"The wrong doing of another does not cancel out the blessings you brought"

I rarely post blogs two days in a row, but I just have something to say.
Yesterday, I posted a blog expressing some negative feelings.
I mean like, sit-in-a-dark-room-listening-to-Sarah-McLachlan kind of feelings.
(You should go read that before you read this, or you'll be totes confused)
Within the past twenty-four hours, the responses I have received have been overwhelming.
Knowing my precious friends and family, I expected people to try to encourage me.
I never expected the heart felt, honest responses which I got to my post.

When I was in Tanzania, every time I posted a blog I had people telling me how proud they were and how "awesome" I am. That makes me a little uncomfortable. It's super nice and I know that the people who wrote those things meant them, but that's not why I do what I do.
And I would trade every compliment and "atta girl" I've ever received, just to know that Rosie will walk one day, or that my students don't go to sleep hungry.
But that's not a thing. You don't get to trade.

After I posted my blog yesterday, I almost deleted it. For two reasons. (1) I thought it was too whiny. (2) I didn't think anyone would truly understand, and I feared people would think I was just plain-old being too hard on myself.
Rarely in my life have I felt so understood.
I have gotten responses from friends who were in Africa with me, friends who have done similar things in different places, and friends who have never experienced what I went through.
And every single one of them gave me hope.
While I was gone, I shared a lot of my experiences on facebook and my blog, so while my friends know a lot of what I went through, they weren't there. They didn't experience it with me, but many of them felt it with me.
But I learned today, that the struggle is universal.
You don't have to be an international wanderer to feel inconsequential.
At some point, we all feel like a grain of sand on a massive beach.

In the past day, I have had people both encourage me, and berate me. Both in a good way.
I've been encouraged to keep my head up, and I've been berated for doubting myself and the power of Love.
I have had people say the most honest, loving things to me, making me feel that it truly is worth it.
Am I still sad? Yes. I wish that I could know full well that Rosie's future is bright.
I don't know that. But I do know that Rosie is bright. I do know that I put my heart into my time with her and no one, including her own mother, has permission to take that away from me.
I learned that from my friend Lauren. She said to me, "The wrongdoing of another does not cancel out the blessings you brought." She's so smart. And she even has an English accent, which makes her sound even smarter.
From my friend Rachel, I learned that I have no idea what "could have been" and I just need to rest in the peace of knowing that I truly did what I could.
From my friend Noraa, I learned that my actions are significant, and that I have no right to blame myself for issues that have existed since the dawn of time.
From my friends Katie and Juliette and Emily, I learned that I have a support system and friends who are willing to understand me.
From my friend Michelle, I learned what the word dichotomy means.
From Rosie, I learned that we don't choose what we get in this life. But we have the power to choose what we do with what we get.
And do you know what I got in this life? I got a hell of a lot more than I could ever possibly deserve. Not only did I get financial blessings and a first-world life, but I got a heart that hurts for others.
Until yesterday, I've always seen this as a curse. I am so glad that my heart is not okay with complacency. I got a family and friends who stand beside me and hold me up when I cannot stand on my own two feet. I have learned that I am a tiny part of this huge, beautiful, awesome, scary, ugly, terrifying, amazing thing called humanity.
And I am so blessed by that.
So to my friends and family, to my roommates and house mates from Tanzania, to Rosie, to her Mother:
Thank you.
It hurts. But thank you for teaching me.

This isn't funny. Just kind of real.

Today, I had a lovely Skype session with my dear friend Megan.
She was my roommate in Tanzania and has just returned to spend a month there.
When she arrived, I asked her to check on Rosie.  (The little girl with Spina Bifida, she's adorable, cute cheeks, wheel chair, watched her stand up for the first time. Refer to 80% of my blog posts)
Today, Megan told me that Rosie is no longer attending school at Hill Crest.
Her mother was taking the money intended to bring Rosie to rehab, and using it to buy a shop.  So Rosie is also no longer attending rehab.
My heart sank.
I think it sank even deeper because I wasn't surprised to hear this news.
Taking care of Rosie was something I felt I was meant to do.
But what was it worth?

My mom once told me a story from when she was a kid.
(At least this is how I remember the story, my mom will probably read this and then inform me that I told it wrong. But here's how it goes as best as I can recall)
Her mom, my granny, saw some stray puppies on the side of the road.
She brought them home, gave them a bath, de-fleed them, fed them, and let the kids play with them.
And then she put them back on the side of the  road.
For a day, the puppies had a home.
But then they returned to their inevitable fate.
Now, don't go getting angry at Granny, this was the 60's and she just wanted to bring her kids some joy. And she thought she was doing right by the puppies by giving them a meal.

Everything looks different in retrospect.
I look back on my time with Rosie, and I wonder if I treated her like she was a stray puppy. Did I just delay the inevitable? After standing up for the first time at 5 years old, and finally getting leg braces, will she now just live her life as a person with no use of her legs? Did I help her or did I hurt her?

I have the sweetest friends and family. I am constantly being encouraged and supported. I appreciate that. But I am anticipating that when I post this, I will have people commenting on it, blindly saying, "no, you did the right thing!"  And that is so nice, but I truly don't know if I did. Before I left Tanzania, I was talking to my friend Melissa, whom I greatly respect. She said, "you know, what we're doing here is really mean. We come here for a few months , and we love these kids. And we let them love us. And then we leave. We tell them we care and we leave. That sucks." She was right. That does suck.

And I don't actually expect to come to any conclusions here. And I don't even have some poignant philosophical thought. And my heart hasn't changed. I still miss those kids. I'm still so glad I went. I still want to go back.
But it's all selfishly.
It's all selfish.
I spent the most amazing months of my life on Tanzania, living with little and loving my kids.
Now I am sitting on my couch writing this on my iPhone.
I drove to work in my brand new car, and I got myself Starbucks this morning.
And it is in these moments that I hate myself.
Just a little.
Just the tiniest bit.
And not in a self loathing, I-really-hate-myself kind of way.

I just hate that I am more of a product than a human being.
I hate that Rosie's life has returned to even worse than what it was when I got there. At least she was  in school before I met her. If I hadn't tried to help her, she  might still be there.
I hate that I haven't changed the world, like I planned to.
And more than anything, I hate that the world has changed me.  

We'll see where the wind takes me.

