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Epilouge…….Well, I am home again. The dust of the village roads has washed out of my clothes and my sunburn has begun to fade. I wanted to leave you with a few final thoughts, though.

If the urge to volunteer in a third world country hits you, do not hesitate for a single second. It is scary and uncomfortable at times, but overwhelmingly fun, powerful and rewarding. All it takes is a credit card, passport, and a willingness to step into another world. I promise you will not be sorry that you did!

I could never have done this without the experience of my season on the Appalachian Trail. Every lesson I learned there, from conserving water to being open to the kindness of strangers served me on this trip. And I carried all of my fellow hikers with me here in Africa.

When you think that something is used up, be it a piece of clothing or a plastic bowl, give it one more hard look. I bet there are many years of use left in it. Seeing others treasure the most simple of things taught me to treasure them in return.

If a person from Africa walks up to you and asks if she/he can spend the night at your house, consider saying yes! This might seem strange to us, but it is the African way and this very thing happened to me at the Atlanta airport. I walked up to mom and dad and said, “This is Yop, she is from Nigeria and I am taking her home for the night”. Of course, being the parents that they are, they just shrugged and said “Of course!”.

Most importantly……I have said it before, but it bears repeating. When you see the pictures of Africa and starving children, all you can see is the need. The pictures seem to be completely about poverty. But make no mistake, even in the poorest village, there is a rich community here, built on family and values. Neighbors share what they have with each other, and in the midst of what we consider great need, find a way to lead very happy, productive lives. Do not let that deter you from giving, because the need is certainly there, but do not let that need lead you to believe that that is all there is to see. I learned a great deal about friendship and happiness from these people.

Thank you for following my journey. Your support has meant more than you know!
If you are interested in donating to Upendo Childrens Home, Kilamahewa School, or the Honey Badger Cultural Arts Center, do not hesitate to send me an email. Until our next adventure………
Asante sana na Karibu,
Anna
“When all is said and done here at the ending of the day, I look out on this world and it still takes my breath away…”
“Robin’s Song” Small Potatoes

