having explosive, uncontrollable diarrhea while sitting on a toilet.

We haven't had much rain, which is freaking people out. Our water supply from the pump in our yard has been mostly uninterrupted, so our garden is coming along really well. Tomatoes, carrots, cabbage, various greens, cucumbers and zucchini have all started, as well as sunflowers. We pray for rain and study the skies every day; if it doesn't come, there will be disastrous results for the farmers--and just about everyone in Kibakwe is a farmer. No rain=no crops to sell=no money to buy food. Please send rain vibes our way.

Pipi the kitten is continuing to purr her way into our hearts. Truth be told: I am her favorite person. She likes to spend her days playing in our neighbor's cornfield and climbing our fence, pausing occasionally for naps on my lap.

Other regions of Tanzania have had lots of rain, so our big veggie market in Mpwapwa is exploding: giant cabbages, mountains of avocados, huge carrots, fresh peas, watermelons, and squash are currently in abundance. In sad news, mango season is over, and pineapples are dwindling. I already mourn the loss. Now that I am on the mend from my recent bowel adventures, I will again be cooking giant pots of coconut rice and spicy peanut sauce, my current faves.

We hear that spring has arrived in the states. Enjoy the melting snow, the emergence of green grass, and maybe even the daffodils that might be peeking out. As always, I'll keep you posted. I am sending love and smiles from Tanzania.

Yep, that's what I was called: Dada Mkali, or a Fierce Sister. This isn't meant as an insult--it usually means a person who takes charge and gets things done. It can also mean a person who's mean, usually from drinking too much, or just an overall nasty person. In my instance, it was meant as the weird compliment, as someone who gets things done. This description was uttered by a Peace Corps driver, heard by a friend, and was re-told to me not too long ago. My favorite Peace Corps employee was described as mkali, and I really like her, so I decided not to be upset. That's why I'm here: to get things done.

We're had an incredibly busy past two weeks. We finished our malaria sign campaign, and our village leaders are THRILLED with the signs that Tony made. We successfully taught our first permaculture/nutrition class with our dudes, and it was really well-received. I was overwhelmed by how interested our villagers were in learning basic food group and nutrition information. Actually, the preparations for this class took up most of our time, but it was worth it. We gathered our first harvest of mchicha (Tanzanian spinach), and it was delicious! The rains have been minimal, which is a source of stress, and we study the skies every day. Here's the big news: we came up with our idea for an International Women's Day project for March 8. We wrote up a proposal for a big HIV testing event to take place on Women's Day, in honor of women and with respect to protecting them. We showed our proposal to our village's doctors, nurses and leaders, and they loved the idea. Our leaders are going to get students to sing, dance and play drums at the event, and some of the "power mamas" want to organize a parade and carry signs in honor of women. So this little, tiny idea of ours is blossoming, and we're going to keep nudging everyone to keep the ball rolling--excitement is contagious, and all we did is plant the seed. I'm hoping that over 100 people will get tested for HIV--that's my personal goal, just a number I picked out of the sky. Maybe no one will get tested, maybe everyone will get tested--I'm preparing myself for either outcome. One thing is certain: people are very, very afraid to be tested for HIV here, and would rather just not know. I'm hoping for three things: to help people overcome their fear of knowing their HIV status, to help people stay healthy if they are not infected, and to help infected people live positively with their disease and stay as healthy as possible. My next blog update will let you know. How will you celebrate women on March 8?

Yes, Pipi the adorable kitten is doing well. She looks at me and starts purring, and sleeps on my belly during the night. She is afraid of dogs, is disinterested in chickens, and is endlessly fascinated by blades of grass and the rug at the foot of our bed.

As I'm writing this, it's 5:45pm, and the most glorious breeze is blowing through the computer lab. This is my absolute favorite time of day in our little part of Tanzania, when the sun stops being harsh and the breezes start blowing. When we're at home, we're usually cooking and listening to music during this time (called "jioni" in Kiswahili) and winding down the day, and I really love it. Tonight we're going out for dinner with some of our Mpwapwa Peace Corps friends: we're in the mood for chipsi rosti, which is fried potatoes cooked in a delicious tomato/pepper/garlic/onion sauce. Last night I baked a pineapple upside-down cake, and avocados are coming into season. We're doing ok.

