Welcome To My World

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On July 31, 2014

In Other

The salon was now a video store.

Darn it.  I guess a lot can change in a year.

But I still had two little girls next to me with very big hair that needed to be braided.  A woman took pity on me as I was searching for the salon-now-video-store and pointed us in the direction of another salon.

I tried to repeat her directions back to her, and finally she told me to just follow her.  We walked through the dust, past piles of blackened trash and bare concrete block structures, over rocks and around puddles, dodging small children who always stop to stare at the white woman and her two brown children.  Finally she deposited me in front of the other salon.

I poked my head in.  Naomba kusuka watoto wangu?  I asked.  Will you please braid my children’s hair?  

Yes.  They welcomed us in.

The small room had two plastic chairs, two salon hair dryers, two large mirrors, and a shelf filled with hair products.  That was it.  On the wall was a poster of a little Asian girl with some sort of inspirational saying on it.  We took our shoes off outside, and they plopped my girls down on the floor and started working on their hair.

A guy came in with his arms full of women’s clothes on hangers.  Selling them.  He showed off each piece for the women to admire.  One woman took a bright fuchsia dress and tried it on on top of her clothes, prancing around for the others to see.  They haggled over the price and she bought it.  5000 shillings–about $3.00.

I know from experience that these type of clothes come from huge bundles of used clothing, shipped over from America, cast offs from thrift stores that get too much stuff.  I wondered about the American woman who donated that dress to charity; if only she knew that it ended up in a little salon in East Africa.

This is my life.  How do I even describe it to you?  I’ve been thinking so much about the women I met and became friends with in America this year.  I’ve been thinking about how I wish I could give them a glimpse into what this life is really like.

I could have described how earlier this morning, I went to the main grocery store in town–the one that sells imported products.  I could have told you how I the power went out while I was there, and how I waited in line for an hour because the store couldn’t get their power back-up system to work and thus couldn’t check anybody out.  Finally, in total frustration, my friend and I abandoned our carts in line and left the store.

I could have told you about how when I buy rice or beans, I always put them in the freezer overnight before I put them in the pantry, so that I kill all the bugs first.

I could have told you about the butcher shop where I buy meat, how it stinks to high heaven but he has the best prices and so I put up with it.

I loved my time with you, my American friends.  I’m going to try to give you a glimpse into this life here.  Hang with me while I attempt.

She’s At My Table

By

On July 26, 2014

In Other

Do you remember the story of Zawadi?  Click the link, if you never read it.  And even if you did, read it again, because it’s a pretty cool story.

Zawadi has been home for almost a year now, but it happened shortly after we left for the States, so we never got to get to know her and we never got to celebrate with Ben and Lauren.

So it’s pretty amazing and wonderful and awesome that now she’s at my table, and playing with my children.  Her parents are some of our best friends, so the kids will practically be raised as cousins.

We’re pretty happy about that.

Diary of an International Transition: Days 3, 4, 5

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On July 24, 2014

In Other

My days have been spent unpacking.

My nights have been spent lying awake, trying to get my body to overcome jetlag.  

And that about sums it up.  

Both are improving dramatically.  

On Monday, we unpacked all the stuff we brought from the States.  On Tuesday, we started tackling the garage, where we had stored everything else (except our furniture–the family in our house was using that).  

Seriously, the stuff in our garage looked like it had been there 25 years, with the dirt and the lizards and cockroaches and the moths and various droppings from the lizards and the cockroaches.  I had forgotten how dirty everything gets here.  But thankfully, everything has recovered.  

The above picture is our bedroom earlier today, and right now, it’s almost completely put away.  Progress!

Here are a few other images from today.  

We transformed the garage into the kids’ playroom. I LOVE THIS.

Our landlord had cut down the gigantic, gorgeous trees in our yard right before we arrived.  She had been talking about this for a while, since the roots were wreaking havoc, but we were still so sad to see them go.  See how lonely that tire swing looks?  

I’m not actually sure our dogs remember us.

Spaghetti sauce cooking on the stove; a common site in my kitchen.  Tomatoes are plentiful and cheap here, and the canned stuff is expensive.  This is about six pounds of tomatoes, cooked down.  

This afternoon the vet stopped by (unannounced; he does that from time to time) and told me that I got fat in America.  This is a compliment in Tanzania.  I did my best to smile and thank him!

Tonight, as I was locking up, I picked up a toy the kids had left on the porch.  A giant rhinoceros beetle fell off it and bit my finger and just about gave me a heart attack.  Thankfully, it only gave me a bloody finger.

Oh yes, I am home.

This is the end of my Transition Diary….I will move onto other topics now.  Thanks for reading along!  

Diary of an International Transition: Arrival Day and Day 2

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On July 21, 2014

In Other

The five hour flight from Dubai to Dar es Salaam seemed really short after the other parts of our trip.

But the contrast between Dubai and Dar is enough to boggle the mind.

Dubai is one of the richest cities in the world, and the airport is practically a small city.  It has three terminals, and Terminal 3 is the largest building in the world by floor space and the largest airport terminal in the world.  Yeah.  Imagine huge glass ceilings and gigantic sparkling pillars and marble floors.  And Dubai has only 2 million people.

Dar, on the other hand, has over 5 million people.  However, its one and only airport’s arrival terminal consists of two rooms.  Two.  Rooms.  You walk into the immigration room straight off the tarmac, and go from there into the baggage claim/customs room.  Our flight had over 200 people on it, so you can imagine that we all got up close and personal in the airport.

Talk about culture shock.

