"Although I've travelled far, I always hold a place for you in my heart. If you think of me, if you miss me once in a while, than I'll return to you, I'll return and fill that place in your heart."
July 24, 2009
This is going to be my last blog entry for a while. I am boarding a plane in a few days for America. This is pretty surreal.
Yesterday I had to say good-bye to my village. I am still processing in my head what happened. Margaret came to my site to visit me. Around two pm the village government came to my house to tell me that today is Siku Kuu Kwa Brie (A Holiday for Brie). The entire village government, my friends, my teachers were all gathered. There was drumming, dancing, and even a song where the main chorus was "Tunakupenda Brie Kwa Kweli" (We love you, Brie, truly.) I was pretty much in shock this whole time. Almost everyone made a speech telling me how much thy love me, greeting my family in America, and wishing me a safe journey. They have a strong fear I will not return. I made a tearful speech thanking them for becoming my family. They wrapped me in traditional cloth which later I used to carry Anna on my back while we danced. Food had been made and decorations put up, including a sign that said "Brie Fill at Home" They meant "Feel". I am not sure anyone has ever done anything more touching for me. The party continued at the bar and the whole time I was just in shock at why they love me so much and why I love them so much. Why they now are everything to me. I can barely speak to them, I am helpless, spoiled and different. Yet somehow watching the faces of the people I have known for only a year, I felt afraid to leave the security of them, my beautiful loving African family who somehow, despite the fact that everyday I miss my American family, stole a place in my heart.
Friday, July 24, 2009
You Can Help
"Make altruism and giving part of your life, and be purposeful about it. Researcher Stephan Post says helping a neighbor, volunteering, or donating goods and services results in a "helper's high" and you get more health benefits than you would from exercise or quitting smoking. Researcher Elizabeth Dunn found that those who spend money on others reported much greater happiness than those who spend it on themselves."
-Psychology Magazine, on the key to happiness
I realize that right now America is going through a financial crisis and most people are struggling with money. Our economic problems have been difficult to explain to Africans. There is no need to feel guilty over their lack. Tanzanians are happy people and used to their lives. However, I am here to try to help my own little Tanzanian village who is in great need. Despite your feeling of having nothing I would encourage you to think about what you do really have that you could offer. Tanzanians are special people and worth helping- please read my blog or email me with questions- brienneblacklidge@gmail.com.
Here is what you could do:
1) I need MONEY- if everyone I know just gave $5, Image Village would be completely transformed. The money is primarily going to build a latrine for the primary school girls. Inside will be girls empowerment messages, AIDS education messages and a sign with those peoples names who donated for the project. Also needed is funds to do AIDS testing, bee-keeping training, etc. If you, or your business or someone you know can give money please do! I can supply you with picture and statements of where your funds went.
2) I need CONDOMS- Anyone working in the health sector that could supply me with some free condoms would be great.
3) I need a NIKE CONNECTION- Mercy Corps partners with Nike to do AIDS education through soccer in Sudan. I want to copy this program on a smaller scale. We already have six teams of young boys and fields but we have no balls. Village women will be able to sell their goods at the games. Do you have a connection with Nike where I could receive balls for free or a discounted price? (I went to UofO, am from PDX, worked for Mercy Corps, am working in Africa... I think Phil Knight should help me out a little bit... don't you?) Any other sports gear would also be appreciated.
4) Any small inexpensive toys: Stickers, jump ropes, little cars, plastic jewelry, pencils, etc- gifts and prizes for children. Nothing too nice or high tech. Remember they have next to nothing.
Please email me if you are interested in helping Image Village in any capacity (monetary is preferred) There is also a village video, not posted online for my own privacy. Get your children involved! Giving is something that should be instilled in us all.
Thank you for your generosity,
Brie and Image Village
-Psychology Magazine, on the key to happiness
I realize that right now America is going through a financial crisis and most people are struggling with money. Our economic problems have been difficult to explain to Africans. There is no need to feel guilty over their lack. Tanzanians are happy people and used to their lives. However, I am here to try to help my own little Tanzanian village who is in great need. Despite your feeling of having nothing I would encourage you to think about what you do really have that you could offer. Tanzanians are special people and worth helping- please read my blog or email me with questions- brienneblacklidge@gmail.com.