We're settled back into life in Kibakwe, and things are moving along smoothly. Our fence is finished, and we now have a gate as well--no more uninvited chickens, guinea fowl, goats or cows wandering around our yard. It's pretty spectacular, actually--it's a living fence, meaning the trees that were cut down to make it re-sprouted and are growing back, and are producing leaves that people here like to collect and eat. Gilbert's wife taught me how to collect the best leaves, then pound them into a paste with garlic and boil with onions, tomatoes and peanut flour--really delicious, called kisamvu. This is a tribal dish, really common for our region's Wagogo people. Our garden is also coming along well; Tony and our dudes have double-dug (a technique in permaculture where you dig a garden bed twice as deep as normal so the roots grow down, not out, thus producing stronger, more productive plants in a smaller space--also utilizes a series of channels to collect rainwater and minimize erosion--really cool) at least 8 beds, and we've planted mchicha (Tanzanian spinach), tomatoes, carrots, cabbage, Chinese cabbage, butternut squash, zucchini and papaya trees so far--other things to plant in the near future include melon (seeds from US), other greens native to Tanzania, corn, beans, peanuts, and lettuce (seeds from US.) Tony and I and our dudes are teaching a permaculture gardening class in a few weeks, planning to introduce these easy gardening techniques to our villagers with the hope that they will return to their homes and plant small gardens nearby, thus improving their health through increased veggie/fruit consumption; I'll do a small piece on nutrition, and I'm really looking forward to it.

What else? We've started our malaria sign campaign, which involves making signs about malaria prevention and posting them around our town. Our town's head doctor really liked our idea and gave his full approval to our prototype. We finished one sign already and will do several more, hanging them in strategic locations like the veggie market, the health center and the schools. We also met with our next door neighbor, the town's nurse midwife, and had a long meeting about women's health and reproductive issues in Kibakwe. She and I will go to the secondary school (high school) and give some lessons about birth control and other issues related to sexuality. Tony and I would like to start video nights, where we show videos about HIV and related subjects, then have a group discussion afterwards; again, we would like to focus these efforts within the schools, because we think it's important to focus on the students. Finally, we're planning to start a little English class at our house, for those students interested in REALLY learning English; all of secondary school (high school) is taught exclusively in English, yet almost no one graduates being able to really speak or understand English. The students simply copy everything from the blackboard into their notebooks and memorize it for exams, without comprehending much of anything. International Women's Day is March 8; trying to come up with something great! Whew! Lots of plans, so many ideas--no harm in trying anything, because even if a project fails, we'll know we tried.

Our kitten, Pipi, is thriving. She has almost doubled in size since joining our household, eating a steady diet of dagaa (dried sardines) and powdered milk every day, plus table scraps. Her fur is thick and shiny now, and the sores on her nose have gone away. She is also proudly wearing a flea collar, courtesy of a dear friend in America--no more fleas!! She purrs like crazy, loves to eat bugs, and sits on our front steps every day, surveying our yard like a watchdog. When she wanders off, she goes over to our neighbor's house and curls up on top of their cable box (it's warm) and has a nap. She's unbelievably cute.

Tony and I are in a good groove; we're healthy and excited to have projects underway. We miss the comforts of home and the people there every single day, and regularly play the "if you could eat anything right now, what would you choose?" game. Home will still be there, veggie burgers will still be there, bloody marys will still be there when we finish this gig. I'm really trying to focus on the present: I live HERE right now, and I need to keep my mind here. It's easy to start spinning: where will we live when we finish in Tanzania? What will do? Will we buy a house? Where? What about grad school? Kids? Exhausting. I'm here, trying to enjoy my beans and rice one plate at a time.

