Breaking up is hard to do

What I didn’t convey in my goodbye post before I left Tanzania was how angry I was. Our break up was messy and hateful and hurtful and completely mutual. We needed to be out of sight and out of mind of one another. I was in a bad place emotionally, mentally and physically and knew this was a relationship I had to step away from. I was filled with anger on that final flight; looking down at the land I had called home for four years, overflowing with joy to say I would never be back. It couldn’t get hurt me again as long as I was 30,000 feet up or 7,000 miles away from the toxicity that I was drowning in. Before I left I was telling my friends that I’d be boarding that plane at Kilimanjaro International Airport with two fingers in the air and eyes focused forward. I didn’t even want a final glance and/or goodbye. Kitty Kat out and Kitty Kat angry and Kitty Kat DONE. I wanted to come back to the US and be a Katherine who never even went to Tanzania. But, none of that would have been conducive to anyone to put in my goodbye because regardless, I would have been asked about Arusha, how I left things, what happened, and if I was happy to be home. Yes, I was angry when I left Tanzania but no, I was not happy to be home. I’m still not sure if I’m happy to be home. But no matter what I feel or how I felt, Tanzania is now part of who I am. When someone asks where I’m from, my initial response is “Africa” – for all intents and purposes, it’s just the truth. That’s where I grew up, it’s where I learned lessons, it’s where all of my favorite memories were created, and it’s where I made most of my lifelong friends. I’m from Africa. There’s no shaking that.

I’ve been back in the US for seven months and I’m still trying to figure out who I am here; Kat out of Africa. It’s still so strange being surrounded by people who have no idea what my day to day used to be. Not just that, so many will never be able to understand it! I accidentally left a bottle of white wine in my freezer overnight, so when I opened my freezer to a mess and missing cork, my first thought was “this wouldn't have happened if we had a power cut last night”. How can a sunny day make me nostalgic for an afternoon hand washing my clothes? What do I mean when I say I miss having a guard? Why does wearing shorts and showing my knees still make me so uncomfortable? And most importantly, where are the motorcycle taxis? If it’s nice out, I’d like to be on the back of a motorcycle. (linked to two previous blogs about how much I love motorcycle days in TZ)

So this is just my little update on being half way through my year long break up with Africa. I still think I’m there sometimes. I love always having a hot shower. My hair lacks serious volume, and by volume I mean dirt. I use my hands too much when I eat. Livestock here smells different than livestock in Arusha. I’m not in love with my life here, but I know it’s best that I’m State side. I’ll never have my old life in Arusha back. Pictures with Elizabeth and Gratitude still make my heart hurt. I can’t really read back on my blog. More days than not, I hate when Facebook notifies me of my “memories”. But I’m finally at a point where I can accept that my work life was not my entire life. There were so many other pieces and people that made Arusha home and will make Arusha the best vacation spot. Going back will mean hugging Remy and Nadia, dancing at Via Via, smoking hookah at Zest, having a shot with Aly, laying on the beaches of Zanzibar, talking about Land Rovers with Hans, Savannah, ugali maharage, pili pili, and seeing friends. I know how lucky I am to have such incredible memories to look back on and such amazing vacations to look forward to. When I finally get to vacation in Tanzania, I’ll actually just be going home. Tanzania will always be home.

Kwaheri Tanzania

First, it recently came to my attention that I haven’t been totally clear about what I’ve created and what I’ve lost, and the difference between Hill Crest and “the project” to which many of you have so generously donated. Hill Crest was the school where I volunteered, fell in love, eventually took over and recently lost to Elizabeth. It was a pre existing and established pre primary school. Back in 2012 when this started, I decided to build a separate building for Hill Crest. It is across town and tucked away in a different village. This was going to be a boarding campus so the location suited us quite well! Fast forward to present day and following all the drama I don’t need to get back into, Elizabeth has Hill Crest and I have “the project” – said building I’ve been fundraising for and working on for years.

The project idea has changed from being a boarding school (regulations basically forbid it, something I found out amidst the drama last year) to a community center. This building that you all have donated to is still in my control, and it has SO much potential. I couldn’t be happier to be a community center instead of a school; we can benefit so many more people in a number of ways if we open it up as a community center. This place is massive…there’s no way even photos can do it justice. We have four classrooms, a dining hall, a kitchen, six toilets, two offices, and a seamstress/social enterprise room. The possibilities are endless and the government is starting to develop the properties directly opposite our land which means there will be more people coming to the area who will be able to benefit from our programs.

