One of the projects I've been working on lately is putting together a week long conference or 'camp' for 45 high-school aged girls in the Iringa region. Nine Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) will be participating, each bringing a facilitator and five students from their respective villages. The conference will be hosted at a vocational training center in the small town of Mafinga. For some girls, this will be their first time in town, first time to use electricity, and first time away from the mundane routine of house chores that monopolize their daily lives.

This Iringa region girls' conference, which will take place June 6th-10th, aims to empower 45 girls from nine villages in the Iringa region as peer educators with sound knowledge on preventing HIV/AIDS, promoting women’s health, and skills to make healthy life decisions. We have two objectives: (1) To improve the knowledge base of female students concerning HIV/AIDS awareness, transmission and prevention and (2) To empower girls with leadership skills through providing the knowledge and resources necessary to become peer educators on issues such as reproductive health and life skills. The sustainability of this project hinges on our hopes that after interactive sessions on a variety of topics ranging from the menstrual cycle to smart money management, these girls will return to their homes confident and motivated to share the things that they learned with their families and peers.

I have recently been criticized for working primarily (ok ok, solely) with women in my village. This girls conference project is the only project so far that I have applied for outside money to fund and therefore it is under attack. The concern arose when a male PCV who lived in my village from 2001-2003 returned to visit and the men that he formerly worked with complained that I wasn't doing anything to help them and so they preferred male volunteers. First of all, not a single one of these men has approached me to ask for help. In fact they don't interact with me at all unless it's to ask how I stay warm at night all alone in my bed. Second, I am a woman. And, even here in Tanzania, thankful to be a woman. While it has taken some time, I'm learning to navigate the social circles of women in Nyololo and they're beginning to accept me as a friend, as an advisor, and as a fellow woman. I feel more comfortable around women here. I can relate to the struggles of finding a husband with 'good manners' and sympathize with the daily hardships of keeping a house running. I can sit around with them, braiding hair, drinking tea and arguing over who has the prettiest fabric. I can be a role model to my young female students who often show up at my house on the weekends to flip through American magazines and use my camera to take their own glamour shots. I am a woman. Third, I simply have a strong interest in reproductive health. Now I recognize that no change will happen unless men are involved, which is why I fought to keep my "Life Skills/Health" class at the high school co-ed where issues of gender roles and reproductive health are continual discussions. I would love to involve more men in my health lessons at the clinic and I'm currently trying to figure out just how to do that. But at the moment, I work in the maternal/child/family planning office of the health center and the only people that walk through that door are women, girls, and boys under the age of five.

Finally, all the statistics are on my side. Development money, appropriately invested in women, yields results. I recently heard an adaptation to the fish parable that went something like, "If you give a man a loaf of bread, you keep him alive until the next day. If you give a woman a loaf of bread, you keep a family alive for a week." Now I certainly don't believe this is always the case and all men aren't evil. But the need for investment in women in the developing world is SO great. In sub-Saharan Africa, less than 1 in 5 girls make it to high school. Half are married (with multiple children) by the age of 18. Complications from pregnancy is the leading cause of death for girls aged 15 to 19. So why am I taking five promising young girls from Nyololo to this conference in June? Because I'll be getting the best 'bang for my [ok ok, PEPFAR's] buck' and they deserve some attention from the development world for a change. An article in Newsweek recently stated that less than 2 cents from every development dollar goes to girls and only 1 out of 10 youth programs is targeted at young females. The reason cited for this is that not much is known about how to help girls in places where gender roles are so strictly defined and culturally ingrained. I believe that big investments in changing infrastructure in these countries in ways that benefit women and show that they are a priority to society will have a significant impact. These include reducing barriers to girls' education, vamping up women's health resources and their access to these health centers, reducing the time required to collect water and firewood and prepare family dinners, and instating female leaders on local and government levels to provide role models (hey america, you could learn from this right now as well!). For my part, I'm going to take five of my female students to this conference and help them realize their potential by giving them confidence in their gender and skills to fight the uphill battle to demand the treatment they deserve.

I am having a great time planning this girls' conference right now, which currently involves speeches on female leadership from the district government, a career panel, a lecture on the science of HIV/AIDS, discussions on the risks of inter-generational sex, and of course fun sessions like afternoon yoga, spa night and a midnight dance party. If you want more information or would like to contribute, financially or otherwise, please contact me by email (katiemorris828@gmail.com). Thanks for the support!

Katie

One of the projects I've been working on lately is putting together a week long conference or 'camp' for 45 high-school aged girls in the Iringa region. Nine Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) will be participating, each bringing a facilitator and five students from their respective villages. The conference will be hosted at a vocational training center in the small town of Mafinga. For some girls, this will be their first time in town, first time to use electricity, and first time away from the mundane routine of house chores that monopolize their daily lives.

This Iringa region girls' conference, which will take place June 6th-10th, aims to empower 45 girls from nine villages in the Iringa region as peer educators with sound knowledge on preventing HIV/AIDS, promoting women’s health, and skills to make healthy life decisions. We have two objectives: (1) To improve the knowledge base of female students concerning HIV/AIDS awareness, transmission and prevention and (2) To empower girls with leadership skills through providing the knowledge and resources necessary to become peer educators on issues such as reproductive health and life skills. The sustainability of this project hinges on our hopes that after interactive sessions on a variety of topics ranging from the menstrual cycle to smart money management, these girls will return to their homes confident and motivated to share the things that they learned with their families and peers.

I have recently been criticized for working primarily (ok ok, solely) with women in my village. This girls conference project is the only project so far that I have applied for outside money to fund and therefore it is under attack. The concern arose when a male PCV who lived in my village from 2001-2003 returned to visit and the men that he formerly worked with complained that I wasn't doing anything to help them and so they preferred male volunteers. First of all, not a single one of these men has approached me to ask for help. In fact they don't interact with me at all unless it's to ask how I stay warm at night all alone in my bed. Second, I am a woman. And, even here in Tanzania, thankful to be a woman. While it has taken some time, I'm learning to navigate the social circles of women in Nyololo and they're beginning to accept me as a friend, as an advisor, and as a fellow woman. I feel more comfortable around women here. I can relate to the struggles of finding a husband with 'good manners' and sympathize with the daily hardships of keeping a house running. I can sit around with them, braiding hair, drinking tea and arguing over who has the prettiest fabric. I can be a role model to my young female students who often show up at my house on the weekends to flip through American magazines and use my camera to take their own glamour shots. I am a woman. Third, I simply have a strong interest in reproductive health. Now I recognize that no change will happen unless men are involved, which is why I fought to keep my "Life Skills/Health" class at the high school co-ed where issues of gender roles and reproductive health are continual discussions. I would love to involve more men in my health lessons at the clinic and I'm currently trying to figure out just how to do that. But at the moment, I work in the maternal/child/family planning office of the health center and the only people that walk through that door are women, girls, and boys under the age of five.