We're back in Mpwapwa after our HIV workshop in Dodoma. On the second to last day of the seminar, we all went to a primary school near our training center to do some practice teaching about HIV. We worked in a group of four: me, Tony, Zizo and Gilbert, and we prepared for a few hours the day before. The preparations were not exactly how I would prepare for teaching by myself; lots of time was spent drawing straight lines with rulers on our teaching notes. I was sort of dreading the experience, because I was worried our "dudes" would get shy and clam up, and I'd be forced to teach with my limited Kiswahili. Ok, I was worried for nothing. Once we got in that classroom, our dudes sprang to life--they kept everyone interested, they managed the students well, they solicited questions and kept everything moving really smoothly. Tony and I watched with our mouths open, handing them chalk or paper when they needed it. Wow. They totally rocked, and we told them so afterwards; they could not have been happier to hear how pleased we were. THAT'S why we're here--to train teachers, to facilitate events, not necessarily to teach ourselves. That's the philosophy of Peace Corps--one day we'll go home, and we need to leave behind people with the interest and ability to continue educating in our absence. I consider this a huge success; these kids needed a chance to shine, we gave it to them, and they stole the show.

We got a kitten last week. She was meowing like crazy underneath one of our windows, and I went outside to see what the commotion was. Our yard was full of 12 year old boys who had come to gather fruit from our fruit tree (more on that later), and they joined in my efforts to catch the kitten. I got her and brought her inside and gave her milk. Then she started purring and rubbing against my legs--that sold me on keeping her. The group of boys had gathered in our courtyard at this point and were eagerly helping me choose a name for her, because Tanzanians don't usually name their pets--this was hysterically funny for all of us. We decided to name her Pipi, which is Kiswahili for "candy." She's mangy and dirty and covered with fleas, she has a scab on her nose, and she likes to eat bugs--but she purrs all the time, and loves to cuddle on my lap. What was I supposed to do? By now, one week later, people ask about her and come over to visit her. We're more popular than ever.

We have a fruit tree in our yard; it's a Zambarau tree, and its fruit is like tiny plums, as big as a fat kalamata olive. Tanzanians have trouble saying the "r" sound, so it sounds like "zambalau" when they say it, and that's what we say now, too. Our tree is literally raining zambalau--the branches are heavy with the dark purple little babies, and every time the wind blows, hundreds fall to the ground. People are in our yard all day long, gathering fruit from the ground or climbing the tree to get it. At first it was charming, and we quickly learned which fruits were good and which were sour; now, it's a little annoying, because we probably hear the word "zambalau" about 300 times per day. I won't be that sad when the zambalau season ends. Zambalau, zambalau, zambalau, zambalau, zambalau. Zambalau.

We're in Dodoma for the week, attending a Peace Corps workshop about HIV/AIDS. We were just settling back into the rhythms of life in Kibakwe after our holiday in Zanzibar, so I wasn't overly excited to travel again. However, we brought our usual counterparts, Zizo and Gilbert, and they are STOKED to be here and learn about HIV and go back to Kibakwe and start working on projects together. I've got lots of ideas about HIV-related projects; I am most interested in working with at-risk, out-of-school youth, which is the demographic with the highest rate of new HIV infection in Tanzania. I am also interested in working with the secondary school students, because I like teenagers. From everything we've learned so far, it's best to start with small, manageable projects, like coaching peer educators or starting a health club. We really have endless options--we are the first Peace Corps Volunteers in our town, and everyone has been so welcoming and supportive of our project ideas. With Peace Corps, you are completely in charge of your projects--you decide what you want to do and who you want to work with. As always, I'll keep you posted.

Here's the honest truth: being here is the most stressful experience of my life. The cultural adaptations are easy: over-crowded buses, squatting to poop, cooking with charcoal, boiling drinking water, learning to live without cheese, creative ideas about being on time. All easy--sometimes frustrating, but easy. The single most difficult thing for me, the thing that causes me endless stress and literally fills my head at night when I'm trying to fall asleep, is not being able to speak Kiswahili fluently. I am doing extremely well, considering I've only been speaking it for the last 7 months, but I am not a sophisticated speaker, and cannot always say what I want to or always understand what is being said to me. This is more frustrating, more maddening, more tormenting than you can imagine. I know that I'm being hard on myself, and I know that I'm doing very well, but it is absolutely necessary to speak Kiswahili here--there's just no English spoken in our town, other than the bits that Zizo and Gilbert can say--and I just want to live effortlessly. So there it is. I traded the stresses of life in America for the stresses of life in Tanzania. But I'm glad to be here, and I'm hoping that we'll have some success with our projects and that it will all be worth it.

