You've Got a Brand New (Used)…

Habari!

In Muyenzi Roll Out, I mentioned that we gave a lot of our things away. More so me than Elizabeth, but that was mostly because I brought more with me in the first place, bought more while I was here, and therefore, had more to give.

After sorting through all of my clothing, I was able to shed myself of over 2/3 of my wardrobe and all but 3 pairs of shoes, and I’m happy to say that E and I filled 3 big bags full of clothes that will be donated to the Tumaini Fund, which works with widows and orphans in Kagera Region.

As for any and all of my school supplies, from textbooks to post-it notes and pencil sharpeners, went to students at Muyenzi Secondary School and Bukililo Secondary School (the students whom I sponsor there).

Except, of course, for my crayons and colored pencils and markers and construction paper, and jump-ropes and stickers, because those went to the orphanage in Rulenge, and both the nuns and the kids were so excited for presents!

Our household items, from cutting boards and knives to measuring cups and ground black pepper, were given to Mama Kabibi.

Our water tap was donated to Muyenzi Secondary School’s girls dormitory.

My bicycle went to one of my Nyota Fund scholars at Bukililo Secondary School (story to come), as well as the mattress we bought for our infrequent guests.

And that was pretty much it. It felt great to give a lot of the things away, because I knew they’d serve themselves well in their new home.

And though I wanted to use my TV announcer voice every time I handed something over (Behind door #4 is your BRAND NEW OLD BICYCLE!!!!!!!!), I refrained (much to my own chagrin, and much to the relief of Elizabeth).

But it doesn’t mean I didn’t think it. J

Mpaka Baadaye,

- MM

Muyenzi Roll Out

Habari!

I’m going to make a promise to myself that I hope I will never break from this moment on:

I, Marisa Lynn Ranieri, promise to never, ever move out of a house again where a trash disposal system is not already in place.

The hardest part of moving out of our Muyenzi house wasn’t trying to figure out what was going with us (or how it was going with us) but how we would deal with what wasn’t going with us.

Think about it – imagine moving somewhere and trying to get rid of things you don’t want (from extra medicine to old pepper shakers to broken shoes to Ziploc bags with holes in them) WITHOUT HAVING A TRASH CAN TO PUT THEM IN.

Therefore, Elizabeth and I had to put all of these extra things into five piles:

1.      Things we can donate / give to someone

2.      Things we might be able to donate / give to someone

3.      Things we can definitely burn in a fire

4.      Things we maybe can burn in a fire (and not die from fumes)

5.      Things we have no clue about

Luckily for us, we were able to find good homes for a lot of our stuff – orphanages, students, Mama Kabibi, the Tumaini Fund, other staff members and even more luckily, we were able to burn a lot of things (mostly paper, but I still might have contracted cancer from burning plastics). Other things we packed to bring to Ngara to see if we can get rid of it here, or in Dar es Salaam, or just acknowledged the fact that it’s going to make the long journey back to the US of A. Yet, that still left us with that final pile – which thanks to Mama K, no longer became our issue.

But it left me thinking, well, if it’s not flammable and not usable, what on earth is going to happen to it? 

I guess at the moment, it’s not really my place to worry about it. But if Mama K wasn’t such a Godsend, I would still be in Muyenzi looking at a pile of random junk, wondering what the next step would be.

Trash disposal here is a serious issue, and maybe solely because of it, I’d never want to live somewhere remote like this again.

Well, for that reason, and because it lacks electricity, which means no fridge, which means no cheese.

NO CHEESE?! No way, Jose!

Mpaka Baadaye,

- MM

A Continental Drift

Habari!

Some of these statistics are true, and perhaps some are slightly different because I'm not sure what year this was put together, but you know I'm a sucker for a great infographic, so here it is anyways (Can you imagine, over one thousand languages?!). 

Mpaka Baadaye,

- Mwalimu M

A Year Ago Today

Habari!

A year ago today, my degree was conferred, I moved my tassel from one side of my cap to the other, and I finished, what I would consider, an amazing undergraduate career at the George Washington University.

In the past 365 days, I road-tripped from NY to Tennessee, moved to Tanzania, met too many amazing people, taught at a rural secondary school for two full terms (one year), backpacked around East Africa for 35 days, started a scholarship fund that so far has paid for 30 students to be in school, applied to 3 graduate programs, was admitted to all three, and decided to attend NYU this coming fall for a Masters in Social and Cultural Analysis.

In the past 365 days I got a boyfriend, dumped a boyfriend, found a new boy here, and then had to say goodbye. I’ve made numerous close friends, and went 9 whole months essentially never leaving my roommate’s side, and never even having a fight! I’ve made bread, burned bread, and broken bread with Tanzanians and Mzungus alike.

I’ve learned more about myself (a never-ending journey), East Africa, social dynamics, and how to be a better, more understanding person. I’ve blogged almost every day, enhanced my skills as a writer and a storyteller, overhauled my resume, and kept in touch with people I expected, as well as some I didn’t.

I’ve made eggplant parm (without the parm) over charcoal, survived a brief hospital stay / bout of malaria, had my bag run over by a bus, and walked hundreds of kilometers of unpaved roads.