For so long, my life has been "Africa"
Months before I left, Africa was all that I spoke about, all that I thought about. I spent all my time preparing and getting ready.
Now that I'm home, everyone has been asking me how it was, what I did, if I miss it, everything.
I've been home a month and a half now, and the questions are coming less frequently, but the flashbacks are not.
I think of my home in Tanzania almost constantly.
I look through the pictures of my kids every chance I get, and not a night has gone by where i haven't dreamed of at least one of my wonderful housemates.
My suitcase still sits on my floor, waiting to be emptied.
I understand that is ridiculous, but I just cannot bring myself to do it. Emptying my suitcase is the final step to completely transitioning into life here. (Symbolically, that is. Realistically, it's just a mess in my room.)
The difficulty I am faced with right now is that, for the past year or so, my life has revolved around Africa, and now it doesn't.
The most common question I get asked is, "what next?"
My response is, "Well, next, I'm going to PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE for asking me questions I cant answer!" ...I mean "Oh, I don't know yet, we'll see where the wind takes me."
There are very few things I know for sure in this life.
Those things include:
1. God watches over me and I am never left hanging for long.
2. Yelling at a person is never the best option.
3. If you get too adventurous with the toaster oven, it will start a fire.

Everything else is a maybe.
Hopefully I'll see my kids again, hopefully I'll be back in Africa soon.
Those are the things I'm planning for, but I have learned to see where life takes me. And I've learned to trust life. So far, it has taken me to some pretty incredible places.

For now, I am just biding my time, working, cultivating my wonderful friendships, watching Downton Abbey, taking pictures of my dog, and training for a half marathon.

We'll see where the wind takes me.

Somebody call the WAHmbulance.

I've spent the past week and a half avoiding writing this, because I don't want to face the fact that this part of my journey is over and I am actually in New Jersey.

I cannot believe it was almost two weeks ago that I got into that taxi and drove away from the place I've come to call home.
After the countless times that I've watched other people leave Arusha, I was completely unprepared for my own departure.
My housemates were incredible and sweet, and made me feel so loved.
The cab ride to the airport felt like a dream. Like a really weird dream where you know you're dreaming and you're trying so hard to wake up but you just can't.
Holy crap, I didn't think I would get this emotional writing this.
But there is a group of people who live in a house in Sakina who would not be surprised at all that I'm sobbing.
There is a group of people who live in a house in Sakina whom I just want to hug and sit on the porch with and talk about our days and play stupid pranks with.

Time moves so strangely here. I feel like I just got home, and in some ways, I feel like I've been home for months. But I do not feel like I never left. I will never feel that way.
There are things that changed in my heart that are irreversible.
Never again will I be the same girl I was six months ago.
I came home with a lot of scars.
46 bug bite scars.
scars on my legs, on my knees, elbows, arms, face, and multiple bruises I have no explanation for.

But the real scars are the ones inside of me.
The ones that formed on my heart when I walked away from my kids.
The ones that represent all the memories I made, and the hard times I went through with my friends by my side.

My dear friend and room mate, Mane, wrote me a letter, and in it, she said;
      "I believe scars are the marks life leaves behind to help us remember what we have learned and lived, to remind us that we are strong and can overcome anything. They are the marks people we meet leave when they walk away, and help to remind us how important it is that they were present in that time."

She is so right.
I have scars.
All over my body.
And I also have a scar on the inside for ever single child that I love and every single mzungu I lived with who became like family to me.
I am so grateful for these scars.
They say all scars have a story, right?
I got a lot of stories.

This will be a process, living at home.
It is not easy to leave Africa and live in New Jersey.
It's weird.
That's the only word I can think of. I've been feeling weird since I got here.
But weird's not bad, and I know I'll be okay.
I have all my scars to get me through it.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M LEAVING TOMORROW?!

It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to the children who have become mine.

This is so difficult, and unknowingly, they make it even harder for me by loving me back.
On Monday, I said goodbye to my kids at Cheti, and my Angel.
The kids sang me a song and gave me a gift and said thank you, and I cried.
I met Angel's family, and told her I would not see her for a while, and I cried.
She asked me when I was coming back, and I told her it would probably be at least a year, and I cried.
She got sad and said, "Okay, Teacha, I love you" and kissed me on the cheek, and I cried.
Then she called me "Mama" and I SOBBED.

Today, I said goodbye to my kids who live at the Hope Orphanage.
I brought them books and vitamins, and told them I loved them, and I cried.
We played games, and I read them stories, and I cried.
I couldn't handle it, so I walked to the back of the building, and I cried.
They all followed me to see if I was okay and give me hugs, and I cried.
We folded their laundry and sang songs, and I cried.
They told me not to go home, and I cried.
I kissed them all on the head, told them I loved them, and I cried.
I waved to them, walked out the gate, shut the door, and I cried.
Then they all ran out the gate after me to hug me one more time, and I SOBBED.

I cried on the ride home, I cried when I walked in the door, I cried when I looked at the pictures we took today, I am currently crying.

I have to do this again twice tomorrow.
I have to say goodbye to my students tomorrow morning, and I have to say goodbye to my housemates, who have become my friends and family tomorrow evening.
I hate goodbyes.

I am so happy to see my friends and family in the states, but my heart is being torn to shreds.
I cannot believe this is my last night in Africa.
It flew by.

Where did half a year go?
It went into the cracks and crevices in the rocks that line the dirt path I walk every morning.
It went into every laugh, every smile, and every tear experienced over the past five months.
It went into the hearts of all the children I have fallen in love with and who have become mine.
It went into every pang I felt in my heart when one of my kids told me they loved me for the first time.
It went into every loud night staying up laughing with my room mates.
It went into every breath expelled during meaningful conversations with my house mates about how we can possibly change the world.
It went into the heart of every wonderful person I've lived with and become friends with in this house.

I've said goodbye to a lot of my fellow volunteers over the past few months, and that was always hard.
But to look into the eyes of my babies, and tell them I'm leaving them, that I won't be back for a while, that I love them, but I have another family, that I let them love me and now I'm going away...
I have experienced very few pains greater than this.

It is with a heavy heart that I say "kwaheri".

It's a bitter sweet symphony

My life is one giant contradiction.
I am so exhausted, and so happy.
I am dreading leaving Africa, and so excited to be with my friends and family.
I am frustrated, and fulfilled.

Life in Africa is a giant contradiction.
It is the most frustrating place on Earth (except maybe the DMV) and also the most beautiful place on Earth.
This weekend, my friends and I took a last minute trip to a beach town called Tanga.
You drive through the slums, through the vast countryside, which is beautiful and looks like you're driving through the Lion King, through some more slums, and come out in a beautiful African Paradise.