Finally, all the statistics are on my side. Development money, appropriately invested in women, yields results. I recently heard an adaptation to the fish parable that went something like, "If you give a man a loaf of bread, you keep him alive until the next day. If you give a woman a loaf of bread, you keep a family alive for a week." Now I certainly don't believe this is always the case and all men aren't evil. But the need for investment in women in the developing world is SO great. In sub-Saharan Africa, less than 1 in 5 girls make it to high school. Half are married (with multiple children) by the age of 18. Complications from pregnancy is the leading cause of death for girls aged 15 to 19. So why am I taking five promising young girls from Nyololo to this conference in June? Because I'll be getting the best 'bang for my [ok ok, PEPFAR's] buck' and they deserve some attention from the development world for a change. An article in Newsweek recently stated that less than 2 cents from every development dollar goes to girls and only 1 out of 10 youth programs is targeted at young females. The reason cited for this is that not much is known about how to help girls in places where gender roles are so strictly defined and culturally ingrained. I believe that big investments in changing infrastructure in these countries in ways that benefit women and show that they are a priority to society will have a significant impact. These include reducing barriers to girls' education, vamping up women's health resources and their access to these health centers, reducing the time required to collect water and firewood and prepare family dinners, and instating female leaders on local and government levels to provide role models (hey america, you could learn from this right now as well!). For my part, I'm going to take five of my female students to this conference and help them realize their potential by giving them confidence in their gender and skills to fight the uphill battle to demand the treatment they deserve.

I am having a great time planning this girls' conference right now, which currently involves speeches on female leadership from the district government, a career panel, a lecture on the science of HIV/AIDS, discussions on the risks of inter-generational sex, and of course fun sessions like afternoon yoga, spa night and a midnight dance party. If you want more information or would like to contribute, financially or otherwise, please contact me by email (katiemorris828@gmail.com). Thanks for the support!

Katie

So I've traded my flip-flops for rain boots, 5-course dinners for instant oatmeal, steamy hot showers with luxurious toiletries for a bucket and a bar of orange dish soap, remote controlled air condition for the bone chilling gusts of wind that blow through my shutters at night, and the companionship of my parents for the endless squeaking of thieving mice.

I am home. Home sweet home Nyololo. The past couple of times I've left my village and returned, the now familiar 10 km stretch of pot-holed hills has felt like the road home. The sight of my house as I round the bend and the shouts of "Kamwene!" ease my tiredness after the journey and I always sleep great the first night back in my own bed. I can't say I had the same feelings on this most recent return trip. In the 10 days I was gone, intense rains had washed out the road to the point i thought a small kayak may be a better means of transport than the rusty pieces of welded metal Alex drove. Eventually we reached my home where I discovered the rainstorm had found it's way inside my house and my living room was covered in a couple centimeters of water. To go to the bathroom I had do wade through ankle deep mud. Rats had discovered a bar of soap in my clothes box and chewed their way through. Ants, seeking shelter from the inhospitable conditions outside were crawling through my floor. yet these weren't the things that upset me. As I snuggled into my new leopard print flannel sheets that still smelled like an American department store I realized that the sadness I felt was because the last time I traveled that road, cooked in that kitchen, or slept in this bedroom, my parents had been right there beside me. Now they were gone and my life had returned to that of a typical Peace Corps Volunteer only at this moment I had an all too intense awareness of how far away those I love really are.

I was so happy to have my parents here and show them around my new home. The conversations, laughter, counsel and hugs will stay with me until the next time I'm able to see them. While traveling, I was even able to catch up with a good number of friends via technology usually absent from my life. The long dormant social side of me thrived and wrestling it back into the suitcase in the corner that holds my 'city clothes' will be no easy task. But it was worth it for the memories of my villagers giving my mom her first kitenge, orphan Serena crawling all over my dad's lap, playing banana grams on a beach in Zanzibar, long talks of 'the future' over gin and tonics on a porch, or watching the World Cricket Championship at the best Indian restaurant in Dar. And I realized that after my parents left for the airport, I cried not because I wanted to board that plane with them, but because they were no longer here. My homesickness isn't a longing to return home. It's a realization that my home is along way from a lot of people I care about. In the same way, I believe I'll experience homesickness for Nyololo when life carries me elsewhere. Here is my home for the next 18 months. I now feel confident it's where i'm supposed to be even if I haven't discovered all the details why Nyololo is home sweet home. Nyololo is one of many homes I'm sure to have in the coming years but I know none of them will be able to compare to the home I grew up in with the two most loving parents any girl could ask for...

This blog has been dead for way too long, I'm sorry. I'm in the midst of enjoying some much anticipated beach time with my two loving parents and I cannot express how happy I've been to have them here with me this past week or how appreciative I am that they made the long journey to catch a glimpse into the new life I've learned love. Inspired by reading Stanley's "How I Found Livingstone," my mom wrote this post about her recent trip to Nyololo:

How We Found Atu: Travels, Adventures, and Discoveries in East Africa

The airport in Dar es Salaam is unyielding. We had Johannesburg and Lusaka for comparison after spending 10 days in Mpanshya, Zambia where my husband did some teaching. The real reason for my journeying along was the opportunity to visit our oldest child in her home in Nyololo, Tanzania. A Peace Corps volunteer nine months into her first year, this was the second time in 22 years of life she had missed Christmas with her family. The first was when she boldly chose to leave us at 14 to help deliver supplies and rehab a dispensary in Haiti. That trip, along with other brief trips to conduct service projects in Honduras, Peru, and Bundibugyo, should have been premonition enough that ensuring the well-being of this child might involve more than the usual investment parents make in planes, trains and automobiles .

And so we found ourselves in Dar, “muzungu” with a penchant for choosing the wrong visa line and a series of ATM machines that would not deliver needed cash. We bargained with a taxi driver to please accept the last $24 US we had in our possession to get us to our hotel. That night a series of explosions happened at the nearby armory that literally rocked our hotel and led to an uneasy sleep. At 8 am the next morning we were armed with “doti” in the form of Tanzanian shillings to begin our trip across the country in search of a better understanding of our daughter’s world. We traveled through the city with its mix of new construction and dilapidated concrete ruins side by side. Endless villages peppered the highway with mud huts and women clad in colorful khangas sporting large baskets loaded with coal, cooking oil, or produce perfectly balanced on their heads. In between the towns, where the highway had been engineered with ridged speed bumps, our driver passed the local buses packed tight with Tanzanians at speeds of 100 mph. At a brief stop to visit the choo, we were swarmed with vendors for roasted cashews, renditions of the Last Supper carved out of ebony wood, and hard boiled eggs. Three hours west of Dar, we entered the Mikumi National game reserve. Now the buses passed us as we asked our driver to allow us to gawk at the impala, giraffes, and zebras that grazed unselfconsciously near the highway’s edge. Giant baobab trees majestically marked time. We left the reserve to wind along the Ruaha river where families of silver haired baboons boldly approached vehicles for handouts.

Katie advised that we call her when we entered the Mafinga district so that she could walk the six miles to the main road and guide us in. (It always startles me to be in a land where cell phones greatly outnumber the homes with indoor plumbing and electricity). It was the middle of the rainy season and the downpour started; she directed us to look for a man on a bike with a red hat at the turn off for Nyololo who would lead the way to her house. We must have been rather obvious as he appeared in dense rain, tapped on the window, and said, “you are looking for Atu, I presume.” I assumed it was a mis- pronunciation of her name. Without him we would never have located her along the winding, rut filled, mud trail that led into her cinderblock cottage tucked deep within the village. And “Atu,” the nickname with which she has been christened, is a local Wahehe tribe expression that means, “we give thanks”.

She welcomed us in traditional dress, a long embrace to bridge the nine months apart, and a meal of peanut curry and pineapple that she had prepared over an outdoor fire. Her walls are decorated with pictures of family and dear friends from home attached to pieces of African cloth. We were bearing the Christmas gifts she had requested: a non-stick frying pan, a sharp knife, warm socks (it actually gets quite cold in the highlands of Tanzania), flannel sheets, chocolate bars, Crystal Light, as well as a gift she had no knowledge of: a Kindle preloaded with How I Found Livingstone by H.M. Stanley containing rich history of the land she calls home. This child, who read little with the distractions of her modern life in the states, was now devouring anything she could find.

