July 13: Home Free

Today is the day. In 15 minutes I will be picked up by an SIC truck, and taken back to Arusha for the last time. Today is the day I've been planning on since February, when I bought my plane tickets, and especially since arriving here in Shishitoni. This is the day that I've been acutely aware of for the last two months, counting down the days until it arrived, knowing that 7 days after it did, I'd be on my way home.
But there's a part of me that feels like in 15 minutes, I'll be that much closer to home, yet also that much further from my home here in the village...
Let me explain.

Last night, after we had finished eating dinner (a dinner feasting on rice and one of the Pallangyo's finest roosters), I gave the family a little token of appreciation (a few little things like a headlamp, hand-sanitizer, and rain poncho, and also some photographs of our time together over the last two months). They were so appreciative and genuinely thankful, just smiling as they recounted the memories of each photograph.
Then Baba, gave this truly heartfelt speech about how he was thankful to God for sending Shujaa and myself to them, how we fit in perfectly into their family and how I was to consider Baba and Mama my 2nd Father and Mother, just as they considered me to be their son living in America. He had teared up a bit, and that's when Mama disappeared for a moment, only to return with a bag in her hands. She said that in her hands was a present for my real Mother, to symbolize their mutual care for me, their son.
Baba, who had regained his composure, said that they pray to God for his help and guidance in my finding a job back in America because, as they put it, "You need a job to make money, and you need money to be able to come back and see us again." Except the next time I come, they want me to bring my entire family.
I was so touched by their sincerity, that I just sat there, eyes glossed and grinning in the silence that followed. I had to swallow once or twice before I could speak, but afterwards I told them how grateful I was for everything they had done for me for the last 7 weeks, for making me feel at home in a foreign country, and whats more, feel like part of their family. I told them how incredible and remarkably coincidental it is that for the last several months, my family and friends in America have been praying for me and my adventures and experiences in Tanzania, and now, as I prepare to return home to them, I have a new Tanzanian family who will be praying for my adventures and experiences back in the US.
With that, I said good night to the family, but still at this very moment (now just 5 minutes until I am to be picked up), I'm thinking about how wonderful last night was, and how blessed I feel to have the prayers and support of so many people at home in the US and here in Tanzania.

Thank You So Much

July 8: Something has to Change

There are no cars in Shishitoni. Only footpaths and shortcuts that weave in and out between cornfields, coffee farms, hundreds of tall isolated hills and 20 beautiful lakes. If I were here as a photographer, it would be "Hakuna Matata." But as a member of an AIDS awareness campaign, the immobility of the town is a real challenge.
Aside from teaching in the primary schools, where our target audience is eager (and required) to attend, we've attempted to hold numerous community events and seminars aimed at the adults in Shishitoni. Despite organizing them with the help of the Village Leaders, and announcing them with official posters and letters to each subvillage, the turnout has been "nothing to write home about."
In fact, there was a period of about three weeks when we would walk to the locations of our proposed community teaching and wait for hours for anyone to show...
2-3 hours later, we were still there, sun burnt and lonely.
Each time there was a new excuse for their absence: big church gathering, not enough notice, wrong time posted, and often distance was to blame (this is where Shishitoni's immobility really came into play).
After 3 weeks, we had had enough excuses and decided something had to change. So taking into account that the people of Shishitoni clearly couldn't be convinced to attend voluntary events, we decided to create an event that was slightly more mandatory...
Market Day in our village is held every Tuesday afternoon, and its the one event that rouses nearly the entire village from their reclusive slumber. After all, there are no 24 Hour grocery stores in Shishitoni, and people really enjoy eating each week. Thus, the idea for SIC Community Day was borne.


JULY 10: COMMUNITY DAY
On every duka (corner store in Shishitoni, and on dozens of trees, we posted signs and bulletins about the upcoming SIC community day. It was scheduled to take place on Tuesday, July 10 at the Leguruki Market, and we were banking on a built-in gathering of villagers buying their weekly fruits and veggies. And with the added incentive of a bongo-flava DJ, school performances, and free HIV testing, the turnout was incredible.
Hundreds of people lined the field for the soccer match. All over throughout the market were teaching groups surrounded by villagers asking questions about HIV and AIDS. The school kids performed the HIV songs and raps they've been learning over the last few weeks. And perhaps most exciting, over 50 people were tested for HIV.

July 6: 56 Kids

This morning over chai and chapati (African tortilla bread) I got the run-down on the Pallangyo Family Tree. Apparently, Grandfather Pallangyo was born in 1869 in Arusha. As a member of the Meru Tribe, he married early and often, and by the time he died in 1994 at the ripe old age of 125, he had taken six wives and had a total of 56 children.

I told them they were crazy. It sounded like a biblical chronology of years, wives and children. Nobody could live that long today, and not make the Guinness Book of Records.

But they defended their Grandfather, and even invited me over to the Grandmother's house (the youngest of Grandfather's six wives), to see a picture of him in '93, the year before he died.

As we finished the conversation, I looked at my homestay brother Elidaima, 23 in disbelief. I asked him, "So, do you ever wish you could have 56 kids?"
He paused, and took a quick glance around the room. Then he looked at the ground with this sly grin across his face.

I had my answer.

July 3: In the Classroom

When teaching primary schoolers in Tanzania, there are a few things one should know:
1) There is a script that you must follow upon entry to and exit from a classroom. If you are unaware of the script, you have the potential to feel pretty silly. Example: As soon as we entered the classroom, the students all stood and said, "Thank you foh coming to beneefeet us. Good mahning, suh," to which I replied, "Good morning to you." I was so impressed that the 4th Graders knew English, I hadn't noticed that they continued to stand with a look of anticipation in their eyes. I got a little nervous, so I looked to Shujaa and then said to the class, "We're happy to see you again." United, they all chimed back, "We ah fine, suh," then sat down.

-Apparently I was given the wrong script.

2) Tanzanians love to sing. I learned this lesson soon after I learned lesson number one, and as a music major, it was an exciting challenge to try to incorporate HIV facts and info into a memorable song. Here's the catch; the song had to be in Swahili. So with the help of my teaching partner, we managed to write 3 HIV related songs in Swahili (and then we threw in one English song, "Lean on Me," for good measure). The first song we wrote is called, "Weka Safi" ("Keep it Clean") and it has a "We Will Rock You" rhythm and a message about the importance keeping your environment clean when caring for an AIDS patient. Next is a song called, "Cama Vipi, Uka Pime" ("If So, Get Tested"), which is a rap that stresses the importance for everyone to know their HIV status.
But by far, the most popular song we taught the kids was a showtune-ish song I wrote called "Acha Kabisa" ("Abstinence"), which talks about the most effective ways to prevent HIV transmission. Its been so well-received that the kids request to sing it at the end of every class. Whenever I'm walking down the main road of the village, I usually am greeted once or twice by students screaming that song from their front yard. On one occasion, I had gotten lost walking home and ended up in this deserted strip of land. There was no one in sight to ask directions and I had started to panic. That is, until I heard the faint chorus of "Acha Kabisa" from atop this hill in the distance. I finished singing the song with them and then asked where the heck I was. The kids were able to point me in the right direction, and then I too walked home with that song stuck in my head.