No Use Crying Over Stolen Milk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love!