Zambalau?

We're in Zanzibar for our first official vacation! We spent the first 7 nights on the beach in a town called Paje, and it was lovely: nowhere to go, nothing to buy, simple bungalows on the beach, good Japanese food at our Japanese-owned hotel (we found the 1 tiny local cafe, too, because we were missing our usual beans and rice!), almost empty beaches with powdery white sand, more seashells than I've ever seen on a beach in my life, and, of course, swimming every day in the Indian Ocean. Really, really nice. Yesterday we left the serenity of the beach for the chaos of Stone Town, which is the main tourist town on the island. We're staying in absolute luxury: our hotel has air conditioning, cable tv, fluffy towels, and a bathtub! Yep, we're living large before we head back to the realities of our town. Speaking Kiswahili here is a secret weapon, because NO ONE expects that we can; thousands of tourists come here for vacation(for the beauty of the ocean, the great shopping, and the famous doors of Zanzibar), and almost no one can speak the local language, but we can, and people stop in their tracks! I have to admit that it feels really good to have this ability, and it definitely helps when it comes to bargaining for all the treasures I'm dragging home. So we're tanned and relaxed and had a nice time for our first Christmas in Tanzania.

Funny glimpse of Peace Corps Volunteers on vacation: our hotel in Paje had clotheslines on the porches for people to dry their beach towels and bathing suits. In very typical Peace Corps style, we all washed our clothes--all of them--in our rooms, and dried them on the clotheslines instead of our bathing suits. You can spot a Peace Corps Volunteer from a mile away because you'll spot the jeans and socks drying on any available surface.

So tomorrow is New Year's Eve. My plans for the last day of 2007 include receiving a massage (my first in almost 7 months!!), eating Indian food, shopping a little, then putting on a new dress and listening to a dj on a rooftop bar overlooking the ocean while the New Year comes around. I am wishing you all health, happiness, contentment and gratitude for 2008.

We arrived in Dar es Salaam yesterday, late in the afternoon, after a 9 hour bus ride from Mpwapwa. Interesting bus ride from Mpwapwa: we came upon a different bus that was broken down on the muddy road, and it broke down right next to a bridge that's under construction so we couldn't pass. After about 45 minutes of contemplating, our driver got the idea to pile rocks up on the not-finished bridge so make it more passable; then he told everyone to get off the bus. We all climbed off and waited in the ditch to see what his plan was: he gunned the engine and, at about 40mph, flew over the not-quite-finished bridge where the rocks were recently laid. It worked! We got back on the bus and waved at all the people who were still stuck in the broken down bus. After we got to Dar, we spent the evening walking around, eating everything in sight (Subway subs, ice cream, Chinese food.) Right now we're at Peace Corps headquarters taking care of some paperwork before we head to Zanzibar on a ferry tomorrow morning. Our plumbing problem is being repaired as I write this so when we return to our site, everything should be ok.

In the spirit of the holidays, I wanted to mention something about our intended projects in our town. For some of the things we have planned, we need to write grants to get the financial support to make things happen. Depending on the nature of the project (repairing a broken water tank, for example), we need to solicit the funds through the Peace Corps website, with something called a Partnership Grant. Tony and I have not finished writing our first grant proposal, but when we do, I am appealing to the generous spirit of our families and friends back home to help us actualize our projects and make our new home of Kibakwe a healthier place for everyone to live. I will keep you posted as this process continues. Thanks in advance for your interest in our efforts here in Tanzania.

Speaking of holidays, this is the first Christmas of my life that I haven't been in a cold, snowy place to celebrate. I suppose lounging on a tropical beach on Zanzibar in my bathing suit will have to be good enough! It's also very strange to be here without any of the Christmas shopping hype that is so pervasive in the US. Truth be told: I don't miss that part at all. So we're on the road (and on the water) again tomorrow--I'll write next time from Zanzibar.

