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.

Welcome Home

I am in Africa!
It's been 5 days, but it feels like 5 years and 5 minutes all at the same time.
I already have so many stories to share, I don't even know how to organize my thoughts.
I arrived on Friday night, and walked off the plane into the warm African breeze.
I was a little panicky that no one would be there to pick me up and I would be all alone in Africa, but someone was there to greet me when I walked out of customs.
She smiled at me and said, "welcome home."
Welcome home.
It's a weird place to call home. But I love it.
Driving to the house from the airport with the moon shining over a shadowy outline of Mt. Meru, I breathed deeply for the first time in days. I had been freaking out about leaving, but now I was here.
I inhaled the smell of Africa.
It smells like dirt.
But I don't say that in a bad way. Dirt is earth. Dirt is real.
Dirt has become my life.
It is embedded in my fingernails, permanently clung to my feet, and settled in my nose and throat.
I love the nature in Tanzania.
I wake up in the morning and can see Mt. Meru in the distance standing tall and proud.
The sky is bluer and the stars are brighter.
But I work in the city.
An African city is nothing like Philly or New York.
I walk out of our little neighborhood and get on a Dalla Dalla.
A Dalla Dalla is like a fifteen passenger van that functions as a bus mixed with a taxi mixed with a mechanical bull.
It is the craziest mode of transportation I've ever experienced.
You could be sitting in the dalla with an African man half-way on your lap, and a woman sitting next to you holding a basket of chickens.
I get off the dalla at a stop called Kona, which after a few days I realized is corner.
I walk about ten minutes and get on a different dalla to swahilini, where I walk a few blocks to get to my school.
I am greeted by an incredible chorus of  "teacha teacha teacha! Mambo Teacha!" And a hundred little brown hands reach out for a high five.
We walk from the main building to C-2 which is about a block away. I can't walk very quickly for fear of tripping over one of the ten or fifteen kids who are gripping one of my appendages and fighting over who gets to hold my hand.
I love them. I love their bald heads, and their lack of any kind of hygiene and their lack of any kind of personal space, and their lack of knowledge of socially acceptable behavior. And their abundance of love, and their tendency to start singing and dancing out of nowhere, and their patience with me as I try to teach them things I don't even know myself. I love how easily they accepted me. I love that they love me. I love them through and through.
I am exhausted and there are a million things I could write about Africa already, but its all just floating around in my head. I'll try to write a post every few days, so that you can experience this with me.
But for now, know that I am here, and although it is difficult, I am so happy.
Through and through.

Show me the way to go home.

As I sit here writing this, I am so sad.
My heart is in physical pain.
On Friday morning, I got a call from a dear friend telling me her cousin had died.
Dory and I were best friends from the beginning of high school. That's how I met her cousin Aidan. I think Aidan was barely two when I met him, and even then, he was smarter than I'll ever hope to be.
Aidan loved to sing, and dance, and show off how cool he was.
From the beginning of our friendship, I was close with Dory's family. Her parents were like my second parents and her cousins were my cousins.
In the summer, Dory would babysit Aidan and his little brother Declan, and I would go over there all the time. Aidan loved playing pirates and pretending we were characters from Harry Potter or Star Wars. The kid had an incredible imagination. He knew every word to every Disney song (and a lot of Bruce Springsteen songs) and basically had the entire Jaws movie memorized. As a toddler he would walk around singing "show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I wanna go to bed..." This boy truly lit up the lives of every person in his path.
He was nine years old when he passed.
Nine years old.
That's single digits.
I'm just having a really hard time making sense of this.
Today, I attended a funeral for a nine year old boy. That shouldn't happen.
I hugged a mother and father who had to bury their baby. That shouldn't happen.
Yesterday, I played "balloon fight" with a little boy who just became an only child. That should. not. happen.
My heart is broken. That's the only feeling I can define right now.
This does not make sense.
On Saturday, I talked to my friend Shyanne on the phone, and I was crying and telling her that I didn't get it and desperately asking her to explain it to me, to make sense of it for me.
And she couldn't.
But she did say something that stuck with me.
She said "Katrinah, I don't know why this stuff happens, and I don't know how to make it better, but I do know part of the reason why death sucks so much. Because we were not made to die! We were made to live! We were made to be eternal beings.And I know that you're sad and I can't explain it, but Aidan is in Heaven, and he is fine."
I believe that. He is. And I wish it didn't happen like this, because I wish we had more time with this amazing kid, but right now I just know that he is okay, and all I can do is pray for peace, because I really believe that if you seek, you WILL find.

When Aidan was little, Dory's mom would drive us home from school and she would bring Aidan with her. Without fail, every time I would get out of the car, Aidan would sob. To get him to stop crying, I would hug him and say "Don't cry Aidan, I'll see you again, I promise."
"Don't cry I'll see you again, I promise."
I feel like he's the one saying that to me now.