Here is what you could do:
1) I need MONEY- if everyone I know just gave $5, Image Village would be completely transformed. The money is primarily going to build a latrine for the primary school girls. Inside will be girls empowerment messages, AIDS education messages and a sign with those peoples names who donated for the project. Also needed is funds to do AIDS testing, bee-keeping training, etc. If you, or your business or someone you know can give money please do! I can supply you with picture and statements of where your funds went.
2) I need CONDOMS- Anyone working in the health sector that could supply me with some free condoms would be great.
3) I need a NIKE CONNECTION- Mercy Corps partners with Nike to do AIDS education through soccer in Sudan. I want to copy this program on a smaller scale. We already have six teams of young boys and fields but we have no balls. Village women will be able to sell their goods at the games. Do you have a connection with Nike where I could receive balls for free or a discounted price? (I went to UofO, am from PDX, worked for Mercy Corps, am working in Africa... I think Phil Knight should help me out a little bit... don't you?) Any other sports gear would also be appreciated.
4) Any small inexpensive toys: Stickers, jump ropes, little cars, plastic jewelry, pencils, etc- gifts and prizes for children. Nothing too nice or high tech. Remember they have next to nothing.
Please email me if you are interested in helping Image Village in any capacity (monetary is preferred) There is also a village video, not posted online for my own privacy. Get your children involved! Giving is something that should be instilled in us all.
Thank you for your generosity,
Brie and Image Village
Beauty in a Helping Hand
Beauty tips from Audrey Hepburn- My Favorite: " Remember if you ever need a helping hand you'll find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself and one for helping others."
July 18-23, 2009
I have become the village "rescue rat". Catherine gets so sick, with a fever the villagers think she might die. I am frantic. I sit at her bedside with a "My Little Pony" coloring book and crayons. I try to convince the teachers to let me sleep next to her but they are afraid for my own health and say I have been in her sick room too much already. She doesn't die. She has now regained a lot of her health and is now out of bed.
The teacher's are really busy this week so I spend a lot of time with William who has become my "security blanket" since the event with Martin. We are almost inseparable as I understand his Swahili and he somehow understands mine. Sometimes I forget that we are so different. That he is Tanzanian, speaks no English, has just finished primary school, is married and has a five year old son. Finding him was like finding a long lost friend I have known my whole life and we communicate with no problem, which surprises me. I find out that his son is handicapped and he will have no more children, His love for his son only endears him to me more. Also the fact that he will drop anything to help me. My door wouldn't lock and I kept forgetting to tell anyone. So for about a week my front door wasn't locked. I finally told William who was furious that I had been sleeping in the house alone with an unlocked front door. Within two hours I had a new door.
I sit at the bar and watch him fix his motorcycle and am reminded of my high school days where I used to watch Rian fix whatever broken down car he own. William is inventive using a screwdriver for everything. He pulls up a chair for me, buys me a soda, motions toward the rest of the guys and says "Okay, Brie, Tell them about condoms." We play checkers, they play slightly differently, but me, with my competitive, show-off, Aries personality says "Okay, whoever wins has to buy the other one a beer." Turns out, William is really good at checkers... Brie not so good. I think I owe him about five beers, I am yet to win one.
It is beauty week in the village. Jen wants to know why my eyebrows look so good. I tell her about tweezers, she thinks it is a weird idea but wants me to try to on her. So I spend about an hour plucking her eyebrows. Suddenly, I am in demand. I think I plucked about ten African women's eyebrows this week (not really my plan for my PC service, but things don't always go as planned.) They look through my people magazines to find the shape they want. (Beyonce was most in demand.) I tell them about waxing, which totally freaks them out and I teach them about tampons which is a very foreign idea. They are confused by why I wash my hair instead of add oil to it and I try to explain American hair... They all paint their nails with my nail polish. The whole exchange sort of cracks me up... Does PC service lead to beauty school?!?
July 18-23, 2009
I have become the village "rescue rat". Catherine gets so sick, with a fever the villagers think she might die. I am frantic. I sit at her bedside with a "My Little Pony" coloring book and crayons. I try to convince the teachers to let me sleep next to her but they are afraid for my own health and say I have been in her sick room too much already. She doesn't die. She has now regained a lot of her health and is now out of bed.
