I left off last time saying that my first week was very slow… well week two was an entirely different experience! Most of my work days were a full 12 hours, and I have met some new friends outside of work. The fast pace was a welcome change and my time flew by this week.

My SPP team spent every day this week out in the villages. The sites are anywhere from a one hour drive to four hours. We typically take our own pick-up truck–Peter drives, I get the front passenger seat and Onno sits in the back. Hannael stayed back this week to get things done in the office. Driving in Africa is an experience. The roads in Iringa town are all paved, but once we leave the city center, it feels like we are driving full speed down a rumble strip. The dirt roads have anywhere from packed gravel to loose dirt, and unexpected potholes and bumps have Peter slamming on the brakes every few minutes.

Because of some very early departure times, we stopped along the way at small roadside stalls called buka mamas. These little restaurants are run by mamas, mother-aged women, who cook traditional Tanzanian food. My favorite item on the limited menu has been the chai. The tea is wonderfully spicy and tempered with sugar and milk. I tasted some chapatis and ugali, a corn-meal based dish paired with vegetables and meat. By the time we were ready to leave the village on Wednesday, we had missed lunch and it was getting close to dinnertime. Our team stopped by the village butcher’s house and he was happy to hack off a shank of goat and cook it for us before our departure. I think this would have grossed me out in the US, but having seen the humane conditions that the goats live in before serving their purpose as food actually made it less upsetting to me.

Our experiences in the villages had a wide range last week. One village called us out because their system was not working at all. It turned out that the person responsible for turning the system on and off throughout the day had simply changed one of the power settings by mistake. A quick press of a button had the system back up and running. Another system was producing very low flow rates. Our team went out with the engineer who designed the system and we walked the line looking for water leakage sites. The engineer dug his heels in and refused to believe that the problem may be with the design itself. However, finding no physical evidence of leakage, we went back to the design and discovered that the amount of power supplied by the system’s solar panels was insufficient for the pump being used. We ordered additional solar panels for the system and will be installing them next week. One strange experience was in a village with an old system that had not been appropriately designed. Despite SPP offering to fund an entirely new system, the villagers were skeptical that they would accept the help. After a lot of discussion, the team was able to convince the villagers of the importance of a clean water supply, and they eventually voted to proceed with drilling a new well. I was surprised that it took convincing, but I suppose education about sanitation and health is very different (or nonexistent) in these areas. We ended the week on a high note in the village where we are completing our current water project. The villagers were very excited to show off the progress of their system. As contribution to the project, the village members volunteer to dig 1 meter trenches to bury the pipelines, and they were running well-ahead of schedule. Our visit to this village was efficient and problem-free, a welcome change!

After work on Monday, I met up with Brandi, a Peace Corps volunteer whom I had met on my last trip here. We grabbed some beers with a few other Peace Corps people and then went to dinner together. Although the Tanzanians I have met are all very friendly, it was so nice hanging out with young adults from the West. I feel like coming from similar cultural backgrounds allows for more depth in conversation because of a mutual understanding of how people interact/how things work at home. All of the PC people were in the same orientation group and are approaching the end of their assignments, and it was clear they are itching to get home. I unintentionally sparked some jealousy when I mentioned having indoor plumbing and a housekeeper who washes my clothes. However, everyone agreed that they like squatty toilets more than western toilets. Vlad, one of the guys, said that he wouldn’t do the Peace Corps experience again but was glad he had done it, and the others agreed. I thought this was an interesting concept–not quite regret, but not quite enthusiasm. Appreciation perhaps.

Later in the week I met up with some friends of Ethan’s, the previous SPP volunteer. Dave and Tricia are missionaries stationed in Iringa, and they have two young sons. They invited me out for dinner with a friend of theirs who was visiting from the UK and another couple. The other couple also had two young kids, and a surprising amount of the conversation centered around breastfeeding. The babies were adorable, but I am glad to be far from that stage of my life.  Dave and Tricia insisted on driving me home after dinner and gave me some safety advice about our neighborhood. They invited me over to their home whenever I choose, to play with their kids and their dogs, or for company and conversation. The combination of being exhausted from my long work days and feeling the generosity and compassion from Dave and Tricia made me cry for the first (and probably not last) time. I sat on my bed laughing at myself, because strangely I was feeling happy despite the tears.

On Sunday, I attended a church service–Dave is the pastor of a non-denominational church in town. About half of the congregation were wazungu expats and the other half were Tanzanians interested in learning more English. I was told that the community is very transient, as it is hard to get a long-term visa in Tanzania. I lingered afterward for tea and was happily surprised by all of the people who were interested in chatting with me briefly. I suppose people are more welcoming because of the short-term nature of many people’s stays–they probably went through the same orientation period recently.

After church I went to a craft fair with my neighbor April. I have been seeing posts of the Stone Arch Festival this week, and the craft fair helped to alleviate some of my wistfulness for missing it. It was fun to meander around the stalls and look at the offerings–mostly jewelry, clothing and food. Surprise, my purchases were 90% food (roasted peanuts, honey from the comb, Tanzanian donut)! There was a cookout outside of the craft building with burgers that were delicious if a little overcooked.

My post this week feels extra long, so I hope it didn’t feel like a trudge. It was hard to find time to sit down and write, thus the novella 🙂

I often joke that I could be one of those people who would enjoy going off in the wilderness for a year and be fine all alone. I think of myself as a very independent person, exacerbated by my introverted nature. Well, I certainly have fed my introverted needs this past week. Monday was given to me as an orientation day, and both Wednesday and Thursday were national holidays in observance of Eid, the end of Ramadan. So, I do not have a ton to report… I have spent my free time mainly walking, reading, knitting and watching tv, on repeat.