Poop is an unpleasant thing to think about, but it's been at the forefront of my mind since we returned to our site last week after our workshop in Dodoma. We returned home with some Peace Corps friends who wanted to visit our town, and the first two days were good. Late Saturday night I noticed a foul odor coming from our sewage holding tank, which has been slowly oozing for the last 2 months; upon closer inspection, with a flashlight, we noticed it leaking sewage in a steady stream. Tony grabbed a shovel to dig a little hole for it to run into until we could see properly the next day, and the corroded pipe burst and sewage began flowing. Oh boy. Our houseboy/friend, Gilbert, heard the commotion (he lives next door), woke up, grabbed his shovel and helped Tony shovel dirt over the leak to absorb everything. We knew our sewage system was really old and in terrible shape, and we've been waiting for proper support in fixing it. The time has come--no more procrastination. It burst again the next day, unprovoked, and early this morning I noticed another slow ooze. Now everyone really believes that we have a problem. Everything will be fixed, finally, while we're on holiday in Zanzibar, so we'll return home to a proper toilet situation. To add insult to injury,on our way out of town this morning, all I could smell was the manure from the farms. Enough poop for me.

We're getting ready to leave Dodoma and just stocked up on the essentials: avocados and passion fruit. Do I think about food constantly? Yes, particularly since I live in such a tiny town where a wide variety is simply not available.

I forgot to mention something really interesting that we did when we first got here last week. We had the chance to visit an orphanage called "Village of Hope" (or "Kijiji cha Tumaini" in Kiswahili.) This particular orphanage is run by an Italian Catholic priest, and has 150 HIV+ kids under the age of 15 living there. In one word: inspirational. He told us the story of his orphanage, then took us on the grand tour. The facilities are amazing, but more important than that was watching him interact with these kids: the love in his heart knows no boundaries, and he hugged and kissed and cuddled every child he passed. They were equally happy to be with him, too, jumping into his arms or holding his hands. He originally started the orphanage to give these kids a place to die peacefully, knowing what love feels like. With proper love, nutrition, health care, and a clean roof over their heads, the kids started thriving, not dying, so he has had to keep expanding the facilities (first a primary school, now a secondary school which opens next year.) His mission on earth is to give these orphans love, and it's working. I left with high hopes of working with him at some point during my Peace Corps service.

Ok, back to food. It's time for Indian (we found the secret Indian restaurant here in Dodoma) and I'm hungry. Not really--I just ate more yogurt. But that won't stop me.

Howdy from Dodoma! We're here for a Peace Corps conference and will be leaving in two days. We got here 10 days ago; that means we've had 10 days of hot showers, tv in our hotel room, TOILETS, fans, air conditioning during our lectures, yogurt, ice cream, and avocados. Wow. I think I've re-gained 5 of my lost pounds (only an American would say that.) It's so nice to be here with all our PC friends, exchanging stories about our sites and catching up on all the PC gossip. It just poured rain and I'm covered in mud right this second because I couldn't wait for the rain to stop before I went to the market to buy avocados. So we're all here together, learning about grant-writing and permaculture gardening (better health through small gardens near your house.) After the conference is over we go home for about a week with a bunch of our friends who want to see our house; then, a group of us are going to Zanzibar for Christmas and New Year! Christmas on the beach=perfection. We are so excited!!

So what's new at our site? Not much. Fence is almost finished, water tank is awesome, garden is planned. We have a lot of ideas for projects in the new year and I'll keep you posted. Our Kiswahili is coming along slowly, but since we've been in Tanzania now for 6 months (can you believe it?), I'm amazed at how far we've come. I am infinitely more comfortable in the sketchy situations (bus stands, specifically) and I'm feeling attracted towards working with at-risk groups (like the sketchy young men who frequent the sketchy bus stands.) We continue to have ups and downs, which I have to believe is completely normal for a "stranger in a strange land." Most important to us is that we are well-liked in our town.

Funniest moment of the workshop: learning to say, in Kiswahili, "This person here, in the toilet, is my friend."

Funniest thing at our site: Zizo, our houseboy/counterpart, was looking especially sleepy one afternoon. We had a lengthy conversation in Kiswahili about his sleepiness. Out of nowhere he said, in perfect English, "I am physically fit and chemically balanced." Out of nowhere.

Right this second, I am looking at the biggest mango tree I have ever seen. There are hundreds of mangoes hanging from the branches; it's hard to walk in certain areas without stepping on the little underripe babies that fall too early. Kids throw rocks to get them to fall when they want a little snack.