The teacher's are really busy this week so I spend a lot of time with William who has become my "security blanket" since the event with Martin. We are almost inseparable as I understand his Swahili and he somehow understands mine. Sometimes I forget that we are so different. That he is Tanzanian, speaks no English, has just finished primary school, is married and has a five year old son. Finding him was like finding a long lost friend I have known my whole life and we communicate with no problem, which surprises me. I find out that his son is handicapped and he will have no more children, His love for his son only endears him to me more. Also the fact that he will drop anything to help me. My door wouldn't lock and I kept forgetting to tell anyone. So for about a week my front door wasn't locked. I finally told William who was furious that I had been sleeping in the house alone with an unlocked front door. Within two hours I had a new door.
I sit at the bar and watch him fix his motorcycle and am reminded of my high school days where I used to watch Rian fix whatever broken down car he own. William is inventive using a screwdriver for everything. He pulls up a chair for me, buys me a soda, motions toward the rest of the guys and says "Okay, Brie, Tell them about condoms." We play checkers, they play slightly differently, but me, with my competitive, show-off, Aries personality says "Okay, whoever wins has to buy the other one a beer." Turns out, William is really good at checkers... Brie not so good. I think I owe him about five beers, I am yet to win one.
It is beauty week in the village. Jen wants to know why my eyebrows look so good. I tell her about tweezers, she thinks it is a weird idea but wants me to try to on her. So I spend about an hour plucking her eyebrows. Suddenly, I am in demand. I think I plucked about ten African women's eyebrows this week (not really my plan for my PC service, but things don't always go as planned.) They look through my people magazines to find the shape they want. (Beyonce was most in demand.) I tell them about waxing, which totally freaks them out and I teach them about tampons which is a very foreign idea. They are confused by why I wash my hair instead of add oil to it and I try to explain American hair... They all paint their nails with my nail polish. The whole exchange sort of cracks me up... Does PC service lead to beauty school?!?
Nine Dollars Well Spent
"She's so far gone she feels just like a fool. My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things. You set it up so well so carefully. Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things? You're still the same old girl you used to be."
-The Eagles
I should have known that it might be a rough day when I drew "Courage" as my angel card. I was at my house cooking rice and a student came to tell me that the Mwalimu Mkuu has requested me to come to the school and supervise the water hauling... Great. I am only there for a few minutes when some students come up to me with one bleeding profusely from his head. I recognize him from my standard 6 class. The bleeding boy lips quiver and tears catch in his long black lashes, while he is trying to keep blood out of his face and off his school uniform (They are expensive.) Tanzanians as a general rule don't cry, and he is trying his best. I still don't really understand what happened but apparently he fell while playing. There is blood everywhere, the grass is red instead of green and my stomach turns over as I remember that I am not cut out for this. He tells me his name is Martin and he is not sure how old he is but he thinks around 11 (This is normal in Africa). I briefly picture my little brothers as I rip fabric from my skirt to attempt to stop the bleeding. I send the students to find another teacher and when Mwalimu Simon arrives I run to my house for my PC medical kit which is almost exhausted from Puce's motorcycle accident. I arm my self with gloves, antiseptic, and pads to compress his head. When I return M. Simon tells me I need to use a razor blade to cut his hair around the gash. All the children already have shaved heads but the little hair that is there I am supposed to cut. I put n the gloves and attempt not to vomit as I hold a razor blade to his head. I should say here that this much blood sort of freaks me out and I am not a calm person in emergencies. After his hair cutting I take him to our dispensary and send students to find his parents. Jessica, our nurse, tells me she cannot sew it up but I am welcome to do t myself with a needle if I want. This idea is so barbaric that resist puking again. I panic- "What do we do!?!" I say, "This boy need medical attention!" Finally his mom shows up and says "Bahati mbaya" (Bad luck) and that it is in God's hands now, because she cannot afford to take him to the other closest dispensary to get stitches (15 K away). No offense to God, but it is in Brie's hands. I find myself picturing my sweet parents rushing my brothers to the emergency room to have their chins sewn up (multiple times), and for a second I hate my villagers. I hate our poverty, I hate our belief that we are helpless and everything is only in the hands of God, I hate that we let a child suffer.