On my orientation day, my neighbor April showed me around the city. I found out where to buy vouchers for a phone plan, where to do my “wazungu” (white person) shopping and where the local market is. The wazungu shop is a fairly standard American-style convenience store. This is where I buy my milk, meat and household products. However, the market is much more fun. Once I got past the heinous odor of dried “dagaa” (dried sardines, a delicacy of a snack), there were mountains of fresh produce. After perusing my options, I bought a bunch of bananas, 5 avocados, a pineapple and a watermelon–all for the low low price of 7000 Tsh (roughly $3)!

The streets here in Iringa are not necessarily pedestrian-friendly. The choices are to walk on the street with wild piki-piki drivers and cars whizzing by or tramp through the dirt and underbrush footpaths on the side of the road. To make matters more interesting, one-meter-deep trenches separate the road from the footpaths to drain water during the rainy season. On my first solo walk exploring the city, I chose the footpaths, constantly looking down at my feet to make sure I would not trip or run across a snake (I have been told that there are no snakes in the city–jury’s still out as to whether I believe this or not!). I was well into my walk when I realized I had barely looked up to enjoy my surroundings. I had hiked upwards and had a magnificent view of the city below me. I guess my lesson is that I need to slow down and look up–the journey is part of the adventure!

In preparation for my trip, I got the rabies series of vaccinations so that I could jog here (I was warned that the dogs are territorial and sometimes prone to chasing joggers. Read: not good floofs). However, I went for my first and probably last run of the summer on Tuesday. The streets were uneven and I needed to jump to the side every time a car passed, so my run ended up being more frustrating than stress-relieving. I researched local gyms and found a couple options, but one ended up being out of business and the other offered scheduled fitness classes with no equipment. Womp womp. I finally broke out my problem solving skills and designed my own makeshift at-home gym, complete with water jugs to serve as weights.

Although this week has been quiet, it gave me time to acclimate to my new home and rest, and I am looking forward to getting to work next week!

I have never been able to keep a diary or journal; half a dozen failed attempts sit in my closet with a measly two or three entries to show for themselves before I lost interest. However, I am currently sitting in my beautiful dining room of my beautiful apartment in a beautiful country, and I feel the need to push myself to reflect–when will I ever have an experience like this again? So, I am upping the stakes by turning my journal into a blog post in the hopes that viewership will motivate me to write. I am challenging myself to post at least once a week for the twelve weeks that I am here. Feels doable. With a large mug of masala tea in my hand and having just blasted Africa by Toto, I am ready to start.

For me, getting ready to leave was the hard part, but leaving was easy. The 48 hours that led up to my departure felt hectic and stressful. Last-minute items popped up that I perhaps should have thought about weeks prior; I moved my belongings out of 1301 and into Lisa and Steve’s (somehow finding space for it all despite Joe sharing the room), I moved Daario’s things to Maggie’s place and deep-cleaned for the last (and first?) time at 1301. I should have dropped Daario off earlier in the week to  make sure he acclimated to Maggie’s place, but I couldn’t do it–I kept needing one more night of Daar-man snuggles. We went for one last walk to last us until fall, and then I drugged him up with anti-anxiety treats before I left. I probably needed some of those too. Once I got to the airport, my stress dissipated; whatever I forgot was forgotten and whatever I left unfinished will be waiting for me in August. It was time to start enjoying the journey.

Three connections and a full 24 hours later, I arrived in Dar Es Salaam. The trip was fairly uneventful. I found some pleasure in that the flight attendants all spoke to me in German, thinking that I was European. Points for dressing in a monochromatic wardrobe. I was upgraded to business class for the last leg of the trip, a lengthy 59-minute flight, but I celebrated this small win–my legs were unbearably cramped at this point. Miraji, my contracted taxi driver, was waiting for me outside of the airport with a handmade sign that he had clearly put effort into–large colorful blue bubble letters spelled my name. He immediately recognized me from a photo Ken had sent and gave me a big hug. Miraji brought me to a hotel in Dar for the night and we agreed to meet at 7 the next morning to start our drive to Iringa.

I greatly enjoyed my drive with Miraji. After exchanging some details about our respective families, we drove in comfortable silence, with me occasionally asking what a word was in Swahili. The formal way to greet someone in Tanzania is to say “Habari za leo?” meaning literally “What is the news of the day?” The response is always “Nzuri.” “Good.” I asked him if anyone ever says that they are not good, and he explained that only if someone is sick and dying do they respond “Mbaya.” Later on our drive, we were stopped at a police checkpoint and Miraji’s car was inspected. After passing the inspection, we continued our drive and Miraji laughed, saying that the police were so corrupt. They knew they could not pull him over for speeding, so they were hoping he did not have a fire extinguisher in his car or the correct paperwork so they could either threaten him with a ticket or solicit a bribe. He said all of this with a smile on his face and no resentment in his voice, so I was left wondering if he is truly so carefree or if it is the Tanzanian culture to pretend everything is nzuri.

At some point during the drive, I dozed off and was shocked to wake up seeing monkeys on the road. We were passing through a national park, Mikumi. We later passed by two elephants and I happened to look out the window in time to see a lioness casually stalking through the grass by the side of the road. Unreal. We made it to Iringa in a little under 12 hours and April was waiting to greet us and show me around my apartment. I got a couple of FaceTimes in to my parents and Carrie and decided to make it an early night after unpacking. I fell asleep under my mosquito net canopy to the sound of roosters crowing and wild dogs howling, with the same thought rattling around in my mind: I can’t believe this will be my life for the next 3 months.