The three of us retired to her sleeping room, the one secure place from the rodents who remind her each day that they were the true owners of her hut. On guard for their rummaging, I slept little that night – but as I listened to the breathing of my first born and the man who helped make her, I felt profoundly blessed.

The next morning we carried water to boil for oatmeal and wash the dishes. Then it was out to make introductions to the people who now considered her part of their family. Katie’s fluency in Kiswahili had rapidly improved in the isolation of her village. Her Tanzanian Peace Corps partner, Mama Chalamila, has helped her integrate into village life and find meaningful work. A health care worker, she assists in the local mother/child nutrition and HIV clinics and teaches health education in the schools while she develops a project that will hopefully leave her village a better place. Privately she helps a local woman whose husband left her with two small children to develop life skills and tutors a boy who desires to learn English. She clearly finds pleasure and frustration in it all. She has developed healthy coping mechanisms to work through the frustration: a monthly weekend in Iringa with other Peace Corps workers, prayerful solitude, and regular visits to her favorite respite place which she saves for the last stop on our walking tour. An Italian mission organization founded an orphanage for children in her village left alone when their parents died of AIDS. A beautifully landscaped oasis, we round the corner to the pavilion where the children play to behold eight 2 to 5 year olds who run and crawl to her squealing, “Atu”. She has arms big enough for them all.

Our driver, a city boy who grew up in Dar quietly observes the experience. “Life is very hard here,” he tells our daughter as we part ways. Somehow she sees her way through. -Peggy Morris

In my kitchen after our reunion!

At the Orphanage with Cepha

14 January 2011

So when these long rainy days and my worsening cabin fever finally got the best of me, I took advantage of a sunny morning and went looking for work to do. And work was what I found! I was discussing with the clinical officer (like a P.A. or Nurse Practitioner in the States) my ideas for a Mama’s Care Group and the logistics of getting one started when he decided that instead of forming a new group, I should just teach my lessons to the mamas at the outreach clinics. I said I’d be happy to consider doing that as well but… and he cut me off saying, “Great! You’ll start the day after tomorrow!” Right then the thunder clapped and everyone ran for their homes before I could ask what kind of lesson would be best to teach. I returned home and poured over my PC resources and consulted other volunteers and decided that nutrition would be a great starting place. This idea was reinforced that night when I went to a friend’s house for dinner and watched her try to force-feed ugali (a stiff porridge made from corn flour with absolutely no nutritional value) down her 5 month old baby’s throat. I decided to teach a lesson on how and what to feed young children. Lucky for me the next day was a national holiday meaning everyone spent the day at their farms leaving me lots of time alone with my Kiswahili dictionary to plan the lesson.

I didn’t sleep much the night before, not because I was nervous but because I woke up around 2 am to a small furry mouse climbing the wall near my bed. I spent half an hour chasing it out and then proceeded to have Jumanji dreams of lions and snakes entering my house to take care of the mouse problem.

I walked to work the next morning as the rain clouds moved in. Rain clouds at 9 am are never a good sign here. At the dispensary I found out my counterpart was going to another village to do another outreach and the nurse had to stay at the dispensary because the clinical officer decided not to show up for work. This left me by myself to manage the 50 or so expected Mamas and teach the lesson. What was supposed to start at 10 am actually started at 12:30 and the conditions were less than ideal with a consistent drizzle and no cover but a village health worker and I managed to weigh, chart, and tally all the children and I taught a 20 minute lesson on what and how to feed children under 2. I stressed the importance of mashing up food, feeding multiple small meals instead of one big meal, and not giving young children tea, coffee, soda, or alcohol. The women seemed genuinely interested in the information although understanding my horribly accented Kiswahili was an issue. More than anything I learned a lot and gained some confidence for teaching. Afterwards I headed to my “duka Mama” (my friend who works in a small shop in my village and often cooks me lunch) to tell her how it went. She let me hang up the poster I had made at her shop and lots of people came up to ask me questions and I was able to teach the lesson again to a different audience! Things are going slowly but surely around here…

7 Jan 2011

I remember well what it was like trying to get back to the grind after Christmas holidays in college—everyone happy to see each other, week(s) of champions, avoiding the library for as long as possible. Well hello real world! Actually, I have nothing to complain about. While my friends in urban America were left unsatisfied by their long-weekend Christmas breaks, I had an entire month, between training and the holidays, spent with good friends, eating great food, and none of these silly snowstorms everyone keeps complaining about.

Now it’s been back to the grind of village life. Again, not that I can really complain, I spend many a rainy afternoon curled up on my living room mat reading novel after novel and many a long morning baking banana bread, drinking tea and flipping through Xmas package magazines. Doing things at a villager’s pace is what I tell myself. Integration, right? The excitement and motivation from training faded fast after I spent an entire day sitting at my shared desk in the health dispensary just waiting for someone to come seek my advice on why she should get tested for HIV or which kind of birth control is most appropriate for her or what she should feed her swollen two year old to get rid of that brittle orange hair. While waiting, not so patiently, I helped the staff put together their annual report using carbon paper, rulers and ancient calculators. I asked the nurse why, for the month of December, only five women, in a catchment area of 8,536, had come to the pre-natal care ward. “They’re using family planning!!” exclaimed the nurse happily. That led me to the newly constructed and copied chart on family planning. Only 20 women had come for FP services in December. My eyes rolled until they found more interesting information… less than 100 condoms had been distributed over the past four months despite the growing stack of hundreds of silver condoms on top of the water buckets. When I confronted the nurses about this, they giggled and said that villagers don’t like condoms. Well I don’t think anyone likes condoms, I said, but they’re extremely important, especially in a village where the HIV prevalence rate is somewhere between 7-20%. Shouldn’t it be our job to make them available and educate villagers on the importance of correct and consistent use? I was speaking about as passionately as my Kiswahili would allow but the nurse cut me off dismissively saying that the villagers were unable to understand. Well maybe there’s more of a need for my basic health knowledge than I though. The issue arose again the next morning when we were packing a box of health supplies for an outreach clinic the next morning and the nurse tossed aside the condoms to make room for the Nevirapine (an HIV drug used to prevent mother to child transmission)—sad irony.

The bureaucracy of running all over my village looking for a carbon copy of a special stamp from an M.I.A village official so that I could go meet an M.I.A headmaster to discuss the possibility of teaching a Life Skills course or watching village workers manipulate the statistics on the annual report to make my village seem better off health-wise have put a damper on the enthusiasm I had coming out of the Peace Corps Training in December. BUT waiting patiently, living alongside my villagers, I’m beginning to gain motivation for work from seeing a real need, which I think is much better in the long run!

Happy Holidays Everyone!

I'm on my way back from a 2 week training in Morogoro where we all brainstormed projects and learned how to write grants. I'm in my banking town buying food for a big Christmas party in my village this weekend! Several volunteers are coming to my village and we're going to try to make it feel as much like Christmas as possible. On Saturday we plan to go to the orphanage and hopefully one of us will be dressed like Santa Claus (I have my camera back so I'll try to post some pictures)! I'm really excited to have people to celebrate with!