It was an incredible weekend. But getting to and from Tanga by bus is a Hell I would not wish upon my worst enemy.
Picture a greyhound bus, with teeny tiny seats, where your knees don't fit at all, even if you're short like me, fill it to the brim with people in every seat, people on laps, people standing, kids throwing up, crying babies, make it 100 degrees Fahrenheit, add the fact that most people on this bus have never worn deodorant, and do that for over eight hours.
It's worth it for the incredible weekend break in Tanga, but it's freaking frustrating.
But then, also put in that bus, your wonderful friends whom you have grown to love with your whole heart.
And put in a little slap-happiness, and you can turn this aggravating trek into a great memory.
Today, on the ride home, I sat in a three-seater with my friend Lauren, and we just  did not have the patience to be cramped in the seat, so we took a blanket, rolled it up, put it on the seat between us, and pretended it was a baby. Every time someone came by to sit in the seat we would pet the blanket, and say, "Shhh, it's okay, Freddie, don't cry." We named the baby Freddie Prinze the Third. We definitely had cabin fever. Somehow, we got away with it, and we basically just laughed at our baby for eight hours straight.

Bare with my weird story, I'm still over-exhausted.
What I'm trying to say in a very round-about way, is that I have learned to turn frustrating situations into good memories.
Five months ago, if you had put me on that bus, I would have screamed the entire time.
Now, I just turn bedding into babies, and go with the flow.

I got here at the end of November, and I was often frustrated with many things I saw and experienced around Tanzania.
The education system, the cultural norms, the men, the food-service industry, the public transportation, everything.
Now, these are my norms, this is my life.
I don't know what I'll do when I go "home". It now feels weird to call America home.
I don't know what I'll do when I go out to eat, and food comes in less than two hours, when people are on time, when guys are respectful to me around town, when everyone is in a rush, when I always have to be somewhere NOW.

My friend Samantha is here for my last two weeks, which has made me so happy, but I can't help but laugh every time she gets frustrated. When she says "How freakin long does it take to make a pizza?" and I reply, "could take all day, this is Africa."

These things that used to make me so angry, are now normal, I'm used to them, and I actually kind of relish them. This is part of life in Africa.
I'm sure it will be nice for a while to have people be on time and have things be quick, and not having twelve kids hanging all over me all the time, but I will miss it.

Someone once told me, "In America, you've got clocks, but in Africa, we've got time."
This is so true.
We've got time.
But, I actually don't have much time left now.
I'll be leaving my home in one weeks and four days.
I might puke.
Do not get me wrong, I am so excited and ready to be back in the familiar with my loved ones, but I now have a new familiar. A new normal.
My heart is being torn in two at the moment.
The closer it gets to the 2nd of May, the more excited I get about going back to the States, and the more upset I get at the prospect of leaving Africa, and my kids.
This is just a rant, and like I said, I am extremely exhausted, but these are my thoughts, and that's that.
Have a great day, everyone, and don't let the little things getcha down.

Babies, babies, every where!

I want to tell you about three incredible people.

I met them all today, and each of them has inspired me beyond belief. 

They are all babies.

I went to Cradle of Love baby orphanage today with my friends Jenn and Matt to visit.

It is an awesome establishment! They take care of babies under 3 years old if they are abandoned, or sick beyond their family's ability to handle, or just orphaned.

The first baby I met was a little albino baby boy named Jackson. 

He was so freaking cute! 

In Tanzania, being albino is sort of taboo. 

There is a lot of superstition in the culture here, and much of it has to do with albino people. 

It is widely believed that the blood of an albino person will cure you of AIDS. 

Clearly, this is not true, but albino people are often hunted, because they are thought to be magical in the way of healing people with blood and body parts.

Albino limbs are sold to witch doctors to make potions.

This is sick.

I don't know the full story of how Jackson ended up at the orphanage. Maybe his family abandoned him because he was albino, maybe they placed him in the orphanage because he was not safe at home.

Jackson does not have AIDS-curing blood.

He is not magic.

But what he is, is a beautiful, sweet baby boy with big blue eyes, who loves to play.

He is such a happy little baby, and I hope that he will have a future where he can grow up into an incredible man. I love Tanzania, but these old superstitions are disgusting and need to end.

Another baby I met was called Jerry.

Jerry was so cute and giggly, and is just learning to walk.

I fed him lunch, and then we just walked for like fifteen minutes.

He is not very steady on his feet, and he had a death-grip on my thumbs as we took teeny tiny, faltering steps all around the orphanage.

Watching his determination while trying to walk was so cool and inspiring! 

He was concentrating so hard, and was determined to take the next step, and the next.

Jerry has HIV.

He is a baby. And he is HIV positive.

It is not fair.

Jerry's only worry is whether he will stay upright to take the next step.

Jerry is a fighter. 

Jerry inspires me.

The last baby I want to tell you about is called Gift.

He is approximately two months old, they are not sure exactly when he was born.

He was found in March in a pit-toilet.

These toilets are just huge holes in the ground with an outhouse over them, and they are often 40ft deep or so.

Someone, most likely his mother, threw him in this pit.

He was found by a man who was able, with much difficulty, to rescue him from this hole.

He had sores all over him and was very sick.

But he was alive!

What an incredible feat!

He is so tiny, his little hands are like minuscule butterflies, and he loves to hold on to your fingers.

He had some difficulty breathing, but his sores are gone, and he is definitely on the mend.

This tiny person, who is about the size of my head, inspired me so much.

An infant, thrown down a deep hole, into human waste for God knows how long.

And he survived.

I cannot wait to see what this baby does in his life, because I know there was a reason that he survived.

All of these situations are sad, but these babies are now being taken care of.

They'll be okay.

These three itty-bitty people gave me so much hope.

They are Braver than they Believe.

Some people are so poor all they have is money. Some people are so rich, they have nothing but the love in their hearts.

I am a teacher.
I teach kids school things, like Math, English, Science, and boring stuff like that.
But what my kids teach me is so much more.
What Africa teaches me is so much more.
I've been here almost four and a half months and I have learned so many lessons.

I have learned to be patient. Why rush? Sometimes, you can make the best memories when you are just waiting around.

Time moves by so quickly. Why try to force it to go any faster? Cherish every moment. Do you know how much you are missing when you are by-passing right now in hopes to get to later more quickly? Now is the most important time. It's the only time that actually exists.

I have learned not to stress about money or not having enough. Things will work out, they always do. Trust that.

I have learned that it's alright to feel. The only way to truly experience life is to feel. Allow yourself to feel everything. Happiness, excitement, compassion, deep sorrow, inexplicable joy. Even sadness is a beautiful feeling that can bring about great change.

I have learned that there is no horrible day that cannot be made better by laughing with a child. Children know a lot more than we tend to give them credit for. Those people know how to laugh, how to experience joy. Take a page outta their book.

I have learned that sometimes it is important to stay dry, and sometimes it is important to dance in the rain. Learn the difference, but when it's time to dance, just go for it!

I have learned that it is not only okay to lean on other people sometimes, but necessary. You cannot carry the whole world on your shoulders. You will drop it, but with a friend, burdens are lighter, hardships are easier, complications are simpler.