We had Thanksgiving/Tony's birthday dinner last night at the Acropol Hotel here in Morogoro. It's owned by a Canadian woman who is really kind to the Peace Corps Volunteers here in Moro, and she cooked sweet potatoes, three bean salad and pumpkin cake for us, among other goodies. She also has a bunch of dogs, so we got a little dog-love, too.

Back to reality tomorrow, when we head home to Kibakwe. It's hard not to feel a little bummed out--Morogoro has tons of water and endless fruit & veggies, not to mention yogurt and other delicacies that we cannot get in Mpwapwa. I'm trying not to feel jealous of people who live here--I really like it here. The grass is always greener, isn't it?

We arrived in Morogoro early this afternoon, to celebrate Tony's 37th birthday and Thanksgiving, which both happen to be tomorrow! It's about a 4 hour bus ride from Mpwapwa, but today it took us 5 1/2--as usual, bus broke down. No problem--we're here now. We visited Morogoro one other time and really loved it, so we decided to take a few days off from our lives in Kibakwe and come to the big city. One of our Peace Corps trainers describes Morogoro as the bread basket of Tanzania: green, lush, water year-round, with the potential to grow enough food to feed everyone in Tanzania. As we traveled here today, the landscape slowly became greener and greener; when we got off the bus, one of the first things I spotted for sale (EVERYTHING is for sale in the chaotic bus stands of Tanzania!) were big, fat bunches of carrots. Nope, not in Kibakwe any more. We immediately took a daladala (minibus-like public transport) to the center of town and started eating, because Morogoro is an awesome place to eat; within half an hour, I ate 2 kinds of bagia (deep-fried, savory little puffs--like hush puppies), caramel ice cream, vanilla yogurt and fresh passionfruit juice. Good start. Next stop: public market. Giant piles of pineapple, bananas, mangoes, avocados, passion fruit, fresh peas, papaya, coconuts, oranges, limes and carrots--and all the other usual goodies that we can get in Mpwapwa, like cabbages, tomatoes, onions, greens, and potatoes. DEFINITELY not in Kibakwe any more. We're here with our friend, James, a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives in a village near Mpwapwa (he's one of our Mpwapwa peeps), and are staying with our friend, Albert, another Peace Corps Volunteer who is a teacher right in Morogoro. After internet: Indian food. Then maybe brownies. Mmmmm. Plan for tomorrow is nothing more than to eat all day long. I love vacation. But strangely enough, I find myself thinking about our little house, wondering what our houseboys, who have become our trusted friends, are doing without us. This year in particular, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I feel especially thankful for so many, many things.

It's official: we are living in the middle of a National Geographic photo spread. Last week we had four consecutive days of rain, and it's amazing how the landscape is changing in front of our very eyes. We took a short walk to visit the sweet old carpenter who built our water tank for us (it's finished! It holds water!), and we stopped dead in our tracks: all around us, in every single direction, are mountains, their trees coming to life with the first drinks of water of the season. The giant, lonely baobab trees have buds on their tips. At night in our town, because only a few of us have electricity and it's very dark, the sky becomes a blanket of stars. We were awake today at 4:30am (not fun, but necessary to catch our bus) and watched the sun come up as we traveled to Mpwapwa: pink and orange sky, sun emerging from behind mountains. Lovely. Right now, at the Mpwapwa market, are huge piles of mangoes, bananas, coconuts and oranges: summer is coming. Rain is life.

We've gathered in Mpwapwa for a good-bye party for our friends, Lisa and Russ, who are finishing their two years of Peace Corps service. We making pizza tonight, and we even have cheese--a cheese run to Dodoma was made last week. It's hard to say goodbye--seems like that's all we've been doing. Other friends, Becky and Jason, left our Mpwapwa family after an unfortunate incident of violence in their village--a crazy guy attacked Becky, and luckily she's fine, but they moved to a different village far, far away. So tonight we say goodbye again.

Our water catchment tank is almost finished at our house, and we're really happy. The heavy rains haven't started yet, so we're on time. Next week: work continues on our fence, and we might start digging our garden. Tiny, sour mangoes appeared in our market!