I am crying at this point and telling them that I will get this boy to the hospital if i have to carry him on my back and walk every step of the way. Luckily, this is not what i have to do. The next thing I know William (One of my Vijana-men between the ages of 17 and 30- guys) is at my side. He takes me around the corner of the dispensary, where I continue to cry and panic from the stress of it all. He puts his hands on my shoulders and for a second I think he is going to hit me, which would be culturally acceptable except that I am white and not his wife so I think our village would be pissed. Instead he takes me by both shoulders and tells me to pull it together, and don't I know that children die here everyday, me freaking out is only scaring this kid. He too says it is just in God's hands. I tell him no and in a very Scarlett O'Hara-ish moment, throw a huge fit about how we are going to the hospital right now and he is going to take us there. (William can drive a car.) I tell him I will pay whatever price. I am snobby ordering one of my best friends around. But William says, "Brie, why are you doing this? You don't know him, you don't know his parents. Just let it go." I continue my fit that I will absolutely not let it go and if he doesn't drive me this very minute... and I let him have it. Half our village has gathered at this point to watch me order a 28 year old man around, but finally he consents. He make sit very clear to me that he is doing it for me- sweet William, he has not given up hope that I might give birth to his children. I love Obama, but he has given every Tanzanian man the idea that he can father the next one.
I quickly run home, grab some money, my coat, a coat for the boy, more pads to soak up the blood, some bananas for him to eat and some shiny dinosaur stickers from America which he gladly decorates his arm with. The road is rough and I hold Martin's hand and we bounce along. William drives carefully and works to keep both Martin and I calm. We arrive to see the hospital is closed and so I freak out. William somehow handles all f it and soon someone is there to stitch the boy up. The nurse says to William "Your wife is very upset, please take her to the waiting room." For the first time all three of us laugh to be mistaken as a family, for we are a motley crew, and I am pretty sure that Martin would be a little whiter... I want to stay in the room and hold Martin's hand but William tells me he needs to handle it on his own he is a big boy.
One of the biggest rewards is n the waiting room William says, "That is the kindest thing I have ever seen anyone do for anyone else. Why?" And I cannot put it into words in Swahili so I just say "Because I love our people." I cannot add passionately, possessively, with complete recklessness- They have given me everything when they have nothing. He says, "You are the first American I have ever seen, and if they are all like you, your country must have the most beautiful people in the world." I am not the best PCV, I have reached almost none of our development goals, but as for the cultural exchange and representing Americans to people all over the world. I think maybe I have achieved it in my small corner of Tanzania. Martin's stitches are finished and I pay. The total of stitches, antibiotics and gas to get there comes to less than $9, but I am the only one who would have paid for it. The next morning I wash the boys white shirt of his uniform which has become red from all the blood stains. I figure I am the only one in my village who owns bleach, so bleach it and sew back on a pocket.
The next morning Juster comes to my house and tells me that the whole village is talking about it... Great. Now I am going to have to pay for every injury. But she says, 'No, it is because you went so far out of your way. You spent an entire day helping that boy. You made it happen with your money, with your connections, with power, with love. Today the villagers are thanking God for you." I sarcastically says, "That is funny, I have done nothing here really." She says, "You still don't get it do you? Everyday you live here some one's life is changed. You affected that boy's life forever. You think he is every going to forget you? Brie, he will remember you as long as he lives."
-The Eagles
I should have known that it might be a rough day when I drew "Courage" as my angel card. I was at my house cooking rice and a student came to tell me that the Mwalimu Mkuu has requested me to come to the school and supervise the water hauling... Great. I am only there for a few minutes when some students come up to me with one bleeding profusely from his head. I recognize him from my standard 6 class. The bleeding boy lips quiver and tears catch in his long black lashes, while he is trying to keep blood out of his face and off his school uniform (They are expensive.) Tanzanians as a general rule don't cry, and he is trying his best. I still don't really understand what happened but apparently he fell while playing. There is blood everywhere, the grass is red instead of green and my stomach turns over as I remember that I am not cut out for this. He tells me his name is Martin and he is not sure how old he is but he thinks around 11 (This is normal in Africa). I briefly picture my little brothers as I rip fabric from my skirt to attempt to stop the bleeding. I send the students to find another teacher and when Mwalimu Simon arrives I run to my house for my PC medical kit which is almost exhausted from Puce's motorcycle accident. I arm my self with gloves, antiseptic, and pads to compress his head. When I return M. Simon tells me I need to use a razor blade to cut his hair around the gash. All the children already have shaved heads but the little hair that is there I am supposed to cut. I put n the gloves and attempt not to vomit as I hold a razor blade to his head. I should say here that this much blood sort of freaks me out and I am not a calm person in emergencies. After his hair cutting I take him to our dispensary and send students to find his parents. Jessica, our nurse, tells me she cannot sew it up but I am welcome to do t myself with a needle if I want. This idea is so barbaric that resist puking again. I panic- "What do we do!?!" I say, "This boy need medical attention!" Finally his mom shows up and says "Bahati mbaya" (Bad luck) and that it is in God's hands now, because she cannot afford to take him to the other closest dispensary to get stitches (15 K away). No offense to God, but it is in Brie's hands. I find myself picturing my sweet parents rushing my brothers to the emergency room to have their chins sewn up (multiple times), and for a second I hate my villagers. I hate our poverty, I hate our belief that we are helpless and everything is only in the hands of God, I hate that we let a child suffer.
