Here I am in the dog days of summer in Tanzania. Things are up and down. The coolest thing that I have done lately is attend a training for a secondary project in Iringa, Tanzania. It's a pretty sweet town and has very high elevation. Some say it's around 7,500ft, but I can't officially confirm that. Either way, it's pretty chilly despite it being summer. The training I have been at is for a program called ZINDUKA, which is a youth intervention program that uses soccer to provide education to in and out of school youth on topics like HIV/AIDS and Malaria. As I have previously blogged about, this program is a part of the GrassRoots Soccer program which was started in South Africa ~5 years ago as a way of putting an end to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. They have recently begun addressing the problem of Malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa, as well. I'm pretty excited about bringing the program back to my school, and I think the kids will really enjoy it. To find out more about the program, you can google "grassroots soccer" and follow links to the website.
Many different thoughts are to follow and aren't necessarily in any order: As it is, I have been in Tanzania for just under 8 months now. Things are ok. Some days are better than others, but all in all things aren't so bad. It's easy to get frustrated sometimes when people mess with you around town, but you try and be as patient as possible. Mostly it is because we (PCV's) are strange people in a foreign land, and when we leave our village, people take note in the new places that we visit. There is the same basic interaction with every Tanzanian that you meet, whom you haven't met before. They call you by the magical 6 letter word that every white person has to deal with, most of them assume you don't know the language, and a good number of them insist that you don't know Swahili even after hearing you speak. Granted, our Swahili isn't perfect, that same interaction gets old. Unfortunately that will continue to happen for the duration of my stay in Tanzania, but you try your best to find a way to deal with it. The attention and stares and strange behavior that many people direct towards you aren't so bad individually, but the fact is this happens every where you go outside of your village, any day of the week, and several times a day. This sort of stuff can wear on you, of course, but you try and find unique ways of measuring success in your service so that hopefully you can feel fulfilled and happy. It's no easy task, however.
I miss people. I miss family, friends, and other loved ones and I wish I could come visit. I don't want to move back to America just yet, but I just want to come and say hello. See how things are going. See my home again for a little while. Living far away from your home and culture can produce these sort of feelings, and anyone who says they don't is probably lying or unfortunately has no family or friends back home, which is probably extremely unlikely. I think about riding my bike a lot. Almost every day. Not necessarily to race, but just to have that feeling again of going fast under my own power, feeling the wind blowing by me, and hearing the hum of the tires on the pavement. One of the first things I want to do when I get back, even if it's just to visit, is ride my bike. I'll love that.
I miss good beer. Not because I like to drink a lot, because I don't. Really. I just miss having a really good beer with my friends and sharing the experience of indulging in something so natural and refreshing with people who appreciate it in just the same way. That is another one of the first things I will do when I return.
I miss running with my teammates. Some of them are gone from school, but many of them remain. I miss 10 milers in the state park and 17 milers in the national forest. Those days were good and they unfortunately went by too fast. It's easy to make excuses not to run, but when you have experienced the old days of running with your brothers and going to battle, just the same, on Saturdays it's hard to find that same meaning and motivation in your running. Things were just different then and it's a sort of magic that I haven't felt since those days. Those are days I will always cherish and although I have had to move on, they are still with me. It is a blessing and a curse in just the same way. It is difficult to run and train the same way when you have felt such a fond love for the game and those who it is shared with, but then have no way of finding it again. I still run, but it's different. Of course, the blessing is that I have those fond memories which I can call on, but the curse is that they are just memories now. A good story to tell or reminisce about.
I miss West Texas. I had a lot of beautiful moments out there in those mountains underneath some of the most beautiful night skies in the world. There was solitude, comfort, and in many cases, great friends with whom I was able to share those days and that environment with. I want to go back. As soon as I am able, I want to be back under those night skies, just to experience them again. Be it Fort Davis or Big Bend Ranch, one day I will be back. Hopefully with that same group of friends sharing the same sort of experience as before. I want to go back to McDonald Observatory. I want to look through the telescopes and see Saturn again. That was and will always be one of the most memorable experiences of my life. It made me feel like a kid again, as I smiled from ear to ear in a surreal sort of disbelief that I was actually staring at the planet Saturn. It was as close to magic as I have experienced, I believe, in my adult years to date. Of course, it's just a planet and we have seen pictures in books, but to see it for the first time with your own eyes like that...is truly...amazing. It reminded of my days as a child when I was so enthusiastic about learning about outer space. I always wanted to be an Astronaut and go to outer space. I wanted to feel the sensation of floating. I wanted to see the earth from a perspective that only a handful of people in the history of our existence have seen. It seemed so amazing, and still does. Seeing Saturn that night in West Texas brought me back to that state of amazement. I miss that. Soon, my friends I will be back and we can reminisce together about the times we have shared. These "friends" I speak of know who they are and I miss you all. Even more, I love you all as my brothers and can't wait to see you again.
I am finding satisfaction in my service and can say that I am dedicating a part of my life to a cause that few people have. Not that that gives me any sort of entitlement, it's actually just the opposite. It humbles me in that I know that I can be satisfied with myself each night that I go to bed because I am living a story that I wouldn't mind telling my future kids and wife. I know that although I get frustrated when people annoy me or stare at me or say ridiculous things to me at the bus stand, there are people in my village who actually like to see me and enjoy talking to me. There are also people in America, especially friends and family, who love the fact that I am here and doing what I am doing, living and learning within a free and modest lifestyle that gives me space to reflect and serve. I wish for nothing more than to never let you down. I am also humbled in the fact that I am a part of a family of Peace Corps volunteers who can share an experience and story that few people can relate to or even understand. I try to remember this and realize that at the end of the day, I am living a life that is worth living. I appreciate that and have always felt that that is a struggle that we as humans face. We yearn for love and acceptance, friendship, family, and when everything comes to an end, we hope that we are a little closer each day to the type of person we want to become. We want our life to mean something, whether for others or for ourselves, we want our existence to have some sort of meaning, regardless of the criteria we use to measure that "meaning". I appreciate that I can say that my life has "meaning" in this regard and that people appreciate my existence. Still, it is hard sometimes as people, regardless of their culture, can destroy this feeling. I am patient, though. Times will be good, and times will be bad, but all in all I am humble and satisfied in my existence and my service. I appreciate being able to share these thoughts with everyone who cares to read, and I wish that you find the same sort of meaning in your endeavors. Live a life worth living and a story worth telling. Take care my friends.
