Saturday, August 25, 2012

Out of Africa


Given that I started blogging earlier this year (2012), you probably don’t know much about my first trip to Africa. I was there in February of 2011. I took a lot of clothes, shoes, makeup, hair care products, nail polish, coats, jackets, UGGs, etc.  You name it, I had it. I did not want to be caught offguard. Lesson learned: Lots of things add up to a lot of weight; take only what you need.

Today I am on my second trip to Africa. I don’t need many clothes.  I don’t need gobs of shoes. I don’t need much makeup. I don’t need hair care products. Cheap shampoo will do. I do, though, need one bottle of nail polish.  Painting your toes is both uplifting and something to do, not to mention, a bottle of polish doesn’t weigh much.
             
The Definition of Need

What do I really need while in Africa? To say, “What does one “really” need?” means one doesn’t really know the meaning of the word need.  

I need two pair of quick-dry travel underwear, a few skirts, a few shirts, a couple pairs of shoes, Deet and malaria pills. “Need” is a word that gets thrown around a lot in the US. I am here to tell you, unless and until you go to a far away land (third world country) where “need” has true meaning, you should not be tossing the word “need” around very often.

Well, today I discovered that I truly need more Kleenex.  I have somehow come down with a really awesome cold (or allergies, or maybe malaria) and with the very fine dust in the air, since it is the dry season, it is all I can do to breathe. My nose runs non-stop. I brought what I thought would be enough to get me through 35 days, but I am now thinking my calculation was off. Fortunately, Mr. Wiseman’s Grocery Store, right across the street from our guest house, carries all kinds of things. So far I have seen baby wipes, candy bars, Kili beer baridi (cold) Pringles, bread and soap. I am very much hoping they carry Kleenex. I do mean Kleenex brand Kleenex. I do not mean any old generic. This is a job for Kleenex. I will check it out in the morning.

Tomorrow is a day of rest, which means we will wander around Babati and, once again, be exhausted at the end of the day. One of the reasons we are so exhausted by the end of the day is bikes and motorcycles and cars and delivery trucks expect you will get out of their way. They also drive on the wrong side of the road. Put the two together, it is hard work to walk down the street and also stay alive.

Back to need. I also discovered that I need Raid, or the Tanzanian equivalent.  We have encountered the most amazing, gigantic (kubwa), blood-sucking mosquitoes that one would ever experience in a lifetime. They are buzzing around the room like crazy. While you can’t always see them, you can always hear them. Chris smashed one between his hands, and about 2.4 liters of blood began dripping down his arm. We do have a mosquito net in our room. After day #3, and many kubwa, itchy mosquito bites, we started putting the net down at night. We are also taking malaria pills. Rumor has it that malaria pills don’t prevent malaria. The sole purpose of the pill is to facilitate a successful treatment. Without the pills, one could possibly experience death.

We think we need a simm card and international phone card. We probably don’t need it; however, we would like to be able to get in touch with someone in America in the event of an emergency and not be paying $4.99 per minute just to let someone know we are possibly dying. While dining with Julian and Sophie (our LTT friends) at the Quick Bite, they alerted us to the fact that there was, indeed, a way to have cheap communication back home. Supposedly, there is a little shop next door to the guest house where we can buy an inexpensive simm card for my Droid phone, then buy an international phone card, and we will be in business. 

Well, the next door that I went to was the hardware store. No simm cards there. Just another example of me not listening very closely, as no one said anything about getting a simm card next door. They did, however, have Raid. They had a kubwa can for 3500 Tanzanian shillings, or about $2.30. Rock Hand Hardware would have charged at least $8.99. What a bargain, and it may save our lives.

P.S. I found this in my draft posts. Better late than never. Cheers.




Home Sweet Home Montana

Hello, everyone. In case you think I may have left the country, I did. I am back. Africa was out of this world. Literally. Internet was a little tricky, but mostly incredibly slow, so I was not able to keep you posted on my travels. Boy, do I have some stories to tell.

In my five weeks, I experienced a lifetime of experiences and emotions: a death in the family; the birth of a baby by one of our new Babati friends; sad; glad; happy; overjoyed; frustrated; inspired; disappointed; excited; frightened; elated; and lastly, incredibly humbled to be a part of a community so grateful for each and every day, as they do not seem to know or mind that they have so little.

Many Tanzanians want to know if all Americans are rich. My answer: Many Americans are rich monetarily, most have more money than Tanzanians, but most Americans are nowhere as rich as Tanzanians in what matters most: happiness. Never did I hear one single Tanzanian complain of anything. I knew that from my trip before, but for five straight weeks, I was constantly reminded of that fact.

On my honor, I will try: To serve God and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law -- and I will absolutely give it my all to be more like Tanzanians. Cheers to a fabulous trip!