In-service Training went really well! My nurse from my dispensary came for a week and we talked about starting some great projects in my village. Currently on the table:

-A Girls Empowerment Conference with the other volunteers in my area

-A dairy goat project for pregnant women living with HIV

-Permagardening with the HIV/AIDS group in my area

-A Mama's Care Group (uses a peer education model to educate families on basic good health practices)

-Nutrition classes at the Health Center

-Pre-natal classes at the Dispensary

-Life-Skills Class at the Secondary School

-Health Club at the Primary School

-Income Generating- Basket weaving?

These are all just ideas that I'll be taking back to my community and seeing what I can motivate them to get going. I'll also be doing a lot of survey work in my new area to get to know the needs a little better. If you all have any ideas for projects or advice for those listed above, please let me know! You all are in my heart his holiday season... I hope everyone is asking for plane tickets to Tanzania for Christmas! Miss you all!

Love,

Katie

23 Nov

It's 10:30 am. i'm in a neighboring village doing an outreach project with the nurses. Pre-natal check-ups and routine child vaccines. women have walked for hours to meet us today because there's no regular healthcare offered in their village. the women arrive in la rge groups cheerfully chatting-- i think they enjoy the day off from the usual farming and household chores. i sit in the back room where women wrapped in rainbows of fabric shuffle in and out with various sizes of baby bumps. a woman wrapped from head to toe in a soft purple sits in f ront of me and flashes her gap tooth smile as i fill out her pre-natal health card: Name? Age? Number of pregnancies? A measurement from her pubic bone to sternum tells us that she's around 20 weeks pregnant. She's sent out and returns with a mug of murky brown water and i start to administer the sulphadoxine/pyramethamine (SP)-- a strong malaria prophylaxis given to women to keep them healthy during pregnancy. a routine question before giving the three pill dose is "have you had any alcohol today?" I was putting the pills in her hand when i looked up and she flashed me a guilty gap toothed smile adn raised her eyebrows indicating a positive answer. I tried to disguise my shock when i glanced at a clock that read 10:48. My nurses did not do the same as shame tends to be the preferred teaching method here. they asked the other women in the room if it was ok to drink this early in the morning and 'tsk tsked' the woman in lavender. as i closed my hand and retracted my offer of malaria protection (i think the drug must interact negatively with alcohol) i tried to explain in my kindergarted kiswahili the dangers of drinking while pregnant. she lowered her stare and nodded her head as my nurses reinforced my message.

alcohol seemes to be related to just about every health concern i've noticed in the two villages i've worked in. the parents may be too busy drinking to feed their children. the head of the household may find his money better spent on bottles of pombe than school fees, hospital visits or malaria nets. i'm pretty sure alcohol is involved in just about every exchange of STI's including HIV. not to mention the detrimental affect alcohol itself has on one's body and in some cases, the young body growing inside. i've seen a need for a standardized ruberic for pre-natal counselling and i've considered trying to write some basic guideliens for the nurses in my village, in which i would definitely include the dangetrs of fetal alcohol syndrome. that's an easy starting point for alcohol education because the consequences are so clear. when i look around at all the other ways alcohol addiction is hurting my community (one upside is that it's often a great source of income for women) i'm at a loss for how to help. certainly sensitizing people to the many ways alcohol is affecting their lives would be an excellent project. but when you hear some of these people's life stories, it's hard to blame them for using alcohol as an escape. for the same reason that recovery programs in the West are led by former addicts, change in alcohol behavior here in TZ is going to have to be initiated from the inside. in the meantime i'll be looking for resources to educate and support my villagers in recognizing the problem.

Kamwene (Hello) from Nyololo! I’ve been in my new village for about a week and a half and things could not be more different from my last site. I keep telling people that I feel like I moved from Mississippi to Vermont and the more time I spend in my new environment, the stronger the comparison becomes. Instead of flat, arid groves of cashew and mango trees, I now live on a high ridge with rolling hills and timber forests. The air is crisp, mornings are cold, and produce abounds! One of the busiest roads in East Africa, which goes from Dar Es Salaam all the way to Zambia runs through my region and has brought numerous missionaries, NGOs, traders, and development workers. Unfortunately it has also given my new region the position at the top of HIV Prevalence charts in Tanzania. I’m still going through minor culture shock—at the moment I’m typing this up at a café in Iringa that could be in Asheville, NC. It’s brightly decorated with glass mosaics, comfy couches and a menu that includes things like baked potatoes, quiche, and chocolate brownies. I ate french toast and a banana chocolate milkshake for breakfast. Word on the street is that there’s an actual disco in town and I can’t wait to go dancing! Iringa is a three-hour journey from my home but hopefully it’ll provide a monthly shower, calorie boost, and sanity restorer.

I am the fifth Peace Corps Volunteer in my village and my village officers were a little apprehensive about accepting a new volunteer for the next two years. I’m feeling a little bit of pressure to prove to them that I’m worth their time and I have something to contribute that’s different from the past volunteers. That combined with the fact that I won’t even have three full weeks in my village before leaving for our three week in-service training (IST) in Morogoro in December have created a little bit of stress. My Zahanati (health dispensary) has been great to let me jump right in to work with them and I’ve been able to continue the maternal and child health care routine that I had began down South. The nurse who works there has helped me a lot with setting up my new house and introducing me to people in the village. An Italian NGO called Co.P.E. built a beautiful health clinic a 35 minute walk away from my house and they offer a wide range of services for HIV patients. I haven’t met the Italians working there yet but I’ve talked with some of the Tanzanian staff and I think I will be able to partner with them for a lot of HIV projects. Their organization also built an orphanage called Sisi ni Kesho (We are Tomorrow) right near my house and it is full of the cutest kids imaginable! As much as I hate to start all over again from scratch, I think this site will be a better fit for me. So far the only big challenge has been getting out of my village—it’s a three-hour hike to the road. I have my bicycle but it’s all uphill and when the rains come I have a feeling the road will be washed out. I can call a taxi from the junction but it’s pretty expensive. I’ll figure it out as time passes and hopefully it’ll just force me to get my butt in shape.

I miss my dirty South people dearly but the Iringa/Mufinga/Njombe crowd has been incredibly welcoming! We’re still making our Thanksgiving plans but hopefully we’ll be able to meet up at someone’s house, deep-fry a chicken, cook mashed potatoes, veggies, and chocolate brownies. Christmas plans are still in the works as well but I have a fireplace, an orphanage, and Mamo mailed me a small Christmas tree and decorations (thanks!) so I’m hoping to have some friends come to my house! I will certainly miss the holidays at home with dearly loved family and friends but this isn’t a bad place to spend the season!

LOVE

Katie

P.S. Come visit me!

My face has fully recovered and I might even say that this was all worth it for the few days I'm currently spending in the beautiful beach town of Mtwara. I have two wonderful hosts, Moss and Merritt Driscoll who have been so kind to let me invade their space for a week while I wait for a Peace Corps car to pick me up and take me to pack up my house. It's been relaxing to spend time talking, cooking and laughing with people instead of my usual routine of doing all of that, but by myself. Friday will be an emotional day trying to get everything in buckets and boxes and saying goodbye to all of my friends in Namajani in the short span of an hour or two. But I know I'll hold onto the memories I've made there and I will hopefully be able to visit them occasionally in the next two years. I've also been hearing a lot of encouraging things about the Iringa region so aside from the strong warnings that I will need thick wool socks and hats, I'm getting really excited for this move!

