Tag Archives: kigoma

My Choice

Posted on by
1

I didn’t know it then, but when I arrived in Tanzania a few weeks ago, I made a choice. Had I known how that choice would affect me upon my return, there are moments when I think I would have chosen differently.

I chose to immerse myself completely into the experience. I willingly opened my heart and mind to everyone I met and invited them in. I chose to get down on my knees so I could be closer to the children. I chose to play and get dirty with them. I held their hands and I picked up the little ones. I gave hugs when it was welcomed and tried to make them smile and laugh. I showed them pictures of themselves on my camera. I learned a few Swahili words which were never enough to really express how I felt. But enough to assure them that I would be back the next day. I fell in love with the people that spend their lives teaching and caring for these children every day. By comparison, my six days seem so insignificant. Each day, I laughed for the small successes and connections made with children who have huge challenges. Children who are deaf, blind, have albinism, and those who were abandoned. And each day, I cried.

The back way

More normal

Each day I made small routine changes to cushion the impact of my choice. I avoided using the compound’s main entrance. Instead I used the back entrance, which connected the compound to the children’s school. It was the longer way, and I walked under a canopy of trees. Going the back way made the compound feel less like a concentration camp and more… normal. I stopped going into or any where near the girls’ dorms. I could not bear to accept that every day, these girls live with an intense stench of full sewage tanks. After being swarmed and rushed by many kids who begged for more gifts, I avoided being alone with them. How on earth would I express, “Yes, I know it’s not fair.” I hid behind my video camera.  I didn’t say goodbye.

Closed, for now.

My heart and mind are closed for now. I seek shelter from the hurricane of emotions that may carry me away. My vocabulary is paralyzed and I’m unable to share the experience with others. Not without feeling a hollow and deeply painful ache in my chest. My fellow volunteers understand. For now, I am somewhat silent about my trip. I hope that soon I will find the way out. Because these children and countless others need help. Please visit www.asante-mariamu.org to learn how you can help too.

My choice

My Adventure

Posted on by
2

In a day I go on an adventure. I will be traveling to Kasulu, a village in Western Tanzania. No safari, no SUVs, no smiling bands of tourists. Just me and 6 other friends. We are traveling on behalf of Asante Mariamu, a non-profit organization formed by my dear friend Susan Dubois to help people with albinism in East Africa. In Kasulu we will be spending time at the Kabanga School for the Disabled. We are taking with us supplies for people with albinism, and visually and hearing impaired children. We will help improve various parts of the rather run-down school, teach people with albinism how to care for their skin, launch the first ever Albinism Awareness Day in Kasulu, and capture more stories to raise awareness.  This will be an adventure of a lifetime for me.

In the last week, I’ve been waking up feeling quite ill. In the last month, my stress level related to this trip has gone up. This is an incredible opportunity, a wonderful mission, a great cause. But this ache in my chest lingers.  I haven’t been able to nail down why. But now I know:

Cave woman

I am hardwired to care for my two babies. Yes, even at ages 12 and 8. And yes, even if I have the most capable husband and father to these big babies. I’m hardwired. I’m leaving them and traveling to an unknown place, and may find myself in unsafe situations. This act is causing ruckus in my psyche, and the logical side is losing the battle against the strong, hardwired cave woman/mama bear instinct to protect my babies. I’m fleeing the nest. My babies need food and shelter.

Direct line

iPhone be damned. What good will it be to me if there is no wireless connection? And no, I don’t need it to post my pictures on Facebook, check in, or tweet about what I had for breakfast. Not having a direct line to my family makes me uneasy.

What if I don’t come back?

I was startled when I said this out loud to my husband Scot a few weeks ago. Very startled.

So why am I going?

Because it’s the right thing to do and I want to go. And I’m going because I can. I’ve been handed this opportunity to go beyond my usual comfort zone and do some good for people who are not my family or close friends. It’s time I got off my ass and the comfort of my chair. It’s time I got off the Internet, the reach of social media, and touch some real people. Look at them directly in the eyes and talk to them.  Learn a new language. Make some  lifelong connections with people. People who perhaps cannot imagine owning a smart phone that can connect me with my family thousands of miles away, instantly. But only if I have a wireless connection…

Please learn more about Asante Mariamu, and why I feel compelled to leave my family for a week to be with the wonderful people of Kasulu, Tanzania.