Tanzania: The Final Post...maybe.

I’ve put off writing this post for several reasons, mostly because there are so many stories left to tell…

There was the drama of primary v. secondary football matches—and why somebody thought it would be a good idea for me, the third grade soccer dropout, to serve as referee for these epic competitions, I will never know!  There was the success of hosting the school’s first ever Parents’ Day (Siku ya Wazazi), and the pride I felt as our students displayed their work…until the striptease.*  There was the crocodile hunt, the marriage proposal, and the one time I felt truly unsafe in my community.  (And it didn’t involve a crocodile.)  There was the Southern Baptist minister who fed me Famous Amos cookies during our seven hour layover in the smoldering humidity of the Dar es Salaam airport and the fascinating linguistic pluralism of Maria’s home.  There are recipes for pilau and matoke.

Needless to say, you should hunt me down so we can cover all this in person.

In many ways, I’ve been surprised by how little I feel changed.  I still enjoy the same things, and living in rural Tanzania didn’t change who I am.  And yet, it’s impossible to return exactly the same.

I now live with a deep sense of gratitude for clean, running water…and brand new Ziploc bags.  My threshold for stress has been completely altered.  Luxury is redefined, and I marvel at the unbelievable access we enjoy the West.

In my parents’ home, a framed picture of “my girls” in Tanzania sits among the family portraits.  Our family has expanded.

I live each day with an abiding awareness of a world full of loved ones across the globe. 

And so, I move forward to the next adventures that await me, while giving thanks for the many I’ve been so privileged to experience.

  

*This particular striptease involved a preschooler (who shall remain nameless), a difficult-to-tie wrap skirt, and a chorus of four-year-olds singing “Jesus Loves Me.”