Some info I learned yesterday from the big post office in Mpwapwa, where we had to go to collect some care packages from home: best to send things to us as a "packet," not a "parcel," in a padded envelope weighing under four pounds. If not, we pay big-time customs fees on our end. After a lengthy conversation, both in Kiswahili and English, it was concluded that you do not get that option when sending things from the US. Our postal woman didn't seem to want to understand. Bottom line: "packets" arrive with a small, green customs card from the US on the outside, and "parcels" arrive with a large, white piece of paper from US customs on the outside. Parcels are inspected and we pay to receive them; packets are not inspected and we get them for free. This is the best way I can explain it.

Our moods are pretty good and our health is fine. Nothing out of the ordinary--just the usual problems with our bowels. We're cooking and baking, working on ideas for projects. Best idea for our first project: writing a grant to try to get out town's huge, water catchment tank fixed. It's made of cement and has been cracked for over 15 years. If the tank could hold water, many, many people could use the water for growing vegetables, thus improving health through nutrition. We think it would only cost about $1000 US, which is a fortune here. We'll see what we can do.

Favorite recent conversation exchanges, in Kiswahili:

"Nyemo, you're riding a bicycle." "Yes, I am."

"Nyemo, you bought spinach." "Yes, I did."

Upon getting off the bus, carrying two eggs: "How were your travels? How much did you pay for those eggs?"

Upon giving our houseboys a jar of peanut butter: "Thank you very much! How much did you pay?"

Food items most fantasized about currently: spicey pad thai with tofu, with green papaya salad and a thai iced tea.

Ok, limited time today. Here's the Kibakwe scoop: bedroom is painted (three paint choices: white, cream, light blue. We chose light blue. Our ceiling is white. We like to think of our bedroom as a big blue box from Tiffany with a white bow on top.Ha ha.) Got our cabinets-- our clothes and dishes now have a proper home. Fence continues for our garden--garden will be big and hopefully awesome. WE'VE HAD RAIN! Light rain, but enough to soak our towels that were drying on the clothesline in our courtyard. Our roof doesn't leak. Our water storage tank will be started on Friday--we found an excellent fundi ("carpenter"), a gentle,wise old man who has an excellent reputation in our community. We have some ideas for projects. Baked a cake for a well-respected mama in the community; got big points for that one. More requests for cake-baking lessons from lots of other women; thinking about holding cake-baking seminars where we talk about health and "women's issues" (there are lots!) while the cake bakes. Our houseboys are doing a great job; we invited them to come with us to our first Peace Corps conference in Dodoma in December. We are each supposed to bring a "counterpart," someone that we plan to work on projects with, to this conference, and Tony and I both would like to work with the at-risk youth demographic that is HUGE in Kibakwe--these guys are part of that demographic, and are really interested in learning how to be peer educators. Good match. Tony and I still fight, but we laugh more. We have a lot to look forward to for the remainder of this year--feels good.

American food items most thought about today: veggie burger with cheese, soft bun, lettuce, tomato, fried onions, pickles, mayo, ketchup. Crispy french fries. Spicy bloody mary. Warm fudgy brownie (no nuts, please) with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. This menu will remain a fantasy.

It's hard to believe that we've been living independently in Kibakwe for two months now. We have worked really, really hard to make our house as comfortable and inviting and lovely as possible, and this is primarily what we've been doing for the last two months. And we're not done yet. I think that I am much more productive when my living situation is calm and pleasing; this is why we're spending so much time on our house. The bathroom is almost completely tiled; many are broken, unfortunately, but the hardware store ran out of tile, so we had to use the broken ones anyway. We're considering it a mosaic design. Tony and our houseboys dug out the perimeter of our garden, and our boys have started gathering wood to use for our fence. Last week I taught 7 neighbor kids how to bake banana bread; this was a huge hit. Some of them knocked on our door two days ago and asked to be taught how to make chocolate cake--we're doing that next week. When I walked into town a few days ago to buy tomatoes and onions, my favorite veggie vendor said she heard that I bake cakes and that she would like to learn, too. Word is traveling fast. Whoever would have thought that my cake-baking obsession would link me with my new Tanzanian friends? So that's the scoop--we're setting up our house, hanging out with good kids, cooking and baking. Next week we're painting our bedroom, and hopefully our water storage tank (for collecting rain water off our roof--the rains will start next month, and we want to collect them for our garden) will be started. Still no place for our clothes--we continue to wait for the carpenter to finish our kabati ("cabinet for clothes.") We won't actually plant our garden until the rains start--there's just not enough water right now to get it started. In case I haven't mentioned it, scarcity of water is one of the biggest problems in the region where we live. Sometimes our water pump shoots water out (maji mengi="much water"), sometimes it trickles water (maji machache="few water"), and sometimes no water at all (hamna="none.") Last month our entire town of Kibakwe didn't get a drop of water in ANY of the pumps for 4 entire days. Major problem. Tony and I have several large plastic buckets that we try to keep completely full of water; this is what we used for cooking, drinking, bathing and cleaning for those 4 scary days. By the time the water returned, we were down to our last bucket. We can't figure out where exactly the water starts or who is in charge of it or why its dispersion is such a problem. No one seems to understand, actually.