Here's a link to my future site-mates (Dan Waldron) blog:

http://www.danzaniatime.blogspot.com/

And my new address:

Katie Morris, PCV

P.O. Box 469

Makambako, Tanzania

I'll be enjoying Indian Ocean sunsets and thinking about how much I miss all of you! Life is good here, come visit!

LOVE,

Katie

I thought some people might enjoy this picture... and this wasn't even when my face was at its worst. No worries, I will be making a full recovery!

It’s a little overwhelming to try and put the experiences of the past month or so into a blog. I settled into my village and was able to meet some great people and find work to do. I continued to work at the dispensary, helping with their maternal and child health programs. I met with several community groups, the most promising one being a group of Mamas who cares for People Living With HIV/AIDS (PLWHA). They decided that they wanted me to teach them more about HIV and they would, in turn, teach their neighbors, friends, and those who they cared for. I began to work more closely with a Traditional Birth Attendant (TBA) and had plans to shadow her to observe the women in my village give birth in their homes. I made great friends with an older Tanzanian woman who introduced me to lots of other friends in the village and would always bring me fruit and nuts to eat. There have also been lots of challenges, especially learning to work within the Tanzanian system. One week I had scheduled 5 different meetings with various people and groups and only one of them actually happened. I got really excited when some Secondary school students approached me about starting a peer educator group. We had a great first meeting planning a syllabus but they didn’t show up to the next meeting and I learned later that they no longer wanted to participate because they weren’t going to be paid. There was also lots of petty village gossip and misunderstandings about why I was in the village that was difficult to deal with. Everything in perspective, these past two months have been incredibly challenging but I have been able to learn and grow in ways that are necessary to be happy and successful living in a Tanzanian village.

I learned this past week that Peace Corps has decided to put me in a different village, mostly due to the fact that I was having such a severe allergic reaction to the burning of cashews. It has been difficult because this entire situation is completely out of my control but I take comfort in knowing that everything happens for a reason. I am incredibly sad to leave behind my village, my villagers, my fellow Peace Corps friends in the “dirty South,” and all the plans I had made for the next two years living in that area. In ten days I will be moving to the Iringa region to start over again in a new village. I’m trying to focus on the opportunities before me which include working in the region of Tanzania with the highest prevalence of HIV, living in a more developed area where it may be easier to relate to villagers, living close to other Peace Corps volunteers, being less isolated by living near a good road in a more central area of Tanzania, continuing the work of 3 other Peace Corps Volunteers who have worked in this village before me, and being able to start over again having learned from mistakes I made in my first village. It’s all part of the adventure and I look forward to this fresh start. I hope everyone is doing well... I will have more access to internet and cell phone reception in the next week as I wait to move so please be in touch and let me know how you're doing!

LOVE,

Katie

Hi Everyone!

I’m sorry that this has to be my first blog update in so long but I know that many of you have heard that I’ve been sick so I wanted to write a quick update and let you all know I’m doing much better. Last Tuesday I woke up with a strange rash and my left eye was swollen. I honestly didn’t think to much of it because the rash resembled heat rash and my eye was normal by lunchtime. When I woke up the next day the rash had spread and was extremely itchy and the entire left side of my face was swollen and did not respond to benedryl. I called the medical office at Peace Corps and they referred me to a regional hospital. The hospital was a nightmare to navigate and they were convinced my problem was an eye problem since a swollen eye was the most visible symptom. I’m not sure they had any idea what to do with this crying, rash-y white girl wandering around speaking kindergarten Kiswahili. They gave me a malaria smear (non-reactive), stool sample (I’m good to go), and a vision test (my vision was not impaired). I’m not sure I ever got to see an actual doctor but I was prescribed an anti-histamine, an anti-biotic, and an anti-fungal. The diagnosis on my chart read, "Dermatitis." The Peace Corps doctor, based in Dar Es Salaam, was just as frustrated so she had me stay with a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives next to the hospital for 2 days just in case the reaction got worse. I was well taken care of with delicious food, homemade hibiscus wine, and lots of bananagrams! Soon my eye just looked like someone had punched me (as opposed to the entire left side of my face looking like it had been run over by a pikipiki) and my rash was fading so I returned to my village Saturday afternoon. Since we still hadn’t pinpointed the allergen, I greeted my neighbors and went straight to my house. Unfortunately within 2 hours my rash was red and itchy and the tear ducts in both my eyes started to swell. I took my meds, washed all my clothes and sheets in medicated soap and aired out my mattress. Despite a double dose of benedryl, I didn’t sleep that night because my body was so itchy and sure enough my eyes were swollen shut and my rash had spread over my entire body by the morning. I called medical again and they asked me to come to Dar for a check-up. I left early Monday morning but my bus broke down right outside the town of Lindi and by the time they got it working again, I would have been arriving in Dar at 3 am, which would not be safe. I was extremely fortunate and figured out that we broke down near a PCV’s site so I was able to call her and stay with her for the night. I got back on a bus Tuesday morning and arrived safely last night in Dar. My rash has already faded, although it still itches and is slowly driving me insane, and my eyes are almost back to normal. They aren’t able to do any allergy testing in any of Tanzania but we are pretty sure at this point that I’m allergic to a phenolic resin called anacardic acid that is found in the shells of cashews. It’s chemically related to the toxin in poison ivy, which I am for sure allergic to. Cashews are a huge cash crop for my village and 3 weeks ago the harvest started. To harvest the nut, the pods are placed over a fire on a metal tin. The oil in the pods immediately catches on fire and the tin burns with flames up to 4 feet tall (it’s a pretty spectacular site to watch these Mamas throwing flaming tins around outside their homes). They dump the pods on the ground and bury them in dirt to put out the flames. Once they cool a little, they hammer the shells to get out the nut. Usually my involvement in this process is sitting under the shade of a tree, talking to the Mamas while they feed me a now seemingly endless supply of cashews. Unfortunately, they think that this toxin is released into the air from the smoke of the roasting and that is what has caused this rash. Over the next few days I’ll be discussing with the Medical Office and Peace Corps Staff about what to do and I will certainly keep everyone updated. For now, rest assured that I’m feeling fine and I’m in good hands. Thank you so much for all of your thoughts and prayers!!

LOVE,

Katie

This was back in July-- Me and my homestay family!

So it seems like every week there’s a particular challenge that I face when going about my day-to-day business. The first week it was learning how to use my choo (pit latrine) that was clearly designed by a man, for a man. The next week it was learning how to cook one serving of one meal for one person due to the fact that anything that sits out for more than 8 hours is covered in mold. This past week the challenge has been learning how to bicycle (on a broken bike) wearing a skirt. Quite the challenge! And today when I decided to brave the 2 hour bike ride to town, I cheated and wore pants with a cloth wrapped around my waste which was much less frustrating attire than my usual long flowing skirt.

