Almost Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love to everyone.

Kate