I’ve circumnavigated Lake Victoria, danced with Australians, climbed (part of) Mt. Kilimanjaro, held a crocodile in my hands, witnessed the final UN judicial hearing for the Rwanda Genocide and was reunited with Hassan (my old friend in Mombasa).

Needless to say, it’s been an amazing life-changing year.

No matter where in the world you are, no matter what you’re doing, or how old you are - don’t be afraid of change. Don’t be afraid to make memories. Don’t be afraid to do what you love, and love what you do. Don’t be afraid to walk away from the bad, hold on to the good, and say goodbye when the time is right.

And if you’re given the chance, don’t be afraid to do it all over again (either for old time’s sake, or to do it again right). 

Mpaka Baadaye,

- MM

Emotional Armour

Habari!

This past week probably should have been extremely emotionally trying, since it was the last week that I was in Muyenzi, saying goodbye to both my students and Elizabeth’s students, packing up all of my belongings, and with a final wave, saying goodbye to the place that I’ve called “home” for the past nine months.

Oddly enough, I’ve yet to shed a single tear. Even when I hugged Mama Kabibi goodbye for the last time, waved goodbye to some of my favorite students, donating pencils and pens and markers to little children at the orphanage, to students who needed it the most, nad other people who I’ve become well acquainted with.

I didn’t cry when my students performed songs and dances that they made up and choreographed in my honor, nor when one of my top Form Two students stood in front of the school and recited a goodbye speech / goodbye prayer for me I didn’t cry when I walked down the path from school to my house for the last time, nor when the car pulled out of the driveway.

I can’t really say why my heart’s been hardened. It’s not that I’m not sad, because I am. It’s not that I don’t care, because I do. It’s not because I won’t miss them, because I will, with every inch of my being.

I guess that subconsciously, I’m trying to shield myself from the heartache. I know that at some point, the tears will be flowing, but because I’ve staggered my departure, it will be far less painful in the end.

Now, I have said goodbye to Muyenzi and my life there. For the next week, I’ll be in Ngara, tying up loose ends, spending time with my close WorldTeach friends, and preparing to leave Kagera Region. From there, I’ll attend my end-of-service conference in Dar-es-Salaam, say more goodbyes to people I love, and spend a little over a week in Zanzibar coming to peace with the last ten months, getting a little bit of a tan, and reminiscing about the best moments, the worst moments, and everything in between.

Slowly but surely, I’m feeling the strain.

Slowly but surely, the end is coming. 

Mpaka Baadaye,

- MM

Inspiration Friday

Habari!

Today's my last day at Muyenzi Seconday School, and I'm sure the tears will be flowing. 

If anything is comforting, maybe it's this.

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Thoughts on: Hardship, Elation, and Perserverance

 Habari!

I'll say it loud and I'll say it proud: I'm a sucker for inspiration. Tell me a story about the underdog winning, or someone making it from nothing, and I'm in tears. Throw in a a person that exudes determination or a survivor and I'm a wreck for days.

I've found nothing I'm in greater awe in than some of the people I've met here and their stories.  Whether I found them during my travels, came across them in casual conversations, or just intuitively knew when a face or an outfit or a situation says a thousand words - they shock me, they inspire me, and they make me believe in the limitless possibility of human beings. 

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There's students with no parents; who live on their own and take care of themselves and their younger siblings; trying to get a secondary education in order to change the trajectory of their lives.

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There's a man in Dar es Salaam who lived on the streets for years, overcame an addiction to heroin through sheer will, taught himself how to read and write, and now drives a taxi by day and runs a small restaurant with his wife in the evenings.

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There's a 23 year old ( just like me) in Ngara who after his parents died, dropped out of school and moved nomadically between Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania looking for work, becoming fluent in 3 additional languages; and is now finally attending an all-adults secondary school nearby.

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 Life here is fragile. Parents die from AIDS, children suffer from severe malnourishment. Pregnancies aren’t discussed until after the child is born, and even then, it’s a touchy subject until the mother believes it’s going to survive. Traffic accidents are horrible; medical care is limited, and many times, healing properly or being treated at all isn’t even an option.

Hunger, loss, death: these exist here in magnitudes that I read about in books and magazines and newspaper articles, and I’m not even in a war zone.

But the people, the people here are so…content. Happy.

They accept fate, life is what it is.

You cry for a moment, and then you move on. You walk away from people just as easily as you forged relationships with them; fast and determined.

Nothing is permanent.

You couldn’t expect it to be; you’re reminded far too often that it’s simply not the case.

You’d be delusional to think your parents live forever, that hunger could always be subsided, that opportunities and rewards go to the people who deserve it the most.

It’s not that you’d be crazy to think that the world is fair or just…but you might be. That’s not what the signs are pointing to around here.

The rhyme or reason of life is in the hands of God and God alone, and perhaps their unwavering faith is the only way they can answer why it seems that most times, things aren’t going right.

But they continue. They smile and laugh. They wave to strangers and care deeply about one another. They dance and sing and pray that God allows them another day to enjoy whatever it is that they can.

Watching them perservere, defy the odds, and be more happy than any person in America that I’ve met is just beautiful.

Somehow, I envy them. Their raw, unfiltered elation. Their acceptance of what is. Their ability to move on, to forgive, to find happiness in the recesses of darkness. Their ability to not allow sadness or disappointment consume them.

What if that’s how all of us faced each day?