I have learned that I cannot save the world. I can't do it. It's never gonna happen. But I can teach what I know to the kids around me. I can do what I'm able to for every person placed in my path. I can do a little for a few people, and that will make all the difference.

I have learned that adversity doesn't last. The day always ends. Tomorrow always comes. Push through, I promise you will make it.

I have learned that mud won't hurt you. But rocks, motorcycles, buses, African roads, and walls will. Play in the mud, but always watch your step.

I have learned that although our bodies stop growing, our hearts and minds do not have a limit to the stretching they will do. Every time I think my heart is being stretched so tightly that it will burst, it just grows a little more, expands. The more people you fall in love with, the more your heart will make room.

I have learned that the hardest part of having nothing is having nothing to share. I have learned that poverty has a lot less to do with money and possessions than you'd think. Some people are so poor all they have is money. Some people are so rich, they have nothing but the love in their hearts.

I have learned that this is home. That these kids are my babies. That I love them. I knew I would love my students and I knew I would love Africa, but I didn't think I would fall so hard in love with these kids. That it would hurt my chest to think about leaving them, that it would give me butterflies and an unavoidable smile every time I walk into school and they all come running. This is true love, and I'm so glad I found it.

I have learned that bravery has nothing to do with a lack of fear. I am scared on a daily basis. I was scared to come here, now I'm scared to leave, I am scared when I think of what the future may hold for my kids. But you don't have to be unafraid to be brave. Being brave means being afraid and going for it.
What are you scared of?
Go for it.
I have learned that I am
Braver than I believe.

"Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"

In September, My mom and I went to a party/barbecue/hangout-in-the-pool-day at her friends' house.
Because my Dad couldn't come, I got to sit at the grown-up table!
I am 22 years old, and I act like a kid on Christmas whenever I get to sit at the grown-up table, it's such a rarity. (My sister was at the party too, and I love her, but she doesn't count because she had to sit at the kids' table.)
So we're sitting at the grown-up table and they started asking me about my upcoming trip to Tanzania.
Oh my gosh, I just remembered there was Port Wine cheese at this party, AAH I LOVE Port Wine cheese!
Sorry, I'm hungry.
So we were talking about Africa, and then the grown-ups started making bets on whether or not I'd ever come home.
Mr. and Mrs. Mistretta said I would come home, but then come back to Africa.
Mr. Koch said I would come home, but it would be with an African baby.
Mr. Susich said I was never coming home.
Mrs. Koch, Mrs. Susich, and my mom said I was definitely coming home... or else.
And I just cried. You'll find I do that a lot.
(I think that was right, if I got your vote wrong, I'm sorry, it was 5 months ago.)

Listen guys, I'm definitely coming home. I want Chili's.
I think they were all right.
That's correct. I'm bringing a baby home.


Not really, but I wish. How thoroughly do you think they check your bags at customs?
I will be home in May, and I know it will be great. I miss my family, my friends, my dog, my boss and coworkers, my job, my clients, and FOOD.
But I know I will be back here.
My home will always be in New Jersey.
But they say home is where the heart is.
And these kids took their little hands, shoved them through my chest, took out my heart, and divided it amongst themselves.
I will never get it back.
And I'm okay with that.
This is home too.
I'm sitting here on our front stoop, writing this, listening to the crickets, the dogs barking, and the Maasai guys in our neighborhood doing their weird Maasai singing/yelling.
And it feels normal.
It feels like home.

Today, some friends and I took the kids from the Hope Orphan Center to Lake Duluti to go swimming.
It was so much fun!
The kids were scared of the water and I was swimming with multiple children hanging on my neck, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they were MY kids.
Some local guy was splashing them and grabbing their ankles and trying to scare them.
I was getting so angry.
At one point, I had a little boy on my back, and this rude guy tried to swim between my legs to scare us.
So what did I do?
Well being a crazy girl from New Jersey, naturally, I shut my knees together and squeezed the guy's head.
Before I realized it's a bad idea to squeeze a person's head underwater, I thought, "Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"
And then I let him go.
I just feel so protective of these kids. I have to take care of them, there's no choice.

They've been placed in my life.
They're mine.
Rosie is mine.
Angel is mine.
Over the past four months, my family has expanded immensely, along with my heart.
There are days when I'm ready to go home, when I just want to watch Lifetime movies with my mom, or go to the beach with my friends, or hang out with my dog (that's not weird), or even go to work.
But in reality, I do not know how I am going to be able to leave my babies.
I just have to hold on to hope that I will see them again.
I have less than six weeks left.
That's nothing.

So here's what we're gonna do.
I have like 60 kids that I'm bringing back with me.
So you guys need to mail me like 45 suitcases, and when I get to the airport, everybody grab a suitcase and run.
Go in different directions to throw the cops off the trail, and then we'll meet at Chili's at around 6:00.
Dinner's on you, cause I don't have money, and I got 60 mouths to feed.
Okay? Okay.
Sounds great, see ya then.

-Braver than I Believe.

Consider the lilies of the field...

As I sit here in my bed, home with a twisted ankle, listening to Taylor Swift, I cannot help but believe that things always work out.
The past few weeks have been some of the most trying weeks of my life.
I've been dealing with some insomnia, which just makes me so exhausted, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It's almost comical how much I've been crying.

I cry when I'm sad.
I cry when I'm tired.
I cry when I'm excited.
I cried when I took Rosie to the hospital. Many times.
I cried when I found out Rosie has malaria.
I cried when I came home and told everyone about my day at the hospital.
I cried when I had to wait for an hour at Western Union.
I cried when my friend told me the plot to the movie Simon Birch.
I cry every time I skype ANYONE. Seriously, if you don't want me to cry, don't skype me.
I cried when I talked to one of my favorite clients, Alyson, and she said nice things to me.
I cry every time someone says anything nice about me.
I cried when we were talking about getting proposed to at Disney World.
I cried when I went to pick Rosie up, and she was still sick.
I cried when I was reading the 1st Harry Potter this weekend, and Neville got awarded the 10 points that won Gryffindor the house cup, because I was just thinking that probably felt so great.
I cried when I didn't know how I would be able to pay Rosie's hospital bills.
I cried when an anonymous organization paid them for me.
I cried when $200 went missing from my suitcase.
I cried when one of my friends who was leaving, gave me money to help take Rosie to physio.
I cried this morning when I twisted my ankle on the way to school.
I am crying right now.