Rest in peace, Aidan, I miss you already <3

summer turns to Autmun in disguise

It's happening.
The beach is becoming less crowded.
We're seeing less New York license plates on the Garden State Parkway.
School buses are causing traffic every morning.
Pinterest is exploding with recipes for pumpkin-chai everything.
The sun is going to sleep earlier and earlier.
The sweaters are making a comeback and the flippy floppies are hibernating.
And I'm calling doctors looking for a yellow fever shot.

I'm leaving for Tanzania in 2 months and 3 days.
My bank account is draining and my heart is filling up.
I am so excited, and I also may have a heart attack.
This is the strangest fall of my life. (except maybe the one fall I was living in Texas and the leaves didn't change color. That was stupid, leaves are supposed to change color.)
This is the first fall of my life that I'm not in some kind of school. I'm not getting ready for midterms or shopping for Christmas gifts. I'm buying plane tickets and travel insurance and making paintings and scarves to try to sell to raise money for my trip. And I couldn't be happier.
I can't wait to meet my new friends. I am going to be sharing a living space with strangers from across the planet. I am going to spend my mornings walking along dirt roads to go and teach kids so that they can have some kind of a future.
I am so lucky.
I am so blessed.
Those are both the right word. Not everyone gets a chance to do something like this.
I will get to be a part of something that is way bigger than myself. Way bigger than me.
AAAahhhhh!
I'm a creature of habit. I don't love change, and I don't relish the thought of being away on Christmas. I love tradition.
But this is way bigger than tradition.
This is cooler than pumpkin spice lattes and gingerbread cookies.
Although I do love me some gingerbread cookies.

Fall is the Earth's metaphor for change. Everything changes during the fall. That's what I love about fall. And as we bust out our boots and scarves, let's think of these kids who's lives have been a constant: poverty, joblessness, hopeless, and often parentless.
And let's get excited for change!
I'm not trying to bum you out, I'm saying I get to be a part of  change! A part of giving them an education so they have hope for a future, regardless of their past.
I'm nervous about the change that will occur in my life.
But I know that I am
Braver than I believe.

And in that moment, I swear, we were infinite.

The summer before I began highschool, I received homework in the mail. I was to choose two books off of a reading list, read them, and write two seperate book reports. The first book I chose was "To Kill a Mockingbird". I liked it. The second book I chose was "Watership Down". My mom had recommended it, she said it was a really good book.
She was wrong.
That book sucked.
 I didn't finish.
 If you've never read it, it's basically just a bunch of talking bunny rabbits being ruled by a tyrranical dictator bunny. I mean, I never made it past page 20, but that's basically the whole book.
So there I was, about a week before I started school, and I still needed to read a book. I read through the list again, and a title caught my eye.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Charlie stole my heart.
This book is an excellent story, and I won't give you a summary, because I've already ranted for ten minutes, and this post isn't even actually about books at all.
But the main character of The Perks of Being a Wallflower is this boy Charlie.
I like how Charlie thinks.
He talks a few times about feeling infinite. He talks a lot about remembering things and wishing he knew then how happy he really was. One of my favorite parts of the book is this:
       "When we hit the tunnel, all the sound got scooped up into a vacuum, and it was replaced by a song on the tape player. A beautiful song called "Landslide." When we got out of the tunnel, Sam screamed this really fun scream, and there it was. Downtown. Lights and buildings and everything that makes you wonder. Sam sat down and started laughing. Patrick started laughing. I started laughing. And in that moment, I swear, we were infinite. Love always, Charlie."

And in that moment, I swear, we were infinite.
I swear.
We were infinite.
Infinite.
To have no beginning, and no end.
To go on forever.
Forever and ever.

Two nights ago, my friends and I went fishing on the beach.
We had a campfire, fished in the ocean, sat around in a circle, got in an-inyourface-screaming-match over whether or not Pocahontas is an actual princess (she is.) we laughed together, talked about the future, ran from the waves, watched the jellyfish glow in the dark, screamed when Kara caught a fish (which was actually just another one of our fishing poles) and jumped up from our seats every time the cops patrolled the beach.
And I swear, we were infinite.

Everything on Earth is finite. It starts and it ends.
Moments are finite.
They begin and they end.
But within a moment, is infinity.

Sitting on the beach with my friends I felt infinite.
We're all a little infinite.
I believe that.
We're all gonna die one day.
But in a way, we will always exist. Our bodies will cease, but our souls, our spirits, will still exist.
I believe that.
This summer is not infinite.
My friends will go back to college and I will be sad and lonely.
But these brief moments in which our hearts are full.
These moments where we feel, just for a second, nothing is wrong.
We are safe inside these moments.
And these moments are infinite.
And inside these moments, we are braver than we believe.

I'm so excited. (I'm so scared.)

