More of a Mystery

Trip Start Jun 18, 2008

Trip End Aug 17, 2008

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Flag of United States Coronado, California, United States
Friday, August 22, 2008

Coronado, California may very well be one of the nicest places in the US. It also happens to be where I live and where I attempt to adjust to life back in America. My first day back I decided that an afternoon at the beach would be the perfect jetlag activity. After thirty minutes, I had to leave. I know it is totally illogical, but I just could not sit on the beautiful beach as my mind tried to process my summer. Temper tantrums surrounded me as over-privileged children demanded ice cream. "Don't they know how lucky they are just to have parents!" I wanted to scream, but instead gathered my belongings and headed to a house that doesn't feel exactly like home.

I originally envisioned this last blog as a place for my final thoughts. I place to wrap up my observations and maybe, just maybe pass on a bit of wisdom. In my naivety, I thought I would return home and continue my life, my Africa chapter neatly wrapped up and complete with a better understanding of Tanzania and general African issues. I now realize that I it will be a long while if ever before I finish reflecting on this experience. And that in many ways Tanzania remains as much of a mystery as it did before I arrived.

One of the aspects of the volunteer project that appealed to me was the opportunity to live in an African village. I had really wanted to experience real life in Africa. And although I lived in a house in a neighborhood in Africa with no tourists around, I was unfortunately unable to experience this from an African perspective. I realized after a few weeks that I could only be a casual observer, a visitor, a Mzungu who can never truly experience what it is like to live here. I think it is quite possible that I could spend my whole life in Tanzania and still be a Mzungu. For the vast majority of Tanzanians this is not a derogatory term, but simply a fact. Maybe it is just the idea that I can buy a plane ticket to go somewhere else that sets me apart. But an invisible barrier exists that separates me from society at large. This does not mean that I cannot build relationships with other people that extend beyond this label, as I did not feel like a Mzungu at the orphanage. However, it limits my understanding of what it means to be Tanzanian. Trying to understand what it is like to be African is only one of the questions I grappled with.

As I witnessed people coping with tragedy and the resiliency of the human spirit, I wondered where people got the strength. How do those in Rwanda continue on after what happened? And how was that allowed to happen to begin with? Where does a six year old learn and find the courage to find a job to feed her sisters? How do people actually abandon their children even if they know it may mean they will have a better life? How often do they wonder how their children are? Why do we live in a world where a fourteen year old has to sell her body for food and then is punished with AIDS? And how do people who have suffered such things continue to smile? Despite all the difficult things I witnessed, poverty, AIDS, orphans, genocide victims, I did not seem to notice persistent unhappiness. Actually I do not think I could honestly make the statement that people in the US are any happier than people in Tanzania. And I realize that perspective is everything, but we, Americans, do not live entirely in a cave. We should be aware of poverty, AIDS and the struggles in the developing world. So why can't we look to this and realize how lucky we are? Yet, I already find myself slipping back into a world where insignificant things stress me out. And despite the beauty of my surroundings I am still sad being here without the children, forcing another question "Why, oh why is it so hard to adopt from a country with three million orphans?"

Since I have been back in the US, I find myself waking with the strangest sensation in the night. I have had jet lag before so I know this is different. I know where I am, but yet I am unsure where that is and I feel lost. I know my husband is lying next to me and for that I am very grateful, but I am really not at home either. I once read a book about a woman who supposedly discovered through hypnosis that she had been reincarnated about eighty times. She explained that the period between lives was spent resting in a dark, cool place until she was ready for the next life. As crazy as this sounds, this is exactly how I feel. I wake up as if I am in a waiting room somewhere between Tanzania and California. Stuck between two lives unsure of how to move forward and unaware as to how to continue a journey in both places. As I can never imagine not loving these children, will a part of me always be in between?

Even if no one else knows or recognizes it, for seven weeks I was a mother to Happy and Joy and perhaps to many more. And after several days of being home, I am realizing that I truly have a broken heart. It's been a long time since I have felt this way, but I have to admit I am grieving a loss. I miss my kids, and despite my loving husband and my precious dog, I am sad. And my personal great mystery is how to live a full life with these children and part of my heart halfway across the world? As Coronado and Mwanza could not be more different, I fear that my memories will slowly fade until I question whether my summer in Tanzania happened at all. So even if I it hurts, I am truly grateful that for now these are the only faces I see when I close my eyes.

Thank you so much to all of you who expressed interest in this blog. I have been told that some of you laughed and cried with me as my adventures unfolded, and I can only hope that you too also learned something as you made this journey with me. Perhaps this is inappropriate and very cheesy in a blog, but I really wanted to thank the people that made this trip possible for me. My husband, Mike, could not have been more supportive which reinforced why I married him. My parents have also been extremely emotionally supportive as well as helping to financially back this journey. I am eternally grateful to them for this. My former professor and friend, Lawrence generously provided a donation to HOM and covered my lodging while in Buswelu. My mother and father-in-law, my brother, and my grandmother also contributed funds to help me fulfill this dream. My friends, John and Darren, took care of my dog and Krissy looked after the house alleviating all my US worries. I am so lucky to have such friends and family. And thank you to all of you who have said you feel you have gotten to know these beautiful children and want to help make their world a better place. I am truly blessed to have people like you in my life.

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