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.