I have regrets.
I'm twenty-two years old, and I already have a pile of regrets as tall as Shaquille O'Neal.
Aren't you suppsed to be forty years old with four kids and an ugly husband before you start regretting things?
no.
I think about how many decisions I make on a daily basis. Approximately a million.
We make decisions, we make mistakes, and that's how we wind up with regrets.
I have done a lot of things in my life worth regretting. A lot.
But those aren't the things I regret.
I don't regret DOING anything. It's the things I did NOT do that I regret.
There are things I've done and said that I would like to erase if I could, but not to the point of holding onto regret over it. I've made mistakes and learned from them and forgiven myself.
It's the things I plumb ignored and just straight up didn't do that I regret.
I regret not doing the World Race.
I regret not taking so many of the wonderful opportunities that have been placed in my path.
I talk myself out of things, I let fear, and doubt, and the need for security obstruct the passion I have for adventure. I say "it's just not realistic for me to pack up and move, or spend a year traveling the world and helping people, the money won't come, I'm too young, too dumb, too fat, too inexperienced, too scared, too BLAH BLAH BLAH DEE FREAKIN BLAH!"
SHUTUP KATRINAH.
I have Someone so capable on my side.
I am able.
When I was six years old, my mom said I need to finish my dinner, because there are starving children in Africa. I said "they can have my dinner! We gotta go bring it to them!" and I wasn't being snotty, I meant it. It was then that I decided that one day, I would go to Africa and feed kids and take care of them. I went to Kenya two years ago, and I've since had a few opportunities to return to my favorite continent, and haven't taken those opportunities because of fear, doubt, and uncertainty.
I regret that.
I refuse to regret anymore.
I am twenty two. I'm young. I'm capable. I am not tied down to anyone or anything here.
Byeeeeeee.
I am currently in the process of planning to relocate to Tanzania for a few months.
My heart pounds with excitement at the thought of it.
My heart pounds with fear at the thought of it.
I have so many reasons to stay.
I'll miss my friends.
Its expensive.
I have to help plan my best friend's wedding (loveyougirllll)
What will I do when I get back?
What if my dog dies while I'm gone?
What if one of my friends has a baby? or gets married?
What if Santa Clause doesn't know where I am?
What if I miss the Zombie apocalypse? (cause you know that's only happening in the US)
I refuse to live with regret.
I have this opportunity. I'm taking it.
That's it, that's all, the end, goodbye, finish your dinner.
I am afraid, but I refuse to let that stop me.
Because ya know what?
I am braver than I believe.
I am smarter than I think.
And I am stronger than I seem.

Well yeah, Juliet died. But at least she had a boyfriend.

I feel like love, marriage, and relationships are a huge theme in my life right now.
For everyone but me.
EVERYONE is getting married.
EVERYBODY!!!
Except Katrinah.
I feel like every single week another friend of mine is getting married or engaged.
A few weeks ago, four of my friends all got married on the SAME day.
To be honest, I'm jealous.
But why?
What reason do I have?
I don't even want to be married right now, I'm still a kid.
Its just that I see all these people in love and I'm like "me too!"
And I think maybe that has something with how we're conditioned to think.

I read Romeo and Juliet in 9th grade.
I remember wishing I had what they had.
I was jealous of Juliet.
All the girls in my class were.
She had Romeo, and he was good-looking, and she had a pretty dress.
And they ran away together and got married in the woods in the middle of the night.
AND THEN THEY DIED.
When we talk about love, we almost always mention Romeo and Juliet.
But that's dumb.
I don't want their relationship.
Their relationship sucked.
Romeo and Juliet didn't even KNOW EACH OTHER.
Twenty minutes ago, Romeo was into another girl.
That should have been Juliet's first red flag. Who wants to be Romeo's sloppy seconds?
Out of nowhere, he's at the girl's window telling her he's madly in love with her.
...creepy...
Some boy shows up at my window and tells me that I am "the sun"...
I would start throwing shoes at him and tell him to get off my property!
But she didn't. Jules just took her heart and placed it right in his hand.
And we all know how it ended.
With a bunch of sneaking around, and a few rash decisions, they both died.
Like, Dude- You're like SIXTEEN.
It's just crazy. We tell this story like its a fairytale.
It's in the title: the TRAGEDY of Romeo and Juliette.
But as little girls we want to be like Juliet.
dumb.
To be honest with you, I love Jules.
She's one of my favorite story characters.
I can  criticize her decisions all day long, but I get it.
I can't say that there wasn't a point in my life where I would have made the same choices.
She was in love.
She was so lost in the romance that she lost all reason.
She followed Romeo anywhere because she thought they would get a happy ending.
But she didn't. And I feel like that's what happens to most of us.
We give in to these romantic delusions, and find ourselves getting hurt.

Why I say all this, is because I think we need to stop trying to be like Juliet.
We can be ourselves. Write our own stories.
If we can't be happy alone, we will never be happy in a relationship.
Plain and simple.
Romeo can't keep us from getting hurt.

I do want to get married one day.
But not if I can't be happy by myself.
friends: don't sit around waiting for your prince charming.
A man who rides around on a horse just looking for a wife, is not the hero you want.
Live your life.
Go out into the world and expeience things.
Take risks, make mistakes, have adventures.
And maybe while you're having an adventure, he'll be having one with you.
And maybe not. Maybe you will do amazing things on your own, and that is great.
But whatever you do, be yourself, love yourself.
Because you are smarter than you think.
You're stronger than you seem.
And Braver than you believe.