I am crying at this point and telling them that I will get this boy to the hospital if i have to carry him on my back and walk every step of the way. Luckily, this is not what i have to do. The next thing I know William (One of my Vijana-men between the ages of 17 and 30- guys) is at my side. He takes me around the corner of the dispensary, where I continue to cry and panic from the stress of it all. He puts his hands on my shoulders and for a second I think he is going to hit me, which would be culturally acceptable except that I am white and not his wife so I think our village would be pissed. Instead he takes me by both shoulders and tells me to pull it together, and don't I know that children die here everyday, me freaking out is only scaring this kid. He too says it is just in God's hands. I tell him no and in a very Scarlett O'Hara-ish moment, throw a huge fit about how we are going to the hospital right now and he is going to take us there. (William can drive a car.) I tell him I will pay whatever price. I am snobby ordering one of my best friends around. But William says, "Brie, why are you doing this? You don't know him, you don't know his parents. Just let it go." I continue my fit that I will absolutely not let it go and if he doesn't drive me this very minute... and I let him have it. Half our village has gathered at this point to watch me order a 28 year old man around, but finally he consents. He make sit very clear to me that he is doing it for me- sweet William, he has not given up hope that I might give birth to his children. I love Obama, but he has given every Tanzanian man the idea that he can father the next one.
I quickly run home, grab some money, my coat, a coat for the boy, more pads to soak up the blood, some bananas for him to eat and some shiny dinosaur stickers from America which he gladly decorates his arm with. The road is rough and I hold Martin's hand and we bounce along. William drives carefully and works to keep both Martin and I calm. We arrive to see the hospital is closed and so I freak out. William somehow handles all f it and soon someone is there to stitch the boy up. The nurse says to William "Your wife is very upset, please take her to the waiting room." For the first time all three of us laugh to be mistaken as a family, for we are a motley crew, and I am pretty sure that Martin would be a little whiter... I want to stay in the room and hold Martin's hand but William tells me he needs to handle it on his own he is a big boy.
One of the biggest rewards is n the waiting room William says, "That is the kindest thing I have ever seen anyone do for anyone else. Why?" And I cannot put it into words in Swahili so I just say "Because I love our people." I cannot add passionately, possessively, with complete recklessness- They have given me everything when they have nothing. He says, "You are the first American I have ever seen, and if they are all like you, your country must have the most beautiful people in the world." I am not the best PCV, I have reached almost none of our development goals, but as for the cultural exchange and representing Americans to people all over the world. I think maybe I have achieved it in my small corner of Tanzania. Martin's stitches are finished and I pay. The total of stitches, antibiotics and gas to get there comes to less than $9, but I am the only one who would have paid for it. The next morning I wash the boys white shirt of his uniform which has become red from all the blood stains. I figure I am the only one in my village who owns bleach, so bleach it and sew back on a pocket.
The next morning Juster comes to my house and tells me that the whole village is talking about it... Great. Now I am going to have to pay for every injury. But she says, 'No, it is because you went so far out of your way. You spent an entire day helping that boy. You made it happen with your money, with your connections, with power, with love. Today the villagers are thanking God for you." I sarcastically says, "That is funny, I have done nothing here really." She says, "You still don't get it do you? Everyday you live here some one's life is changed. You affected that boy's life forever. You think he is every going to forget you? Brie, he will remember you as long as he lives."
Monday, July 13, 2009
My Bride Price
"My friends from high school married their high school boyfriends, moved into houses in the same zip codes that their parents lived but I, No, I could never follow... I've been a long time gone now, maybe someday, someday, I'm gonna settle down., but I've always found my way somehow by takin' the long way, Takin' the long way around."
