I bonded with Mark and Jan when I called them ten days after arriving in Tanzania because I had a panic attack. I became friends with Prakash and Harsha when they invited Gil and me to sleep at their house that night.

Carol showed me how to grocery shop in a new country. I got to know Alyssa during her long hours combing lice out of my hair. Everest became an extension of our family during the years he fixed our plumbing, electricity, and immigration problems. We called Dan and Janet when Gil broke out in a sudden, high fever. Janelle and I became friends while being stranded by the old school car multiple times. Lucy and I shared our life stories while she patiently stretched my Swahili skills. 

When thrust into a country where I had no extended family, didn’t speak the language, and had to learn new ways of surviving, I had to throw myself at the mercy of others. Yes, it was humiliating to be so dependent, but I didn’t have a choice. And when I got my feet under me and other new people arrived, they turned to me for a lifeline – and it was fulfilling and gratifying to help. Bonds formed quickly, deeply, permanently. 

These weren’t just friendships based on casual, common interests. They were relationships built on necessity and desperation, forming an intricate web of the sorrows and joys of daily life. 

When we relocated to a brand new city in California three years ago, I found myself frustrated that it took so long to make friends and feel like I was part of a community. In Tanzania, it had happened almost instantaneously. What was different? It slowly dawned on me: In America, I didn’t need to depend on anyone.