One tidbit we learned this morning from our Peace Corps friends who are just finishing their two years of service here: packages are more likely to arrive here (without thievery or us paying customs fees) if they are sent in padded, bubble envelopes and weigh under 4 pounds. Obviously, this isn't always possible, but it's worth mentioning, just in case you're thinking of sending any treasures to us...

So how are we REALLY doing? It's hard to say. Without question, this has been the most challenging and frustrating experience of my life. Our lives here are still taking shape, and we still haven't figured out our place in Kibakwe or how we can help. We are still learning our way around our town, trying to remember people's names, trying to observe the rhythms of life here, trying to master this language. Some days we can't bear to leave our house; sometimes it just feels overwhelming to walk into town and have stunted conversations with people when all we really want to do is buy our eggs and rush back home. Some days we have a bunch of kids in our courtyard, looking at our maps and reading our English/Kiswahili dictionary, and everything feels good. Some days we get under each other's skin and fight; other days we just laugh and laugh and laugh at ourselves. We're here for a reason, and we remind ourselves of that every day. One thing is certain: we are more committed to each other than ever, and we daydream about the day we'll settle down (where? Excellent question!) and have a big old house filled with dogs and maybe kids and a big garden and a kitchen full of friends & family and warm chocolate chip cookies and vases of flowers and soft cotton sheets on our big bed and maybe, just maybe, a fire crackling in the fireplace. Indoor plumbing would be nice, too.

I have a new name, simply because the name Carla is almost impossible for Tanzanians to pronounce. They say 'r' and 'l' almost the same way, and cannot pronounce the two letters side by side, so if they try to say my name, it sounds like "Cala." Our houseboys, Zawadi and Gilbert, chose a new name for me: Nyemo. Nyemo means "happiness" in Kigogo--it's not a Kiswahili word. I simply introduce myself as Nyemo to new people, and they find it very funny that the mzungu ("white person") has a name like Nyemo.

So I'm going to show off a little and write a paragraph in Kiswahili so you have proof that I can almost speak this language. Don't worry--I'll translate. Remember--I'm not using a dictionary or a textbook. Prepare to be impressed.

Jina langu ni Carla au Nyemo. Nyemo ni rahisi kusema; Carla ni ngumu kusema. Mume wangu anaitwa Tony. Mimi ni mwalimu wa afya, na mume wangu ni mwalimu wa mazingira. Tulifika Tanzania tarehe kumi na mbili, mwezi wa sita, mwaka elfu mbili na saba. Sasa tunaishi Kibakwe, karibu na hospitali. Tutakaa Kibakwe kwa miaka miwili. Tunaweza kusema na kuelewa Kiswahili kidogo, lakini tunajaribu kila siku. Tafadhali, sema pole pole. Asante sana.

Now, the translation:

My name is Carla or Nyemo. Nyemo is easy to say; Carla is difficult to say. My husband is called Tony. I am a health teacher, and my husband is an environment teacher. We arrived in Tanzania June 12, 2007. Now we live in Kibakwe, near the hospital. We will stay in Kibakwe for two years. We are able to speak and understand Kiswahili a little, but we try every day. Please, speak slowly. Thank you very much.

Are you impressed??

More juicy details about our lives later--it's lunchtime.