Anna aka Mud Butt

FridayI woke up early and jumped out of bed. This was my last day at Kilamahewa and I couldn’t wait to get there! I had bags of candy to give all of the students and a fresh role of film in my camera. We were going to go out with a bang!
When I reached the school I asked Mr. Masawe to end class ten minutes early so that I could speak to the kids, give them candy and lead them in one more rendition of the Hokey-Pokey. The morning sped by and when it came time for recess, instead of the children all running out to play, many of them crowded around me for one last game of ‘tickle’. It is a simple game, really. I tickle each child until they laugh, taking turns with all of the kids in the middle of the tight circle that they form around me. Sooner or later, someone figures out that turn about is fair play and before I know it, twenty little hands are tickling me mercilessly! As I shriek with laughter, I have to end the game until I calm down a little bit. Then it starts all over again.
I was in the middle of counting to twenty in Swahili, (kumi na moja…..kumi na mbili…) when Mr. Masawe leaned out of the door to his home and motioned to me that it was time. As I stood in front of the children, Mr. Masawe came with all of his students to translate for me. “Tomorrow, I am going back to America…..”, I began, before bursting into tears. Seventy little confused faces looked up at me as I tried to pull myself together. I explained to them that I thought they were very, very smart and very, very special and that I loved them all very much. I told them that I would tell all of my friends in America about them and that I would never forget them. Realizing that this good-bye was more for me than them, I cut it short by bringing out the candy. They are squealed and jumped up and down as I handed it out. Mr. Masawe had them all stand up and led them in a chorus of ‘good-bye teacher’s and ‘we love you’s. It was more than I could stand.
With tears streaming down my face, I yelled, ‘Let’s Hokey-Pokey!!!!” and we all ran out into the yard and got into a big circle. I yelled out each line and Mr. Masawe translated it as we ‘shook it all about’. When we got to ‘put your whole body in’, the children ran into the middle of the circle and shook themselves with wild abandon, laughing like crazy. Then with one final good-bye, they scattered over the fields towards home. As I looked out at those small figures in blue uniforms I waved until my arm grew numb. When I could no longer see them in the distance, I sat down wearily on the bench. My time at Kilamahewa was over.
I felt wrung out and all I wanted to do was go collapse on my bunk, but there was still a full day ahead, so after a quick lunch with a few of the other volunteers, Christie, Sarah and I headed to Jesca’s house for the rest of the day. We did not know what was in store, but Mamma Digna and Jesca had been asking us to come over all week long, and knowing that I wouldn’t be seeing them again before I left, I was anxious to go.
We walked to Jescas house and upon arriving, found that all of the living room furniture had been moved out into a brick building that was to be their home in the future. They had begun building it some time ago and had run short on funds, so for the time being, it it four walls and a roof. It made the perfect place for a party!
In true Tanzania form, nothing went as planned, and what was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon at Jescas turned into a comedy of errors. Rumor reached the house that one of the Arusha volunteers was in the hospital so we all jumped in a taxi to go see if we could help. We thought it might be one of our friends from the waterfall hike so we hightailed it to the hospital. To make a long story short, it wasn’t one of our friends, but it was a very nice young woman from the Arusha program. She was doing all right and was glad to have the visitors. After a trip to our home base to get her some supplies and a trip back to the hospital to deliver them, we headed to Jesca’s once more.
When we arrived, we were surprised to see that a party had materialized! Approximately thirty of Jesca’s friends and families had come to say welcome to Christie, thank you to Sarah, and good-bye to me! A neighbor wandered around with a camera taking photos and Andrew, our cab driver, settled himself onto the couch to enjoy the festivities. Platters of food were bought out and we all set to a feast that included chicken, rice, plantains, fresh vegetables and fruit. To say that we were touched would be the greatest understatement in the world! We all ate and ate, and as we finished, a wooden box of bottles of soda were brought out. Warm Pepsi has never tasted so good. Knowing what a luxury it was and seeing the joy it brought to these people to share it with us really drove home all the lessons that I had learned about Tanzanian kindness, compassion and generosity.
As we sat and sipped our drinks, Jesca stood up and announced that they had a special surprise for us. She bought out a small round plate with a brown disc on it. Mamma Digna had baked a cake!!!! I know that it might not seem like much to us here in America, but here in Rau, this was huge! Tanzanians do not do desert. No cakes, pies, etc. I cannot imagine for the life of me how Mamma Digna even knew how to bake one! For these people, however, a cake was so symbolic of Americans, and it was something special that they wanted to do for us. Jescas cousin and I held the knife together and cut the cake amidst flash bulbs going off. She then took turns cutting bites and feeding them to each of us with pictures being taken of each one of us and our bite of cake. It was wonderful!
After the cake, Jesca stood up and gave a speech welcoming us all and thanking us. When she began to talk about me and how I was leaving, I just sat there and cried. She sang a good-bye song to me in Swahili and explained that it was about how much I had touched everyone’s life and how much they all loved me. I just sat there and sobbed as I reached up and grasped the wild flower charm that my friend Nicole had sent with me to Africa. She had told me to go and spread the seeds of wild flowers, and sitting on that couch in the middle of an African village, the moon rising up through the open walls, surrounded by people laughing and singing, I decided that this must of been what she meant.
Tears soon gave way to merriment as they turned up the music and we all started to dance. The mzungu tried to imitate the effortless hip swivels that Tanzanians seem to be born with and we all laughed ourselves hoarse. It was ten o’clock when Andrew gave us the high sign. It was time to go. As we all made our way around the room hugging and thanking everyone, I found myself crying again. Last but not least, Jesca and I stood by the taxi embracing. Who would have believed that this quiet young woman would have ended up touching my life so much? As I told her that I believed in her and that I wanted her to see all of her dreams come to fruition, we sobbed and sobbed. Christie, Sarah and I finally climbed into the taxi and headed slowly through the village one final time.
I climbed into my bunk feeling, at the same time, both a sense of heart break and completion. Heart break because I couldn’t bear the thought that all of these people that I have come to treasure might go on to lead lives that I am not a part of, and completion because I know that it is time to go home. The goals that I set for this trip are posted on the wall of the house, and are as follows:
1. To crack my world wide open
2. To make as many children as possible feel valued and loved
3. To help children understand how unique and special they are
4. To be an ambassador for the U.S. and C.C.S
5. To connect with people regardless of language or cultural barriers

Mission accomplished.

But as much as I wanted to touch the people that I met here, it was a small, small thing compared to what they have given me. Families took me into their homes, children hugged me with all of the love that they had to give, and a community made me one of their own. Africa has left my life richer than I ever imagined it could be, and that is what I plan on taking home with me.

“When all is said and done here at the ending of the day, I look out on this world and it still takes my breath away…”
“Robin’s Song” Small Potatoes

Anna aka Mud Butt

ThursdayThe week is speeding by faster than I ever imagined that it could and as I went to school today, I reminded myself over and over to make each moment count. I have come to love these children so much and the thought that I am only a couple of days away from leaving them is more than I want to think about right now.
Today, I bought in a book that my friend Nicole sent with me to read to the kids. It is a book on taking a bath and it has elephants and other animals taking baths as well so I think it might be interesting to them. The story time is as follows……

Me: Bath time is fun! My little sister takes a bath!
…..long silence as I show the picture to all of the children……
….even longer silence as Jesca tries to figure out how in the hell to translate this….