We arrived around 3 pm but didn’t get out of the airport until 4:30.  Things go a little slow in there, especially when waiting for 13 pieces of luggage.

Our wonderful friends Ben and Lauren (and Zawadi!) were waiting for us….what a welcome, wonderful sight after so many good-byes and so many hours of travel!  They also made us dinner and brought us groceries.

And today was our first full day.

We are back in our previous house, the house Gil and I have lived in the longest since we’ve been married.  It is such a huge blessing to come back to a house, and we are so thankful for the family who stayed here while we were gone.

Today we spent our time unpacking, arranging, organizing…you get the idea.  We went to the Voda store to get our phones working again, and picked up some groceries.

It’s all very surreal.  One part of me feels like we never left, and that somehow last year was a very long, involved dream.  Another part of me feels like all of this is very familiar, but not where I belong, and that somehow that was a different person who lived that life in Tanzania.

It’s weird.

Long time habits that I had forgotten about are coming back to me.  How to smash the cockroaches in my cabinet.  To laugh, not scream, when I pick up my toaster and a gecko runs out.  What type of mayonnaise to buy.  What sweat feels like.  How to convert shillings.  Swahili.

They say that when people first move to another country, the first six months are the honeymoon period, when everything is exciting and adventurous.  Then they start hating everything for a while.  Eventually, they adapt and come to a happy medium in their new life.

I think that in re-entry to a country where you previously lived, you skip the honeymoon and go straight to the hatred.  Ugh.  The traffic.  The insane drivers who seem to have no value on human life or property.  The ticks (spent an hour today de-ticking our dog).  The cockroaches.  And to top it all off, we had no electricity today from 10 am until 7 pm (and no back-up systems currently working).  It’s almost as if Tanzania was laughing at me.  Oh yeah?  You really thought you wanted to live here?  What were you thinking?  

Thankfully, I’ve done this enough times to know that the “hatred” phase won’t last very long either.  I know I will get used to life again soon and maybe even be brave enough to drive in a few days.

You call me out upon the waters 

The great unknown where feet may fail

And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand

I didn’t take any pictures today…..a little too overwhelming.  But here’s a post from a few years ago with pictures of our house, if you are interested.

Let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me.

Diary of an International Transition: Countdown Day 1–Departure Day and Traveling

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On July 20, 2014

In Life in Tanzania, Third Culture Kids

I woke up at four yesterday morning and couldn’t go back to sleep.  Darn it.  I was hoping to make it till 6.

I always have trouble eating on Departure Day.  I forced down some breakfast.

I bathed all the kids and slathered them—literally—with lotion.  The dry air on the plane makes their skin look like the Sahara Desert.

Did one last load of laundry and stuffed the rest into our already bulging luggage.  Sealed all the tubs with zip ties.

Forced down a little lunch and packed up our van and my brother’s SUV.  Off to San Francisco.

Miraculously, the guy checking us in didn’t even look at the scale.  Whew.  Huge sigh of relief.

We said good-bye to my family and pushed our weeping children through the security entrance. It never gets easier, but I knew we would be okay once we went through the door.  We were, though I still am trying not to think about all we have left behind.

Once we got through security, I was all at once exhausted and ravenously hungry as the adrenaline leaked out of me.  We had made it, and only had the plane trip ahead of us.

As we were boarding the plane, there was a table full of complimentary newspapers for the taking. Almost all of them had their full page cover story on the Malaysian airline crash.  Um, yeah, I think I’ll skip a newspaper today.  You would think those would be good times for the complimentary newspapers to be removed.  Or maybe, it just boosts their alcohol sales on-board.

A couple of months ago, we were at Disneyland and Josiah asked me, “Is Disneyland really the happiest place on earth?”

I told him that I thought there were lots of happy places, and gave him some examples.

He thought about this a moment, and then said, “I think the plane is the happiest place.”

I just about doubled over. “Really?” I said.  “Why?”

He smiled, “Because I get to watch so many movies.”

Ah ha.

He is right.  The plane is the only time the kids are allowed to watch 5 movies in a row.  The only time.

The plane is one of my least favorite places on earth.  Especially with children.  It’s hard enough not to get claustrophobic in a steel tube 30,000 feet above the earth for 20 hours, let alone trying to sleep sitting up and in between, keeping the kids from spilling their meal onto their lap (or mine).

I definitely would not win any Pinterest awards for “creative activities for kids on the plane.”  While packing last week, I came across Grace’s math flash cards and contemplated putting them in her carry-on.  That
lasted about five seconds until I came to my senses and remembered that we don’t have any cool little parent/child learning moments on the plane in our
family.  It’s not about “using our time well.”  It’s about survival, and that means 5 movies in a row.

I also am not above using children’s Benadryl.  Hey, until you’ve had a non stop, 16 hour flight with your kids, don’t judge.

Obviously, it worked. Look at Lily’s sleeping position of choice. Notice where her head is (on the right) and where her bum is (on the left). Comfy, eh?

We flew over the North Pole (which is pretty cool from 30,000 feet up) and down across Europe (thankfully avoiding Ukraine) and into the Middle East city of Dubai, which is one of the richest cities in the world.

I am writing this from Dubai.  We are near the end of a fifteen hour layover.  Thankfully, our airline gave us complimentary hotel room and even food vouchers.  It’s amazing what a real bed and a shower does for the soul after spending 16 hours in a metal tube.

Soon, we’ll leave for a five-hour trip (which seems positively short right now) to Dar es Salaam.  On our way back to the airport from the hotel, Grace reunited with one of her classmates (and family) from HOPAC, also heading back to Dar. Cool!

The adventure continues.

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