For the past few years, I've been a pretty big cry baby, but this is getting out of hand.
But hey, good news is coming!
In this difficult time, I am learning so much.
Every time something goes wrong, I feel like it is the end of the world.
But so far, nothing has been the end of the world yet.
The world is still in tact.
Things always work out.
On Sunday, I was talking to Rosie's school director telling him I did not know how I would be able to pay her hospital bills. He told me, "Katrinah, God will take care of you. You are doing a good thing for one of His children, He will take care of you." ...Two minutes later, Rosie's mom called and said that the people at the hospital had just told her that there was an organization paying for her hospital bills because she is disabled."
Things like this happen EVERY time something goes wrong.
It never stays wrong for long.
But still, I always get nervous when things go wrong.
Why? They ALWAYS turn out fine.
I am learning that I just need to trust that things will be okay.
I waste so much time worrying when something bad happens, and then all of a sudden, it's turned around, and I'm shocked every time. Like it's a surprise.
It's not a surprise. I am being taken care of. I need to trust that.
After almost 4 months in Africa, I am finally truly starting to realize I will never be forsaken.
I am not forgotten.
The birds of the air neither reap nor sow, the lilies of the field neither toil nor spin...
I'll be fine.
That's a beautiful epiphany.

I am a character in the Muppets Treasure Island.

Ooph, it has been some week so far, and it's only Wednesday. 

Dave Hasz, an old teacher of mine, whom I admire greatly, once said, "an optimist gets thrown into a barn full of horse manure, and starts looking for the horse." 

WHERE IS THIS FREAKIN HORSE?!?!

I am standing in a pile of manure right now searching for the dang horse. 

I have been stretched and tried so much in the last days, I feel like Gonzo in the Muppets Treasure Island, when they put him in the torture machine where they stretch him out and twist his body, except I didn't get tall and skinny afterward. 

I have been feeling really sick the past few weeks, and so fatigued. I find my mind racing all night, unable to sleep and then I am so exhausted all day. 

I finally went to the hospital today to figure out if anything is wrong. I had to have a bunch of tests done and have blood taken. The lab tech couldn't find veins on either of my arms (after some unsuccessful jabbing and poking unnecessarily with needles), so he had to take it out of my hand, which REALLY hurt.

As it turns out, nothing is really wrong with me, I just have a cough and cold from the kids, and I'm so fatigued because my immune system is having a really hard time keeping up with all my snot covered students. So I spent 45,000 Shillings and got brutally stabbed with needles to find out I just need to sleep more and drink more water.

On Monday, I took Rosie to the hospital to meet with the doctors from Germany. We left at 7am and I didn't get home until 5:30pm. It was a LONG day. After waiting around for hours and hours, she met with the doctors and they told her that surgery would not be necessary, they will be able to fix her legs with splints and casts, which is awesome! What is not awesome, is that she has malaria. She will be staying in the hospital until Friday, because her mom needs help taking care of her and administering the meds. Rosie puked on me twice. I love her, but I really wish she wouldn't vomit on me, it's gross. I had to deal with the Tanzanian doctor and pharmacist who didn't speak English and asked me to speak Kiswahili to them. Ummmm... I can bargain cab rides and teach numbers, letters, body parts, and days of the week, and hold a pretty decent conversation, but I know nothing about how to speak of medicine in Swahili. To top everything off, I don't really want to get into it, but I felt that Rosie's mother was trying to get a lot of money out of me (which I don't have) and trying to take advantage of me. Since I was a little kid, people have often tried to take advantage of me. It really upsets me, because I would give anything to anyone if I was able. I came home and sat down and just cried, because it was just such a long day and I was so emotionally drained.

Rosie had to get tested for malaria, which just requires them to take a little blood, but she was SCREAMING. That was so hard for me to watch. I am not her mother, but my heart was breaking. She was in so much pain, and I had to help inflict the pain on her, because it was for her own good. It gives me a whole new respect for my mom and all the other moms I know. You know your baby is in pain, and it's partially your fault, but you're doing it to help them. It hurt me so badly to see her hurting and not be able to do anything.

Okay, I'm done complaining. 

The point of this is that this has been a rough week.

But in the midst of all this manure, there is a horse.

I don't have any infectious diseases, it's just a side-effect of spending time with my awesome kids, which is completely worth it.

Rosie is in the care of awesome doctors, and she won't need surgery.

The horrible incident of the needle-poking-rosie-screaming resulted in her finding out she has malaria and being able to treat it.

Vomit washes off.

I am learning to be grateful in the midst of trials.

Adversity makes me stronger.

And maybe, like Gonzo, these trials will make me stand a little taller.

I am Braver than I Believe.

Rock everything you do.

I have a lot of best friends. 

It's a weird thing about me.

I don't have a million acquaintances.

When I become friends with a person, I give them my whole heart.

I have a lot of close, dear friends.

I was blessed with one of the most amazing bestfriends a person could wish for.

She was smart, funny, beautiful, sweet, compassionate, caring, kind, and a little cheeky.

My best friend meant the world to me.

I told her everything, and she did the same.

We laughed together, cried together, screamed together, and sang together.

We loved together and feared together.

We held hands when she told me the cancer came back.

When she went to Arizona for treatment, I gave her the teddy bear who now sits on my pillow next to my head in Africa.

A part of me died when she did.

And then, even after she was gone, she told me that was stupid. She told me I wasn't allowed to be dead.

So I came back to life.

With a vengeance.

Caiti knew that my heart had Africa written all over it. And she loved that.

We talked about the incredible things we would do. How we would one day change the world.

I am an idealist. I make crazy plans to make the world a better place. It's unrealistic.

Caiti loved that.

She loved my crazy ideas about coming to Africa and doing something about the things I don't like in the world.

I wish I could see her face when she saw that I was actually doing it.

Caiti once told me, "Rock everything you do."

Caiti shared so much with me.

Her life, her feelings, her thoughts, her lunch, and even her family.

That was the greatest gift she ever gave me.

I am still so close with her family. 

Her siblings and parents are some of the greatest people you could ever meet.

Her mother, Michelle, has been one of my greatest supporters in this journey to Africa.

Her siblings make me laugh more than most people in the world.

Today, I got a package.

I was expecting a package.

A group of people from my church put together a package for me and my students.

I was expecting that.

What I was not expecting, was the second package.

A brown box with a return address that said "The Brown Family"

I started crying right there in the post office.

Just because I was surprised, and blindsided by the kindness of friends.

The box had all of the delicious snacks I could possibly want.

Cookies, candy, popcorn, Kraft Dinner, a note, and a picture.

A picture of my bestfriend, Caiti, with the inscription:

"She would be so proud of you."

Sitting on my bed, holding a box of macaroni and a package of gummy worms, I cried.

And it wasn't tears of sadness.

It was tears of gratefulness.

Tears of truth.

It was something I needed to hear.

Caiti was the biggest advocate for people living out their dreams.

For people trying to conquer the world.

She would love this.

Even being gone from my life, Caiti continuously inspires me to be the best me that I can.

Sometimes I need some encouragement.

I need to know that what I'm doing means something.