I’m slowly making the adjustment to village life, which has an entirely different pace than what I’m accustomed to. For the most part, time here passes slowly—people work a few hours in their farms and spend the afternoons greeting each other and drinking pombe (local alcoholic brew) under mango trees. Perhaps the most exciting day I’ve witnessed in my village was when the Standard 7s (the equivalent of 7th or 8th grade in the States) completed their exams last week, thus ‘graduating’ Primary school. They ran from the school building through the entire village beating drums and chanting songs. I walked to the Secondary school that day at 2 pm and already the celebrations were well under way with entire families drinking copious amounts of pombe, singing and dancing. For most students in my area, finishing Primary school is a huge achievement and they are now free from the 'cage' of education. Some will return to the farms with their parents, never touching a book again. Some will pass their exams and wish to continue to Secondary school but will not be able due to their families unwillingness or inability to pay school fees. Some will move to a nearby town and try to find a job as a house-girl or motorcycle driver. A small few will continue their education to Secondary school, which will provide them a better chance of breaking into the job market, provided they are able to graduate without becoming pregnant or having their parents pull them out because they are needed at home to work the farms. While Tanzania is praised for their Education reform that has made Primary school compulsory and more affordable, the education system is in shambles due to lack of qualified teachers, poor curriculum, and a culture that puts much more value on making money on the farm. Last week a Standard 1 (more or less a Freshman in high school) came by my house and told me that he wanted to learn English. I was excited for a new friend so I tested him with simple English greetings and he stared at me blankly. I returned to Kiswahili and asked him what he wanted to learn and he pulls out his chemistry notes which contained, in perfect penmanship, Laboratory Protocols, Oxidation Reactions, The process of refining oil, etc. all in English. In high school all national exams are given in English so students are expected to learn the material in English. The teachers themselves don’t even know English so education becomes rote memorization of definitions and processes written in a foreign language on a chalkboard. I asked him to read his notes out loud for me and he was unable to do that. The only thing I could do was sit with him and my English-Swahili dictionary and look up some of the terminology. Although there is tremendous opportunity to help, it made me glad that I am not an Education volunteer trying to work within the Tanzanian system!

One of the most frustrating things by far has been trying to learn the local dialect of Kiswahili without any formal instruction. Because of this language barrier, finding good contacts in my village has been a struggle as well as identifying the areas where I could make an impact. There are certainly obvious areas that need improvement, for example at the Secondary School I’ve only met one teacher for over 250 students and while working at the clinic last week three sixteen-year-old girls came in with surprise pregnancies in one morning. But for the most part, the village runs smoothly and the small health clinic is able to provide for the basic health needs of the population. Without much language or village exposure, I’m sure I’m only seeing the surface of things. Currently I’m writing the house-to-house survey that I’m going to start conducting next week to learn about the resources in my village and areas that villagers identify as problems. I’m excited to begin the survey since I feel like it will be a good way to get out in my new community, meet people, practice my Kiswahili, and learn about the opportunities for work here. Bring on next week’s challenge!

I hope all is well, where ever you may be—You are certainly being missed here!

Love,

Katie

Also, my new best friend and (sort-of) neighbor Cameron keeps a great blog:

cameron-in-tanzania.blogspot.com

She seems to be better about posting than I am...

I feel a little silly writing a blog about the new life I live after only one week but here it goes. Peace Corps placed me in a village outside of Masasi town in the southernmost region of Tanzania, called Mtwara (near the border with Mozambique). I’m not going to post the name of my village for confidentiality reasons but if you want to google map it, send me an email. Even after 9 weeks of training, I don’t think there’s any way that Peace Corps can prepare us for living alone in a rural Tanzanian village. I was really anxious about moving out on my own, for the first time in any context, but I survived the first week, which I count as a tremendous accomplishment. And although I’d give about anything to be sharing a room with my sister or fighting with my college roommates over dishes again, I have a sense of peace that this is where I’m supposed to be.

My house:

I live in a duplex on the health clinic compound. I have 4 rooms and right now it slightly resembles a prison with crumbling cement stucco-ed walls (I plan to buy lots of wall tapestries and put as much color around as possible to make it more like a home). The only furniture I have right now is a bed and with my current budget it may be all that I can afford for the time being (eating on the floor is the traditional way to dine in TZ anyways). I’ve made one room my kitchen, one my bedroom, one a store room, and I have a large living room with great lighting where I entertain the 15 people who stop by house everyday just to greet me. I have a big thatch courtyard that will be perfect for my new puppy (when I find one) and a pit latrine. Living at the health clinic has its ups and downs. The health clinic has solar power (the only place in my village with any kind of electricity) and they were generous enough to wire a light bulb in my house so I’m no longer 100% dependent on my headlamp. There’s no doctor but the clinic-staff are great neighbors to have. Unfortunately, I wake up around 6:30 every morning to the sound of 100 sick women and their children waiting outside my window to be seen at the health clinic. Sleeping alone at night has been a big adjustment but it helps that I can hear my neighbor in the other side of the duplex snoring.

My Village:

My village has about 7,000 people living in the main village plus 8 other sub-villages. It's flat with lots of cashew and mango trees. The soil is pretty sandy so nothing seems to grow other than these trees, some beans, and cassava. That has proved to be a problem because I'm not able to buy food in my village other than cassava! Cooking takes forever anyways so I've been eating spoonfuls of peanut butter for at least one meal a day. I'm not far distance wise from the town of Masasi where I'll be able to re-stock on most things but the only way for me to get to town is getting a lift on a lorry. The lorry that comes to my area is one size larger than a pick-up truck and i counted this morning: we had 42 people and 5 chickens people crammed together standing in the back for a bumpy hour long ride into town. I felt like I was trying to hop a border with a group of refugee! So funny story about the chickens, this guy hops on holding 5 chickens by their feet. After a couple minutes one wrangled loose and flew away. The lorry actually stopped and let this guy go chase down his chicken. He got back in and 3 minutes later another flew away. This time people got mad so we just drove off leaving him behind. Ok, back to village life: The Kiswahili in this area is a different dialect and they speak it so fast so understanding people has been my primary struggle. For that reason, I don't actually know much about my village yet. There's one secondary school with 3 teachers for 300 students. There are 2 primary schools. People seem to spend most of their time farming. Unfortunately I've already noticed that alcohol abuse is rampant in my village. The older people will be drunk by noon every day! They drink this cashew-apple pombe stuff that looks like oatmeal. They sell it out of buckets on the side of the road. Sketch! There also seems to be a huge need for family planning and reproductive health education so I'm excited about that opportunity! First up though, I need to learn more Kiswahili and start integrating into my community so that I know what its actual needs are and how they might best be addressed.

Communication:

Unfortunately my internet situation has not improved at all with this move. I will try my best to update my blog and read emails every few weeks so please continue to send me updates on your lives and be patient with response time. My cell phone number is still the same, however reception in my village is horrible. If you would like to call me (please do!) it may be best to text me before with a time (or just say I'm going to call you in 2 minutes) and I’ll be waiting for you under the one mango tree with 2 bars of reception! My new mailing address is:

Katie Morris, PCV

PO Box 218

MASASI TOWN

Mtwara Region, Tanzania

EAST AFRICA

**AIRMAIL

Ok, I could spend all day updating this blog (I'm going to try to post pictures soon) but my mission for the day is to buy some food! Thank you all for the emails and I'll be in touch soon!

LOVE,

Katie

Ok in this case the chicken definitely came first. One of my biggest frustrations of homestay was the state of cleanliness (or absolute lack thereof) of my living conditions. I learned to eat 3-day-old chicken (there are no refrigerators here) and scoop from a sugar bowl with more ants than sugar (gotta get that protein somehow) but I could never get over how my filthy my room was every morning despite my best efforts to clean. I like to refer to my mosquito net more as a ‘critter net’ because at night it protected me from the giant spiders, bats, rats, and other creepy crawly critters one would only find in a mud house in Africa. My net was treated with some strong chemical and it’d bring me satisfaction in the morning to look at the floor and see all the dead cockroaches and spiders that met their fate trying to crawl in bed with me the night before. Or to sweep all the rat/bat/mystery animal poop off the top of my net that would have otherwise been on my face. On top of this, my mud/cement stucco-ed walls would just crumble every time wind blew red dirt through my windows. Seriously, I went to Njombe (Southern Highlands) for a week to shadow another Peace Corps Volunteer as part of training, and when I returned it looked like WWIII had happened in my locked room while I was away with the amount of cement blocks, dead insects, dust, and feces that piled my floor.