-Dixie Chicks
July 6-13, 2009
I return to my village from Morogoro. I get multiple texts from PCVs about being robbed. I walk to my front door, expecting the worst. Instead there are three baskets: one is full of groundnuts for roasting, one is full of fresh eggs, one is full of maize to grind into ugali flour. Then there is a bunch of bananas straight from the Jungle Book cut right out of the tree. I am not sure how many bananas my village thinks I can eat but apparently about one hundred. I guess it was clear I was not robbed. I see Justice early on who tells me how much they all missed me and that the second day I was gone they were all so bored. So it was nice to be missed. Anna runs to me clapping her hands and giggling. I was only gone a week but they were clearly happy for my return.
Setting the Scene: Primary School garden area
Me: Surrounded by 900 dirty little kids, in my brand new skirt sitting in the dirt. My long (fake) blonde (fake) braids swing into my eyes. My red nail polish is caked in dirt as I stuff plastic tubes with dirt along with the students. So that we can plant trees in them in a few days.
Jen: Sitting in a chair her dark hair braided in cornrows (real), holding her stick to beat the students. She has on her high heels and cute little skirt. She smiles sweetly at me and shows off her one dimple. (We actually look not so different for being entirely different. The M. Mkuu has started calling me Jen Marekani and her Brie Tanzania.) The other teachers sit is various other places around the garden holding sticks and talking while the children and I work.
I tell Jen about my morning and how it sucked: first I chased Siyafu out of my house, then I scraped rat guts off my floor (thanks Kimulimuli... maybe you can eat all of it the next time), then I had to haul wood to make a fire tonight (it is freezing here now,) then I re-arranged my guest room....
(Conversation in English)
Jen: Brie, your family is going to be very surprised. You are not very soft anymore. (Unfortunately, she is not talking about my body). It is not good, you are turning into a village woman. You should stay soft.
Me: I live alone, I have work to do. I have to work.
Jen: You still are the most beautiful woman in our village and look like a princess (being white and fat here are valued traits), but you should not be working in the dirt with the children. You should stay soft. Your bride price will go down. Your father is going to be very disappointed.
Me: There isn't a bride price in America. No one is going to pay to marry me, my father is not going to be disappointed if he doesn't receive any cows. As long as the students are working there is no point in just sitting there I can work with them together. (Fundamental cultural difference: Tanzanians view children as lower class, they do not nurture individuality or Independence in children.)
Jen: Brie, your family is going to be disappointed with us. We are supposed to have taken care of you and you are dirty and fierce now. They will be surprised that you will not be well-behaved.
(Here I laugh to myself: not being well-behaved is one thing that I don't think will surprise my family. And I think of my Bami who reminds me- well- behaved women rarely make history.)
So for two day I make a point of working side by side with the students. The teachers tell me I will not be respected if this is what I do. The next day 18 students show up at my house to haul water and firewood for me. I have not asked them to do this none of the teachers asked them to do this. When Mwalimu mledwa questions why they came on their own accord they shyly remain silent, until one boy finally bravely says: "Because she is our friend."... Ha! I think I won that one! Not respecting me, whatever.
I got too involved in a domestic dispute which we are not supposed to do. Wither (Justice's daughter) was really sick. She is only a baby and Mama Wither came to me and told me that she was scared. I immediately offered up the money for a hospital bill but she said that wasn't the problem. It is that she asked Justice for the money and he said no. So I do what I know I should not and step into it. That night he is drinking at the bar with all of us and I say- hey, I think you are a good person and a pretty good husband but you need to give your wife some money and care for your baby. He agrees. But then the next day she tells me that he was really mad that she told me their business. Sometimes it is hard not to step in and with them when I am friends with the whole family it is even more difficult. Wither ended up going to the hospital and now is feeling a bit better.
-Dixie Chicks
July 6-13, 2009
I return to my village from Morogoro. I get multiple texts from PCVs about being robbed. I walk to my front door, expecting the worst. Instead there are three baskets: one is full of groundnuts for roasting, one is full of fresh eggs, one is full of maize to grind into ugali flour. Then there is a bunch of bananas straight from the Jungle Book cut right out of the tree. I am not sure how many bananas my village thinks I can eat but apparently about one hundred. I guess it was clear I was not robbed. I see Justice early on who tells me how much they all missed me and that the second day I was gone they were all so bored. So it was nice to be missed. Anna runs to me clapping her hands and giggling. I was only gone a week but they were clearly happy for my return.