Because you guys hear the good stories, the incredible things.

I don't tend to blog about the week straight I stay home because I got a bacterial infection, or the days when my students have tantrums and punch me.

I don't tend to blog about the days when kids pee on me, or the days when no matter what I do, I feel like I can't get through to my students and I feel like I'm teaching nothing. The week where I'm dealing with insomnia and literally stay up all night, not being able to sleep, thinking about the plight of the my students and how I don't think I can actually make any difference and start to hyperventilate because I am nobody.

"She would be so proud of you."

She would.

Because she understood something that I tend to forget.

The big moments are awesome, but the big moments don't matter alone.

You can have ten big moments and a hundred thousand little moments.

A hundred thousand moments of peeing kids or frustrating classes.

But without those, you only had ten moments.

Ten moments is nothing.

I have less than two months left.

And I want to fill those two months with moments, big and small.

And I want to rock every single moment.

Because they matter.

She knew that.

She rocked every moment.

Miss you Caiti, thanks for teaching me how to rock.

"Impossible" just means it will be more exciting when it happens.

It was a little over a month ago, that my good friend, Katherine, asked me to go check out a rehabilitation center with her.

Katherine has been to Tanzania twice and will soon be returning for a third time. She volunteers at a school called Hillcrest (shown above). Katherine is now back home in North Carolina. She is currently working on building a school for the Hillcrest kids and has inspired me many times over with the devotion that she has for these children.

So anyway, about a month ago, Katherine asked me to come check out a rehab center for one of her students, Rosie, who has Spina Bifida and club foot. I said I would come with her and check it out.

We went to the Usa River Rehabilitation and Vocational Training Centre. It's a magical place where they serve up massive helpings of HOPE! They said that they offered free physiotherapy for kids. Katherine was about to go home, so she couldn't take Rosie, so I said I would bring her every week. Before that, I had only met Rosie once or twice, and I knew that I didn't have the money to pay for cabs to Usa every week (it's really far) but I just knew that I was supposed to step up in this situation.

I've been taking Rosie to physio once a week, with the help of my friend/angel, Sharla. Sharla is a nurse from Canada, who is currently volunteering as a teacher at Rosie's school. Sharla comes to physio with us every week and then implements the exercises at school when possible. Sharla has also been helping me pay for the trips to the rehab center. She's incredible. When I said that I would take Rosie, I did not know how I would possibly manage. Like I said, the physio is free, but the cab ride to Usa every week is quite pricey. I don't know why I EVER doubt. Ever. Things always work out. I am so glad that Sharla was sent to me and that I have her to love and lean on through this process, because it is not always easy to go through rehab with a five year old. 

Last week, an expert physiotherapist came out from Germany to work with the patients here. She assessed Rosie and said that it will possible for her to walk one day! It will not be an easy road to get there, and even if she does walk, she will need crutches, but she can WALK! From the beginning, we were told she wouldn't walk, she could learn to be independent, but would never walk. I did not want to believe that. Towards the beginning of my time with Rosie, I was talking to my friend Terence, and he asked me what I wanted to come out of this situation. I said, "I want to see Rosie walk." He asked if that was even possible. I said "No, but I want it to happen anyway."  In order for her to walk, she will need a surgery to straighten her legs and LOTS and lots of intense physiotherapy. There is a group of orthopedic surgeons from Germany coming next month to do free surgeries. The doctor said that their Operating Room schedule is full and its not likely for them to be able to fit Rosie in, but its possible.

In my opinion, "not likely, but possible" means "definitely going to happen". Yesterday, they casted both of Rosie's legs, just in case they are able to fit her in for a surgery. They doctor asked us to distract her while they casted her legs so she wouldn't be scared, so that's why there are stickers all over her face. Because I believe that a reasonable way to distract people is to put things on their faces. 

This girl is incredible. She is five. FIVE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! She has faced so many trials and tribulations in her five short years, but is already beating them and coming through strong on the other side. She's amazing, sometimes I look at her and have trouble breathing because I just feel so excited for her future. This girl is going to do incredible things in her life, I promise you. Just wait and see.

Rosie is stronger than she seems,

and Braver than she believes.

There is BIG news in this one. And I mean GINORMOUS.

Warning: I've been having a really difficult time deciding what to blog about, so this post will most likely be scatter-brained, disorganized, and probably neither particularly funny or heart-wrenching. Get over it, it's allowed.

Well, I did switch to a new school a few weeks ago. It's a special needs school and I love it. It's extremely difficult some of the time. Most of my students either have Down Syndrome or Autism. It's a whole different type of teaching, which includes a lot of "play-learning". I spend a lot of time playing catch with the kids and helping them write numbers and letters. Sometimes, they'll bite me or hit me or eachother. Sometimes the kids have episodes and I simply don't know the best way to help them, because I was never trained. But I'm so in love with them. In the past few weeks these kids have taught me so much about love and laughter. Oh, the laughter! I have one student named Husna who literally does not know how to stop laughing. We'll be tracing numbers, or playing with blocks, or singing our ABC's, or I'll be putting her shoes on, and she'll just look at me and CRACK UP. The first few times she did this, I just looked at her funny, but it's become contagious. She'll laugh and all of a sudden, I'm on the floor in stitches fighting for breath because I can't stop laughing. My kids know how to laugh SO WELL. Yesterday, one of my girls, named Salbaha, got in my lap, put her head on my shoulder and went right to sleep. I let her stay there for a good half hour. How does a person steal your whole heart so quickly without your knowledge? I feel like my heart has stretched more than the Grinch's. I don't know how all of the love that I feel can physically fit inside my body.

On Fridays, I'm still at Cheti with my original kids, who I'm obsessed with! Angel's there, and I am telling you that little girl has me wrapped around her little, perfect finger. They still need sponsors, so anyone interested, please contact me. You can message me on Facebook or email me at katrinahkathryn@gmail.com

Once a week, I take a little girl named Rosie to physiotherapy. She has Spina Bifida and is wheelchair bound. I don't know what results will come out of this. They can teach her how to work with her body. Build her arm strength, help her learn how to use her chair on her own, but I wish there was more. Tomorrow, we're meeting with a specialist who's coming over from Germany and doing a consultation with her for free. In March, there will be a team of German surgeons doing free surgeries, and they're schedule is full, but we're hoping and praying that they would be able to fit Rosie in. She is an unbelievable kid. When I first met her, she was pretty reserved and kept to herself, which is not surprising from a five year old stuck in a wheel chair who can't get out and play with the kids. Now, she does not stop smiling, she is excited at school, when she smiles, her entire face lights up like the morning sky. She is so precious, and her life is so precious, and I want to help her make the most of it.