Anyways, this post is not intended for you to feel sorry for me because yes, I signed up for this fully knowing what I was getting into but I wanted to share with you my breaking point with this mess. So one day I came home from school and noticed my room was in a particularly disastrous state. I looked closer and noticed that my sleeping bag, which is usually folded at the end of my bed, was twisted in a spiral. I went closer and noticed red chicken footprints all over my sheets. Sure enough, a chicken had flown over my walls (there was no ceiling) into my room and proceeded to lay 2 eggs in my sleeping bag!! Yeah, I was sleeping in the Muslim equivalent of a pigsty! The worst part was that when I showed my family, they got excited and thought it was the best thing ever. Every afternoon that week I’d come home to a nest of blankets and more eggs. Rock Bottom. Well that Sunday, my uncle came into town from Tanga (the ‘big city’). We were all sitting around at home that day and he watched the chicken try to fly up into my room. He quickly stood on a bucket, grabbed the chicken mid-act and immediately snapped its neck. We ate it for dinner that night and it tasted like sweet victory!

I have lots of stories from homestay to post but here are a couple for the moment...

One thing I really enjoy about Tanzanian culture is the degree to which generations interact. Here it is completely normal to see teenage boys hanging out on a regular basis with their 60 year old grandparents and since there are no rooms to hide out in, children spend time with their parents a whole lot more than in the States. During homestay, I developed a great relationship with my Bibi (grandmother) who was crazy in all the best ways. She liked to make inappropriate comments at awkward times, she laughed louder than the roosters crowed, and she was obsessed with my love life. Every day when I returned from school and she returned from the farm (usually barefoot and carrying entire trees for firewood on her head), we would sit together cooking in the backyard. Every single afternoon we would have the same conversation (translated from Kiswahili):

Bibi Chow: Keti!! I really think you should consider marrying Babu Bakari (her husband and my 70 year old grandfather who’s maybe 5’3)

Katie: No way Bibi! Babu is your husband!

Bibi Chow: But Keti! You’d be his 2nd wife! I’d do all the cooking, cleaning, housework, and farming, you just need to relax

Katie: Oh Bibi, sorry I don’t want to be the 2nd wife. I’m the kind of girl who needs 2 husbands

Bibi Chow: Ahhh Keti!! Can you have 2 husbands in America???

Katie: No but you also can’t have 2 wives… doesn’t that seem fair? Besides, Babu Bakari is too old and too short for me.

Bibi Chow: Hmmm [giggle] well I’ll find you a Tanzanian man as tall as that tree [points to a 50’ tall tree in our backyard]

Katie: Ok Bibi, if you find me a man that tall, and who knows how to cook and clean for himself, I will marry him.

Bibi Chow: Ohhhhh Keti…

No joke, we would have this conversation line for line every afternoon. She would then repeat it to anyone who would listen and she’d laugh and laugh. She would sit any male visitor down and in front of him, ask me if he was too old, too short, and if I wanted him to be my mchumba (fiancé). It was mortifying for the visitor and me, but highly entertaining for everyone else.

It is true that polygamy is widely practiced in Tanzania. I often wonder how there are so many women for these men to take as wives. It has definitely been a difficult cultural practice for me to wrap my head around but by judging, I only isolate myself. And at the end of the day, from a survival point of view, a rural Tanzanian woman is better off with the protection of a male with other wives than on her own. As a health educator, it’s a goal of mine not only to educate women on how to protect themselves with birth control and condoms but also to empower women to choose to be with men who share similar family values and goals in life.

This is a blog entry I wrote almost 2 months ago back when I thought time for internet was easier to come by… still thought I’d post it July 2, 2010 Hamjambo Rafiki Zangu! So it turns out that I’m living in the ‘sticks’ of Tanzania for the next two months so it is actually going to be faster for you to communicate with me by the good ol’ postal service than through the internet. Strange reality. Today we have come to Tanga aka “the land of plenty” to stock up on the essentials such as toilet paper, phone vouchers, and peanut butter so I’ll take this opportunity to update you a little on my new life: My village is gorgeous. Red dirt, green trees, mud houses, visible mountains, and humbling stars. We, Peace Corps TZ Trainees (PCTs), are here to learn Kiswahili and how to survive in a rural Tanzanian village. I live with a family of approximately 9 none of whom speak a word of English. That has been the biggest challenge so far but the loneliness and awkwardness are good motivators for me to learn Kiswahili. My Bibi (grandmother) and I have developed a great game of charades that allows me to communicate basic necessities. I eat a lot of oranges (I’ve been averaging 5 a day—I’m hoping the Vitamin C intake will counterbalance the insane number of germs and bugs I ingest everyday), corn, and rice. I’ve been craving some protein, cheese, chocolate, and anything not cooked in a bucket of oil (literally my family buys their oil by the 20 L bucket). I live in a mud-brick-cement mix house with a tin roof. There are four rooms, I have one all to myself. The bathroom is a thatch enclosure in our backyard with bug-infested pit latrine and no toilet paper or water (again, germs germs germs). I have lots of chickens but the roosters must be doing their jobs because I have yet to see any eggs (I would kill for a cheese omelet right now), some cows, goats, cats (who are also doing their job—I have yet to see a rat!), and ducks. My favorite is a baby calf that thinks he’s a dog and likes to curl up next to us on the ground. The people in the village are extremely friendly and I feel safer here than I do in the States. We have a month of intensive language training and the second month is filled with mostly technical training. We’re split up into groups of five right now but we all come together once a week for some kind of technical training. Yesterday we learned to ‘permagarden’, which was actually really fun! The first week of village life was really rough but I’m beginning to figure out how to be happy here. I love living in such a beautiful area and I like my family a lot!! Living in such a different environment definitely intensifies emotions and there are mornings when I’m ready to hop a plane back to America and afternoons where I can’t get over the fact that I live in such a gorgeous area with such warm people. Love to all back home! Katie

So internet has been hard to come-by during training but I do have lots to update on! I'm at an internet cafe right now without my journal or computer but I will post some stories of the past two months soon.

Quick update: I've spent the past 2 months living in a mud house in a traditional Tanzanian village in Tanga region with a wonderful family. In addition to going without internet, I've sparingly lived off of 2 rolls of TP, taken a total of 2 showers (don't worry mom, I bucket bathe every night under a dome of equatorial stars... quite romantic other than my shower space is where the rest of the family relieves their bladders), seen two dead snakes (GIANT pythons), eaten beans and rice every day (twice if I'm lucky), hiked with my baby brother on my back, carried a 15 L bucket of water on my head, made a permagarden (chickens have devoured all but the beans), danced at a wedding, attended a traditional healing session, relaxed at a gorgeous beach on the Indian Ocean (www.mkomabay.com COME VIST ME), and learned enough Kiswahili to survive.

I'm moving to Mtwara district to a village close to the Mozambique border in 2 weeks. I'm excited but terrified to actually live on my own. My internet time is up but please get in touch! I'll post stories and pictures soon!

