This is Africa.

My brain goes a mile a minute.
I love it here.
I hate it here.
I'm never going home!
I'm getting on a plane and leaving right now!
I want to take every kid home with me.
If another kid touches me with their sticky hands, I am going to kick them.

Seriously, I love it here.
But I miss home. It's so different here in a lot of ways and sometimes I get so frustrated that I can't do more to help.
Some days I feel so exhausted like I poured out everything inside of me.
And some days I wonder what the hell I'm doing here. And it hasn't even been two weeks.

I love my students. I love their eagerness to learn. But I get so frustrated with the society that they live in. I want to change the entire education system in Tanzania. In the entire continent of Africa.
I can't do that.
But I can pour out my heart to each individual child who is placed in my care. One at a time. I can show them love and support and express my faith in them that they actually do have a shot in life. That they won't become the lies they are told. That they won't fall into the poverty and disease that plague their parents. I can do that.
That I can do.

There's a lot to adjust to living in Africa.
I am not a clean freak. But I do like to wash my hands regularly and steer clear of germs if I can help it.
The other day after school, I was walking to the Dalla Dalla stop with at least five little kids running next to me and behind me. A little boy was walking next to me eating a popsicle. With his grubby hands, he broke off a few pieces of his popsicle and handed them to his friends. I though "how sweet of him to share." He then proceeded to lick his hand to clean it and then grab my hand and smile up at me with a big, drooly smile. How could I possibly pull my hand from his in disgust? I smiled back and said "This is Africa."

My students share two erasers between the whole class of about twenty. When they need the eraser they say "teacha! futo!" I ask who has the futo, and every time, someone spits the eraser out of their mouth and hands it to their classmate.
This is Africa.

I can't walk down the street without having the word "Mzungu" (white person) screamed at me, or someone yelling that they want to marry me and come home with me.
This is Africa.

I have 20 weeks and 2 days left.
It already feels so short.
In 142 days, I will be a different person.
I will have new experiences and many stories.
Because you know what?
This is Africa.