It's strange living in a house with thirty people, I love it! There's so much community, there's always someone to talk to, someone to turn to, someone to laugh or cry with (I do plenty of both). Every two weeks, a new orientation group gets here. The people in these groups stay anywhere from 1 week to 6 months. It's great to get to meet new people all the time, but on the other hand, people are always leaving. When you live with someone in such a different place, like Africa, you form bonds with them. You love them, even if they're only around for a month. Because they're more than just a friend or coworker, you literally live with them. You wake up to their ugly mug, spend all day with them, and fall asleep to their whispers and laughter. You love them, you can't help it. I've probably said goodbye to at least thirty people since I've been here, I've stopped keeping track. Over the next few weeks, most of my closest friends will be heading back home. I do not know how I am going to handle that.

I've got eleven weeks left. I'm halfway through. Part of me is so ready to jump on a plane, hug my dog, and go get some enchilada soup from Chili's. Part of me, is ready to tie myself to the fence and sing "we shall not be moved". All of me wants to leave all my clothes and stuff behind and fill my suitcases with children, but apparently that's like frowned upon or something.

I've been doing a lot of self reflection lately. I was hoping that being here would open up my eyes to what I want in life, and in some ways it has, but in more ways, I've learned more about myself as I am right now. I've learned that I need to be more decisive. I'm usually cool with just letting others make decisions and going along with them. I know that I possess leadership capabilities, but for some reason, I'm usually content with just following others. I am so not going to change the world that way, and why would I waste my time on this Earth, if I'm not going to leave it a little bit better than when I got here.

There has been one major change in my life. And I mean MAJOR.
If you don't know me very well, this change will seem like nothing, but if you know me well, you may have a heart attack.

I,
Katrinah,
am. not. afraid. of. bugs.

I am not afraid of bugs.

Well, actually, I'm still afraid of bugs.

But now I just sit silently in my fear rather than SCREAMING AND CRYING.

This is a big deal, people. I'm an entomophobe. We're talking literal tears when there are bugs. I've almost crashed the car when there's been a spider on my windshield. Like its super weird how scared I am. The people close to me know that they are not even allowed to utter the word cockroach. I still don't like to even type it, it's taking everything within me not to backspace and delete that word. But I see them EVERYDAY. And do you know what I do? I flick them away, and try not let anyone know that I'm hyperventilating inside. I think it just takes getting out of your comfort zone to realize what's important and what's not.

So there's nothing huge going on around here, just my normal, everyday activities. But I love the changes I see in myself. I am learning more patience, I'm getting emotionally stronger, and I am becoming
Braver than I believe.

Help me, I'm poor.

I do not know where to start.
Yesterday, I walked into Cheti with the intention of it being my last day.
I was sad to leave, but I had made my peace.
The kids have their sponsors taking care of them, they're fine, right?
When I told the director, Zuma, that I was switching schools, he was sad, but said he understood.
Then he told me that every single student was dropped from the sponsorship program.
There was a contractual issue and over 80 kids lost their sponsorship.
WHAT?
How does this even happen?
I look to my left- there's a rock.
Turn to the right- oh look, a hard place!
And there's me, in between.

So what's the first thing I do?
I sponsor one.
Guess which one.
That's right, it was Angel, good guess!

Oh my gosh, look at that smile!



So what's the second thing I do?
I start asking questions.
I start calculating.
I start making plans.
I start crying.

I can't sponsor 80 kids.
So I start planning.
I can start a non-profit group and travel around to concerts and music fests at home to get sponsors for the kids.
It's expensive to start a non-profit, you have to pay for a lawyer, and all kinds of paperwork and stuff.
Okay, so I'll make paintings and sell those to pay for a lawyer. I can make bracelets, save all my tips at work.
80 kids.
I'll get the word out on facebook and twitter and pinterest.
80 kids.
I'll be relentless and pushy.
80 kids.
I'll talk to everyone I know about it.
80 kids.
I'll go to churches and schools and businesses.
80 kids.
I'll get them sponsored.
80 kids.
I'll vomit.
I'll just vomit.

Now that I'm done vomiting, I'm thinking with a clear head.
I'm going to spend part of my week at Cheti, and part at my new school, Nellito.
I'm going to get as many kids sponsored as I can while I'm here.
And when I get home, I'm starting a non-profit to get sponsors for the kids.
Still trying to come up with a name and everything.
I'm thinking Upendo le Watoto. (love the children)
I know that it will not be easy.
But whatever happens, it will work out.
Because I am not alone.
I am so blessed.
I have a very present Help in times of need.
Plus incredible friends and family.
I call out for help, and fifty people run to my side by spreading the word about the kids, offering to sponsor one, giving me moral support, or mailing me Ramen noodles!


So this is the part where I ask you to sponsor a kid.
It would cost either $15 or $30 per month depending on whether the child is in pre-school (up to second grade) or primary school (after second grade)
For $15 a month, you can give Salma a chance in life.

(and maybe she'll give me back my glasses)

 

We see those commercials on TV with the naked, crying kids and the sad song playing and the old man asking you for 35 cents a day.

I am not an old man and these kids are not naked and crying.

But I am asking you to help them.
These kids are happy, joyful, often loud little monsters who, at this point, have no idea that they could be dropped from school soon, because Zuma and I are trying to figure out how to keep that from happening.
These are MY kids.
They have been placed in my path, and I'm responsible for helping them.
Please, help me do that.
Even just by sharing this blog, on facebook, twitter, and pinterest.

At this point, I just need to collect money, and start paying the kid's school fees, and once I start the non-profit, I can begin an actual sponsorship program.

But if you do want to sponsor someone, we can start now! I can send you their picture and story, and give you updates on how they are doing.

This project is just a baby right now, but I know that it will be a success, because these kids deserve it.

Thanks for reading, and thanks in advance for sharing.
The kids say thanks too!
Asante sana!

The only time you can actually be brave, is when you're afraid.

Wow.
I have a big decision to make.
Actually, I'm pretty sure I've already decided, I  just have to see how long it takes me to admit it to myself.
The school that I'm teaching at is called CHETI. It is an awesome school. The director is an incredible man named Zuma. He loves the kids so much and cares about the school as if all the students were his own kids.
CHETI is pretty well-off compared to a lot of schools here. The kids in my class might share 2 erasers between them all, but that's 2 more erasers than a lot of other schools have.
Most of my kids come from very poor families, but they have sponsors. They are being taken care of.