Jesca: $@#!% ^@%^$°⁄fl·‹ Y&*@#&›·‹ &Z@*$&#@)$* Z&*97 %#$^!% &^@#&$(…..&$*#$)…..
(Translation: The time for one to bathe oneself is a time that brings much happiness to the family and to ones self….the daughter of my mother which is smaller than I also takes the time to bathe oneself so as to bring about cleanliness….)

And then I read the next page………..I could go on but I bet you get the picture! I add to the fun by trying to make up the story when the one that is written obviously won’t do. For instance, the long section about the pet dog getting a bath and having his own shampoo? Not gonna happen!! And the section about rinsing off baby sister in the sink with the spray attachment……well these children have never seen a sink, much less a spray attachment!! Needless to say, there was much confusion on the children’s part and much laughter on mine, but I think in the end they all enjoyed the story! As for Jesca, well she just thinks that I have lost my mind!
The morning sped by and I had a moment of panic when I heard the van coming to pick me up. Only one day left with my babies. It makes my breath catch in my throat when I think about it so I decided to do what any self-respecting southern girl would do….think about it tomorrow! That Scarlet O’Hara had the right idea!
Instead of going back to the house, this was the day that I was going to speak to the girls at Mama Lucy’s school and I was really looking forward to it. Christie and Julie opted out and instead, my friend Sarah asked to come. Sarah is 24 going on 40 and is really an amazing person. She has been here a couple of months and her life long dream is to come back and work in the Peace Core. It didn’t surprise me at all that she would want to come talk to the students…..she is not one to let an opportunity like this pass her by! I think that is why she and I get along so well!! We took a taxi to the Arts Center and Mamma Lucy was waiting there to escort us to the school. The young girls from a few days ago were all there and the first thing they did was take turns standing up and introducing themselves. Almost to a girl, they were painfully shy. One young woman in particular seemed overwrought with the thought of speaking to us. I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. I asked Mamma Lucy to translate for me and I walked up to the young girl and asked her to stand up. I gently pulled her shoulders back and tilted her chin up. I told her that she was smart and beautiful and that no one in this world should make her look at the ground. I told her that she had strength that she was unaware of but that we could all see it and that she could claim her place in this world. A shy, wide smile took over her face and the other girls laughed with her. I think they all realized at that point that we didn’t bite!
When it was time for us to speak, I asked the girls what they thought of America and Americans. I asked if they all thought we were rich beyond belief, and that we were all famous. As I watched them nod, I was overcome with the futility of what I was trying to do. What was I trying to do? Was I trying to convince them that I wasn’t rich? Or famous? How do I tell a person that has no indoor plumbing, and that lives with twelve other people that I, who own a home and a car, is simply middle class? How do I explain that the luxuries that I seemingly have are very mundane in America? I just couldn’t do it. To even try seemed laughable. Instead, I talked to them about education. I talked to them about school being the key to all of their goals and how I had spent twenty years in school. As I explained to them that they are the future of this country, Mamma Lucy nodded her head in agreement. I have never felt the power of words so profoundly as I looked at that small group of girls listening intently.
After I was done, Sarah stood up and told them her story. Everything that she said, from having a father that thought she should get married rather than go to school, to working two jobs to put herself through university, was something that these girls could relate to. As she continued to talk about power and education and having the right to say ‘no’, all of the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I was standing at the rear of the classroom watching Sarah speak when I knew without a doubt that something powerful was happening. There were children gathered around the outside of the window to listen, several adults had joined us in the room, and the students in the classroom were engrossed in Sarah’s tale. And something was happening. I don’t know if I will ever know what went on in that room that day, but something moved, and someone was touched, and a difference was made in someone’s life. Someone’s in addition to my own.
Class wound up with us all taking pictures of each other and hugging. This is something that Tanzanians do not do often…..hug each other. I laughed and told them that we were going to show them what Mzungu did when they made a new friend. I enveloped each one of those young girls in a big hug, trying to commit their grins to memory. All of the forces that brought me to this country are coming to a head and I feel like I am being swept in a tide. All of those cliché statements about us all being small pieces of a grand puzzle are starting to make such sense and I can feel that I am almost done here.
Baba Charles drove us home slowly, swerving to avoid the bus-sized pot holes. Dust hung heavily in the air as the sun started to set., and everything seemed to be moving at a slower pace than normal. As I looked out on the people walking to their homes I realized that I couldn’t differentiate between the time I was an outsider here and the time that I found myself at home. Only one day left in Africa…..

“When all is said and done here at the ending of the day, I look out on this world and it still takes my breath away…”
“Robin’s Song” Small Potatoes

Anna aka Mud Butt