After being burned by so many people time and time again, I decided to turn to someone who has worked for a close friend for several years. We met and I knew he would be the key to success at the project. He is business oriented, eager to help and see the programs succeed and be my sounding board. I had some ideas that we discussed and he was always quick to reply. I’m so grateful to have someone who was referred to me by a friend instead of giving someone new a chance…lesson(s) learned - never again!

After meeting Hendry, it became clear that I needed to take a quick break before I really started these programs and wouldn’t have a chance for a while to go home or take a rest! Shortly after my meeting with Hendry, some discussion about a job opportunity in the States came up. After a skype call and a small handful of emails exchanged, I declined; it wasn’t time. I finally had someone reliable to help me start these programs. I went home to relax for two and a half weeks and for the first time, I was so happy to be there. But I was also excited to get back to Arusha! So that’s why, when I had a lunch meeting about the potential job in the States, I said again that I needed two more years in Arusha before I could feel ready to take a job at home. My time at home was full of love. Shopping and lunch dates with my mom, a perfect afternoon meet up with my college roommate, a history lesson with my grandfather (always fascinating), pool days and yummy food. When my two and a half weeks was up, I felt energized and enthusiastic and excited to get back to Arusha and get to work! My friend picked me up from the airport and we had awesome conversation about both of our futures and how we could work together to help each other with our respective projects and businesses. I was happy to be back in my Arusha home.

It was probably day four or five that I woke up feeling like a big NOPE bat hit me square in the back of the head. I knew that this isn’t where I am meant to be anymore…at least for right now. I have been doing things very out of character, waking up at nine or ten then going back to sleep until noon. I’m usually up at 6:30am, never falling back asleep and ready for the day by about 8. Even when I slept until noon, I still had trouble getting out of bed. I drive through town and the chaos I used to find charming is just frustrating now. My feelings about almost everything have completely changed and it’s become abundantly clear that I’m finally feeling the burn from the last year and a half. I pushed through a lot of hurt and bad situations without looking back but my cold hands are finally starting to feel the fire that has been burning under me for a year and a half. I messaged my closest friends and told them how done I felt and of course they supported me and assured me that it’s okay to be burnt out. I messaged another explaining that helping people just shouldn’t be this hard and of course she understood. My parents proved again to be the most incredible humans and reassured me that they fully support any decision I make.

After several nights with no sleep and some big chats with my closest friends and parents, it’s kind of a no brainer that I need to get out for a while. I reached out, ate my words and accepted the internship at home that I’m thrilled about. My one way ticket home is booked for Friday and I start work on Monday. I’m so ready but getting increasingly nervous about this change. I still have plans for the project. We will start small, using two of the classrooms as after school study centers for students from government schools who are falling behind. There are a number of reasons students don’t do well in school. Sometimes they have to spend so much time walking home that by the time they get there, the sun has set and they can’t do their homework because it’s too dark and there is no electricity. Maybe after school a student has to do house chores which take up study time. Other times they just need some extra attention to succeed. Once that program is running smoothly, we will develop another. It might be another student program or an adult program. We will just have to see with time what will be the most effective.

At first I thought I wanted to pass the building onto an organization that I believed in but after visiting a street kids center in Moshi last week, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I still have so much faith in my ideas and programs and even though I’m going home, I am not ready to give up on what I’ve worked so hard for. I’ll be partnering with a Spanish woman here who has a Maasai school out in the bush. She is a good friend of two people I count on, so I feel really confident about it. We will meet this week to discuss what she will do while I’m gone, and how we will implement my programs and some ideas she has. Her moral standards line up perfectly with mine; refusing to make a cushioned life for ourselves at the cost of the locals, providing sustainable programs that truly benefit the community, no voluntourists and an organization with integrity. Also, she lives in the same village with her Tanzanian lawyer husband – a win all around J

As much as things could start looking up over here, I know that I’m making the right decision and I’m truly excited for it. The hard parts will be leaving Remy and leaving the place that brought and reunites me with four of my five best friends. Considering my tribe consists of people from US, Canada, Scotland, Australia, and Israel, the big question mark of when I’ll see them again makes me sad.  Saying goodbye to my friends here is going to be another level of sad as well, a few people here have been my lifeline and family, and I’m so grateful for those friendships.