Love Katie

Hey Everyone,

I apologize I don't have more time to update you on everything that I've been doing/seeing/learning but I wanted to let you all know that I made it safely and I'm having a great time. On Wednesday I'm moving to Muheza (in the Tanga district) where I'll live in a rural village (Kibaoni) with a family who only speaks Kiswahili for 2 months. We'll meet as a group once a week to have technical skills training (first up: gardening). During this time I will have limited internet time (hopefully once a week) so the best way to communicate with me will be by phone. My number is +255 688324660 . You can text me from Skype for really cheap and I'd love to hear from you!

I will update you with funny travel stories and initial impressions sometime soon. For the meantime, let me know what I'm missing back in the USA!

Love,

Katie

I am packed. Am I ready? That I don't know about. But I know I will be come 5:45 am tomorrow morning. When thoughts and emotions are overwhelming, lists are always helpful, so:

Things I'm Excited About:- Watching the World Cup in Africa- Equatorial Stars- Chapati (A mix between a tortilla and a crepe?? delicious!)- Becoming proficient in Kiswahili- The Indian Ocean and its beaches- Being outside at least 12 hours a day, every day- For monkeys to replace squirrels - Seeing first hand or actually doing a lot of things that I've studied in school like conducting a health needs assessment, training HIV/AIDS peer educators, being a part of African politics...- New friends! (Both Tanzanian and my fellow Peace Corps volunteers)- Baby goats!- Observing the strength of African women- Walking/Biking to work every day- Journaling- Warm weather year-round- Learning how to cook everything from scratch, and getting really creative with ingredients- Communicating by old- fashioned mail

Things I'll Miss:- YOU! (awwwwww, but for real!)- Feeling clean- Cheese, Ice cream, Chic fil A, Chocolate Cheesecake- Driving- Seaside- Nellie and Chloe- Facebook- Long phone conversations- Davidson- K-pub- My roommates- Rock music- Hot showers- Using sarcasm- Wearing pants- Smooth, shaven legs (ohh yeah boys!)- The Blue Ridge Mountains- Lazy Fridays

My family celebrated Father's Day today and as I was thinking of how influential my father and entire family have been in my life, I was reminded of a quote that a close family friend said over dinner recently, "A parent's job is to give their children roots and wings." Thank you all for the incredibly strong foundation of love and support you have provided me as friends and family! Without that I know I wouldn't be able to 'fly' so far. This is an incredible opportunity for me and I am excited to learn, serve and love in Tanzania.

Please be in touch!Love,Katie

GO USA!!!

Now that the final (hopefully!) Wal-Mart run is out of the way (yes, there have been 4 in the past 4 days), I figure it's time to update.

So I thought I'd re-cap 95% of my conversations over the past month:

Congrats on graduating! What's next?

I joined the Peace Corps!

Wow, where are you going to be?

In Tanzania, a country half way down the East coast of Africa. It's known for Mount Kilimanjaro (highest point in Africa), the idyllic 'palm-fringed beaches' of Zanzibar (an island off the coast in the Indian Ocean), national parks that cover 1/3 of the country (full of lions and tigers and bears, oh my! well, actually just lions, elephants, leopards, and cheetahs among other big game animals), and a very welcoming population (including the Maasai tribe that's known for drinking blood, giant earrings, and red-checkered loin cloths). Have I sold you yet??? COME VISIT ME! (ps The pictures above and below were taken in Tanzania)**I won't know specifically where in Tanzania I'll be posted until August but my fingers are crossed for Zanzibar (hahaha)

What are you going to be doing?

My official title is "Health Education Extension Worker." I'll be working primarily with HIV/AIDS programs in a rural village somewhere in Tanzania. Basically a glorified sex-ed teacher who is expected to teach sexual education to a foreign population of all ages in a brand new language (Swahili) to a culture that regards sex as quite a taboo topic. Whoo awkwardness! Side projects could include programs on maternal health, nutrition, and water sanitation.

For how long?

I will be in Tanzania for 27 months (I'll return August of 2012... bring on the culture shock!). I hope to come home for a brief visit at least once although that date is yet to be determined.

When do you leave?

I'm leaving for King of Prussia, Pennsylvania early Monday morning. We have informational meetings all day. On Tuesday I'll be watching my fellow PCTs get shots (thank you SIT Kenya-- I've got all mine!), and taking the bus to JFK in NYC. My flight to TZ leaves at 6 pm with a brief stop in Zurich and Nairobi. 33 hours later I will arrive in Dar es Salaam and then the real fun begins!

We'll spend 10 days in Dar getting accustomed to Tanzania and stocking up on any essentials. Then we'll be split up into small groups of 4 or 5 and taken to rural villages where we will live with homestay families, have 10 hours of Swahili instruction 6 days a week, and on the 7th day we learn how to farm, cook, make wine, etc. to prepare us for when we live alone.

On August 18th I'll (hopefully) be sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) and given my placement in some rural village somewhere in Tanzania. Most likely I will be living by myself but hopefully there will be other PCVs within short traveling distance.

Are you excited/nervous/scared?

I am excited! I am nervous! I am terrified! but I suppose the more pressing matter is that I AM NOT PACKED!

What's the best way to reach you?

Well, excluding the much preferred personal visits, the best way to reach me will probably be by cell phone. Calling cards can be purchased online for cheap (www.callingcardplus.com) and I will have a cell phone with me at all times (email me for the number, there is an 8 hour time difference). Next, I should have access to email at least a couple times a month so don't let me be disappointed when I finally make it to an internet cafe (katiemorris828@gmail.com)!! Finally, for the romantic in all of us, letters can be sent by AirMail to the address posted on the left of this blog. If you would like to send a package (i will be FOREVER grateful!), I have heard that to give it the best chance to get to me unopened, you should use a padded envelope instead of a box, make sure you don't declare anything important or over $10 value on the customs slip, and cover the outside in religious symbols or Bible verses... if all goes well it should reach me in less than a month!

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers! This is certainly an exciting step in my life and I could not have done it without your support!

Now on to actually packing my bags...Love,Katie

Ray C -- "Songea Songea"

Juma Nature -- "Mugambo"

Chameleone and Professor Jay -- "Sivyo Ndivyo"(** Chameleone is Ugandan)

DJ Eliscorps -- Bongo Flava Mix

http://www.eastafricantube.com/media/22821/Bongo_Flava_Mix_-_DJ_Eliscorps/

About Bongo Flavahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bongo_Flava

Thanks everyone for the birthday wishes!!

AND CONGRATULATIONS TO THE MOST STUDLY GRADUATE OF VCA: JOHN JOSEPH MORRIS -- LOVE YOU BRO!

... T-minus 13 days until departure, starting to get really nervous! How exactly does one pack for two years?? 22 is going to be a great year!

Happy Memorial Day!Katie

Hiiii Everyone!

As I'm beginning to prepare to leave for Tanzania with the Peace Corps, I've decided to start the inevitable: a blog. As of now I have no real plans for this special corner of the world wide web but hopefully over the next two years it will provide a delightfully captivating first-hand account of life for a mzungu (foreigner, white person) teaching some Tanzanians how to use condoms and learning a whole lot about the African way of living in the meantime.

I know that when I am in Africa I live for any form of communication from back home (as well as the number of stars in the African sky, smiling round bellied black babies, and being greeted with "Madame! You've grown so fat!") so pllllllease friends: KEEP IN TOUCH! I will be sure and do the same.

Stay tuned!Kwaheri kwa sasa,Katie

"It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do

I bless the rains down in Africa

Gonna take some time to do the things we never have" --Toto, Africa