Tomorrow I am going to Saba Saba ('Saba' means 'seven' in Kiswahili, and the festival takes place in the ten days surrounding 07/07- or, 'Saba Saba'), an annual East African trade fair, with Pepy. I'm especially excited about this because it is rumored that traders from Zambia, Mozambique, Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, and Kenya will all be in attendance, in addition to giraffes and lions and cheetahs and stuff. If you don't hear from me again until I'm in Doha, it's because I spent all my money on knick knacks at Saba Saba and didn't have any left to buy internet vouchers.
It's hard to reflect back on my trip quite yet- much like painting a picture, it's easier to understand the whole thing when you stand back and look at it from a different angle. I know it has been amazing- I have learned so much, and met so many incredible people from around the world. I look forward to coming home and telling my stories, as well as experiencing the contrast between our two cultures. I've been told by those who traveled Africa before me that the culture shock really sets in upon return to America, and so I am preparing.
I am eagerly awaiting my return home for several reasons. One, I miss my family and friends dearly. Two, I miss the mountains, especially now that it's summertime and I'm seeing all of the pictures of swimming and hiking and camping that people are putting on Facebook (I imagine this is how cats must feel watching birds behind glass). Finally, I am simply excited to get started on this next chapter in my life- I'm going back to school, and moving into my first apartment. I've always been one to enjoy transitions; changing my lifestyle and surroundings is soul-cleansing and helps me to stay focused on what is important.
As always with moving forward, however, something must be left behind. I have come to think of the Kawishes as family, and it breaks my heart to be leaving and knowing that it could be years before I see them again. I wouldn't change anything about my experiences with them, or at the school, or throughout Dar Es Salaam and Tanzania. I feel I have only scratched the surface of a rich and ancient culture, and though I know it isn't going anywhere, I know that it is still a developing nation and that it has rocky roads ahead, as do we all. I wish I could continue to be here and witness this growth, but right now my best shot at aiding the children of this country is to go home and use what I've learned to develop strategies and resources, and help out those who want to volunteer as well.
I want to thank all of you who have given me support throughout this journey. Even if I haven't shown it here as often as I had hoped to, my experiences have been life-altering and phenomenal, and I know none of it would have been possible if it weren't for the help I've gotten from every single one of you. I want to thank those back home who have been especially helpful since I've been here- those who have listened to my frustrations, rejoiced alongside me, and given encouragement and solace when I've been especially homesick:
Evie, no words can describe. Mainly because we don't use words, but Channel 3. There are a million reasons I am proud to call you my best friend, and you've exhibited every single one of them since I've been here.
Josh, whose patience and late-night tendencies have helped maintain my sanity more times than I can count, and whose friendship has been an anchor.
My mom and dad, for being my pillars and sources of great advice and comfort, and whose flexibility and selfless love knows no bounds.
My grandparents, for their wonderful letters giving news and love from home that, were they written on paper, would be worn from over-reading.
I love you all. Thank you for your support and patience, and I'll see you Stateside in a few days :)
Emily