Today, I went to visit a school that is more of a day-orphanage.
Most of the kids are living with a family member or family-friend after their parents died.
The person they are living with cannot afford to send them to school or give them an education.
The classroom I was in was a class of three and four year-olds.
They had no teacher.
Someone had written numbers on the board and then left the kids in the room to copy them down.
They are three and four.
I don't know a single four year old who would sit in a classroom and just copy numbers from a blackboard with no teacher in the room.
The kids were peeing on themselves, peeing on the floor outside the classroom, hitting each other, and crying.
My cousin, Jamie, has a daughter who is four.
I kept seeing her when I looked at these kids.
Alone in a classroom with no one actually looking after her or taking care of her.
I would never let that happen to my little LuLu.
So how can I let it happen to these kids who DON'T have someone watching out for them?

I look at my students at CHETI and I just think, "I love them so much. I love them, I love them, I love them!"
But I looked at these children today and I thought, "I can help them. I think."

It will be a challenge. But I think I can make a difference.
If I decide to switch schools, I will miss my students so much. Especially little Angel.
But I know that Angel and her classmates will be okay.
Their sponsors will take care of them, they'll make it to secondary school and probably university.

But what about these kids I spent the day with today?
No one will even take them to the bathroom.
Who's going to help them learn and function in life?
Me?
I don't know.

I still have to think about it.
I will cry saying goodbye to my students and my heart will break leaving CHETI.
But I think this may be what I have to do.
Pray for me, send your thoughts my way, because I'm scared.

This is one of those situations where I have to really remind myself that I am
Braver than I Believe.

I'm usually really happy, but some days, I stay in bed and eat and cry.

So I haven't blogged in a while.
There's just a lot going on, and I can't organize my thoughts into words, so I had some friends from home ask me questions and I'm gonna answer them!
Here we go...

Question 1: Are you okay?
Answer: Yes! I am okay! Sometimes it's rough, I don't always know how to handle my kids, sometimes I miss home, sometimes I feel like I'm not doing anything worthwhile, but ALL the time, I am glad to be here and have the opportunity to serve and love and meet the incredible people I work with!

Question 2: What is the weather and food like?
Answer: Weather is beautiful most days! Here in Arusha, it's not too hot, usually around 80ish degrees during the day. It does rain a lot but its usually quick, and gets warm again right after. Food: pretty good! Every day at  school I eat Chapati and avocado for lunch. If you know me, you know that avocado is my favorite thing that exists! Chapati is like a thick tortilla kind of thing made from flour and oil. We eat a lot of chapati. We also eat a lot of rice and mango.

Question 3: Can you get a good pizza over there?
Answer: NO! Being from New Jersey, I am of the belief that you cannot get a good pizza anywhere outside of the tri-state area. I have had a few pizzas here, and nothing has measured up, but sometimes you just want some familiarity so you order a cardboardy, ketchupy pizza anyway.

Question 4: What has been the most challenging part of being there?
Answer: Hmmm good question. I think the most challenging part would be working in the midst of the Tanzanian education system and not being able to change the core of anything. I can try to implement my own teaching methods with my students. But its difficult to break through the walls that have been built up by their previous teachers and I know that even if I get through to my students, as soon as I leave, some other teacher will swoop right back in and build the walls back up unintentionally, because that's the only way they know how to teach.

Question 5: What is the most awesome thing you like about Tanzania?
Answer: The diversity throughout the country! You can climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, go on Safari and see all these incredible animals, be in a big city like Arusha with lots of hustle and bustle, go to Zanzibar and feel like you are literally in an island paradise, be in Maasai land which is beautiful but is a whole lotta donkeys, rocks, and mud huts. You can see incredible wealth and extreme poverty right next to each other.

Question 6: What is a typical day like?
Answer: Well I wake up at 6:30 and leave at 7:00, and by that I mean my alarm goes off at 6:30 and I hit snooze until 7:30 and leave at 8:00 and usually wind up late. I take the "bus" into town and walk to the village that my school is in, it's about an hour commute. I teach for about 6 hours. Teaching can entail actual teaching, like teaching how to count and read letters, or it can entail singing songs about mangoes and giraffes (that's my favorite). Then my kids walk me to the bus stop and I have to literally pry them off of me so I can get on the bus. I come back to the house exhausted and go to boxing class, and by that I mean I never actually do go to boxing class, but I always mean to. We usually hang out all afternoon and then eat dinner here at the house. We watch a lot of movies. It's not very glamorous, I don't ride a giraffe to school or wrestle lions for dinner. But I've got students that I cherish and roommates that I have grown to love with all my heart and care for as brothers and sisters. :) On the weekends, we try to do cool things sometimes, but I'm on a pretty limited budget as I spent most of my money on going to Zanzibar (not that I'm complaining, it was so worth it.)

Question 7: What's the best thing so far?

Answer: This is the best thing so far. I love my students! This is Angel. The moment I met her, I loved her. I walked in my classroom on the very first day and saw a little girl dancing by herself in the corner. When she saw me she ran up to me, jumped into my arms, and said "I love you teacha." There were no conditions, she didn't know me, I never gave her anything. It was that simple, she saw me, she loved me. I smiled at her and said "I love you too." I had no choice. She loved me, I loved her back. I asked her name and she said "Angel." She was speaking more truth than she could know. My little Angel.  Don't be surprised if she's standing next to me when I get off the plane at home.

Question 8: What's the worst thing so far?
Answer: The end of my trip to Zanzibar. The first few days were INCREDIBLE! Its a gorgeous island with so much to see and I was so happy to be back at the beach where I belong, and then I fell pretty ill. It was about a hundred degrees and I was in bed freezing and shaking and sweating and coughing and begging for my mommy. Finally, it's time to leave and I am so ready to be back in my bed in Arusha, still feeling a bit sick, but much better than I had been. We took the ferry from Zanzibar to Dar Es Salaam. Let me just say that I love boats. I am usually the first one to suggest going for a boat ride, I love to sail on my friends' boats at home, but this boat was literally sent from Hell. It was three hours of wanting to die. I usually don't get seasick, but as I said, this boat was from the devil. For three hours, I vomited into plastic bags while still suffering from the flu. I could not tell if the water dripping from my face was caused by sweating or crying. Every few minutes, between pukes, I would turn to my friend Megan and say "I wanna go home." That's been the only time I've been legitimately serious about getting on a plane and going back to the states. But, eventually, it was over, and I was back in my nice bed in Arusha.

Question 9: Have you been taking your malaria pills?
Answer: Yes! Geeze, calm down!

Question 10: How much do you miss me?! (submitted by my best friend Kara)
Answer: SO MUCH! But that answer applies to all my friends and family. I was so surprised by how fiercely I miss my people. I've been away for long periods of time, but I think the difference is that I've always been able to text and talk on the phone much more conveniently. It's like in the movie 'The Invention of Lying' when Jennifer Garner says "I'm usually really happy, but some days I just lay in bed and eat and cry." I am so happy to be here, but I miss my loved ones dearly.

So I hope that gave you a little peek into what my life is like, if you have any more questions, ask away! much love