I feel so lucky to have parents who have supported me in so many ways, from the day I brought up coming here to booking my one way flight home and everything in between. They have raised my siblings and me to truly live. They’ve raised us to work hard, make tough decisions and just be good people. I can’t imagine the person I would be if they didn’t let me come here. It wouldn’t have been possible without them so I’m so thankful that they have been supportive the whole way through. They’ve experienced the highs and lows with me. They did the camping safari, walks through the village, ate the local food, braved the days with no power and/or water and always kept an open mind. Dad got to participate in a village water give away and mom got to be involved with Remy – a really high high and really low low. Dad was in court with me and meetings with some of the top officials in Arusha. My parents never swayed me to stay or go, to give up or keep pushing, but they’ve always had my back and I’m so lucky for that. I’ve learned, lived and loved more in four years in Tanzania than I would have in the States. I wouldn’t wish some of my experiences on my worst enemy (actually, let's be real...I probably would) and if I could go back and do things differently, I absolutely would! But if I could grab everyone I know and bring them over here, I would because the good always outweighed the bad and this is such a special place.

Thanks for the support over four years from everyone back home, I’m so glad to have been able to share so much of my life here with y’all – I’ll see you soon!

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If you go back a ways into my blog posts, you will find one that begins with an issue weighing heavy on my heart. I said I would get into it at a later time, but never wanted to face that exact problem, so I never did.  Now, I have no choice but to.

The last several months have been more of a struggle than I’ve let anyone know. Back when I made that blog post, issues with Elizabeth had just begun. Any of you who have closely followed my work and life here know how much she meant to me. To say she was my mama, my sister, my friend, my guide, my everything here, would be an understatement. She, in addition to Hill Crest, completely captured my heart. We talked about everything. Just like two best friends, I stood in the bathroom with her while she took a pregnancy test (which was positive, and seven months later Sharon was born!), we gossiped, she did things like teach me to cook, she gave me relationship advice, we shopped together, ate together, she helped with my washing, and I did anything I could to help her, though she rarely needed help – a one woman show, that one. Usually my contribution was playing Florence and the Machine any chance I got. She loves Florence. 

Anyways, when things went sour with Isaac (they were already split up at this time), we put in the contract that he had to abandon everything but she would continue to work with me at Hill Crest. I knew she didn’t know what had happened and still to this day believe she had no idea what he was doing back then. Fast forward a couple of months…one day a teacher came to me saying that a parent had complained about a school fee payment issue, something not really worth explaining on here. From then on I started paying closer attention to the money coming into Hill Crest from the parents that could afford to pay some school fees. One day there was the equivalent of $100 collected, so I decided to take it and buy the supplies we needed for school. After all, in the contract, the school was mine so I should be the one overseeing the money. Previously I’d let Elizabeth take it because I trusted her to hold it and use it for salaries, supplies and little things like teacher’s breakfast etc. Because of the rumor, I decided to take the money this day and as soon as I took it, she changed. It was like a different person was sitting in front of me. I had a valid reason for  taking it; I had the car so could buy bulk exercise books, chalk, teaching aids, etc and eliminate the transportation costs, but everything about her changed. In that moment, I knew she had been stealing the money, and she was mad that she couldn’t have this bit as well. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way her face changed that moment or how her body language shifted. I didn’t recognize the woman sitting in front of me anymore and my heart broke.

Issue after issue, rumor after rumor came up over the course of about a month.  Elizabeth showed up less and less, Gratitude stopped coming to school and parents came in complaining day after day. There was so much buzzing around that I finally had to hold a meeting with all the parents to get the information and give them the proper updates on everything. Elizabeth still had the keys to Hill Crest, and despite getting a very healthy salary, I found out she was coming in the evenings and taking food that was meant to be for the kids’ lunches.  I was also told that she was telling parents in the village that Hill Crest was shutting down and that they should shift their kids. These factors among a handful of others made for a hectic meeting with about 60 concerned parents led by the head teacher and myself. Issues came up like, if she had already moved Gratitude to another school what will stop her from coming to Hill Crest and poisoning the food? What happened to Isaac? What is the future of Hill Crest? We assured them that that day, all the locks would be changed and I would be the one opening and closing the school every day, Hill Crest was not going to die, and that they can count on me and the head teacher to keep their kids fed, educated and safe. Considering I was the only consistent face over the previous two and a half years, I had most parents on my side with the help of the head teacher. 

So for a while I opened and closed the school every day, then my teachers and I split up the opening and closing. But we always left together and a parent living right outside the school kept an eye on things for me if I didn’t keep the keys overnight. 