Setting the Scene: Primary School garden area
Me: Surrounded by 900 dirty little kids, in my brand new skirt sitting in the dirt. My long (fake) blonde (fake) braids swing into my eyes. My red nail polish is caked in dirt as I stuff plastic tubes with dirt along with the students. So that we can plant trees in them in a few days.
Jen: Sitting in a chair her dark hair braided in cornrows (real), holding her stick to beat the students. She has on her high heels and cute little skirt. She smiles sweetly at me and shows off her one dimple. (We actually look not so different for being entirely different. The M. Mkuu has started calling me Jen Marekani and her Brie Tanzania.) The other teachers sit is various other places around the garden holding sticks and talking while the children and I work.
I tell Jen about my morning and how it sucked: first I chased Siyafu out of my house, then I scraped rat guts off my floor (thanks Kimulimuli... maybe you can eat all of it the next time), then I had to haul wood to make a fire tonight (it is freezing here now,) then I re-arranged my guest room....
(Conversation in English)
Jen: Brie, your family is going to be very surprised. You are not very soft anymore. (Unfortunately, she is not talking about my body). It is not good, you are turning into a village woman. You should stay soft.
Me: I live alone, I have work to do. I have to work.
Jen: You still are the most beautiful woman in our village and look like a princess (being white and fat here are valued traits), but you should not be working in the dirt with the children. You should stay soft. Your bride price will go down. Your father is going to be very disappointed.
Me: There isn't a bride price in America. No one is going to pay to marry me, my father is not going to be disappointed if he doesn't receive any cows. As long as the students are working there is no point in just sitting there I can work with them together. (Fundamental cultural difference: Tanzanians view children as lower class, they do not nurture individuality or Independence in children.)
Jen: Brie, your family is going to be disappointed with us. We are supposed to have taken care of you and you are dirty and fierce now. They will be surprised that you will not be well-behaved.
(Here I laugh to myself: not being well-behaved is one thing that I don't think will surprise my family. And I think of my Bami who reminds me- well- behaved women rarely make history.)
So for two day I make a point of working side by side with the students. The teachers tell me I will not be respected if this is what I do. The next day 18 students show up at my house to haul water and firewood for me. I have not asked them to do this none of the teachers asked them to do this. When Mwalimu mledwa questions why they came on their own accord they shyly remain silent, until one boy finally bravely says: "Because she is our friend."... Ha! I think I won that one! Not respecting me, whatever.
I got too involved in a domestic dispute which we are not supposed to do. Wither (Justice's daughter) was really sick. She is only a baby and Mama Wither came to me and told me that she was scared. I immediately offered up the money for a hospital bill but she said that wasn't the problem. It is that she asked Justice for the money and he said no. So I do what I know I should not and step into it. That night he is drinking at the bar with all of us and I say- hey, I think you are a good person and a pretty good husband but you need to give your wife some money and care for your baby. He agrees. But then the next day she tells me that he was really mad that she told me their business. Sometimes it is hard not to step in and with them when I am friends with the whole family it is even more difficult. Wither ended up going to the hospital and now is feeling a bit better.
Community Theatre Workshop
Margaret (PCV/Friend) attempting to get a man to use a condom through a theatrical approachJune 29- July 3, 2009
So the internet has been down, so no blog updates in a while. But went to Morogoro with fourteen other PCVs and our counterparts for a week on training on how to use community theatre approach to teach about AIDS. It was interesting and I think will be very useful, particularly in Image, where people find it difficult to discuss the issues. We had a theatre group come into train us about how to bring an interactive approach to our communities.
One of the more exciting things that happened in Morogoro was when my friends, Ashleigh, Catherine, Brianna, Sarah, and I were eating dinner at a restuarant and approached to be in a music video they were filming. So turns out the five of us danced awkwardly, I might add, in a Tanzanian music video that is due to play on Tv here this month. I can only hope that my village gets to watch it.
The other really exciting thing was that Teri (another PCV) and I spent about four hours enduring the pain of having fake hair braided into our real hair at a saloon. Picture Below:
Teri and I
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