Eventually we learned that Elizabeth had taken the registration book and called every. single. Hill Crest parent and told them it was shutting down and they should shift their kids. All because I took the school fees that day. She had scared my head teacher in such a way that she would hardly talk to me, and if I had to approach Elizabeth about something, she wanted her name completely left out of it and didn’t even want to be around. Word finally came out that Elizabeth had started a little school secretly, which I didn’t understand. She had told all the parents to shift their kids there, and was stealing Hill Crest money for this new secret school. Why? I don’t know. She had clearly been planning a demise of Hill Crest after I took the money that day. Man, money can change people. Anyways, things settled down, Elizabeth was out of the picture (though she left with some Hill Crest valuables that we just had to give up on getting back), we only lost about six students of the 80+, and the overall environment at Hill Crest was better than ever. It was such a happy, honest, fun, positive place to be. It was the happiest place on earth, even more than Bonnaroo and Disneyland combined. I don’t remember when exactly Elizabeth left the picture completely, but over the next handful of months there were little issues coming up.

Word got out that Mama Remy was the one who, at the big parents meeting, brought up Elizabeth potentially poisoning the food when she was sneaking in at night. This we know because Mama Remy came to school one afternoon with gashes and bruises, crying to us that Elizabeth had shown up the night before with two men who roughed her up and threatened to kill her if she talked about Elizabeth again. Everything Mama Remy said had to be taken with a grain of salt, but this one both my head teacher and I thought might be true. Mama Remy had never come to school claiming something like this before, drunk or sober. We just told Mama Remy to take care, as we couldn’t do anything because there was no definitive proof that Elizabeth had done this, and of course Mama Remy had a nasty history with alcohol abuse. 

Fast forward a few months, we lost a few more kids and had some small issues but it was all okay...just annoying and of course still a heartache. My head teacher told me that she had seen the sign for Elizabeth’s school, so of course I went to see. Some people wondered why I had such an issue with Elizabeth starting a separate secret school…it wasn’t that she did it, it was how. She had support not only from myself but from other former volunteers, so why did it have to be a secret? And why was she stealing? And why did she have to try to take down Hill Crest in the process? Of course, I went to find the school with my friend who works for the volunteer company I came with back in 2012. Literally as we passed the sign for Shekina Glory, Elizabeth’s school, my friend got a call from her bosses asking if she knew what happened with Elizabeth and me, that she was threatening to sue the volunteer company for bringing in someone who stole her school. We went right away to the office and I met with the volunteer organization directors. They pushed me to just leave Hill Crest, it’s her school, how can I let her suffer, etc. It turned into a heated discussion and they called Elizabeth to come in. She had seen them a few days before and clearly manipulated them into feeling sorry for her, making things up about her lifestyle that I knew weren’t true but portrayed immense suffering. After a lot of talking, yelling, and tears, Elizabeth said she would leave it and that we could be peaceful. I was so hurt and angry that I just walked out. She was after money, and I was just “a volunteer who came and stole the school.” She told them she didn’t know what she was signing when she signed the contract. But she did, because the meeting was in Swahili, the contract was in Swahili, and I told her that just because the legal documents said Hill Crest was mine, we would be working hand in hand. 

From April 2015 until about two months ago, I was fighting her. Dodging police, settling rumors, talking to village officers, securing the school, and getting people from Isaac’s debt off my back. Just this year, police have come knocking at my gate twice. In December we had some issues with the health department following a cholera outbreak. We had seven violations, small things like having plastic bowls instead of steel, the medicine cabinet was in the kitchen, our cook was wearing sandals, we didn’t have an office. Easy fixes. We had a really good meeting with the department head and he agreed not to shut us down because none of our violations were bad. During the holiday, the staff came to school and did a massive clean out and rearranged things to show the health department that we would fix the violations. We opened in January like normal, but shortly after were officially shut down. I went to meet the head of the health department and bribed him to answer my questions. He was given a massive bribe to shut us down, you can guess by who (with the help of former volunteers who continually made me out to be the bad guy). I refused to give another pay out so I contacted my lawyer and he told me the legal action we would have to take to reopen. 

During the time we were making moves to reopen, and our official reopening, I hit what I thought was rock bottom. In December, my former rowing teammate at Clemson was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I knew that was a nasty cancer, but…hellooo…it was Brittany Burns. The funny, best party throwing, tough as nails, take no sh*t girl that I always secretly admired so much but also kind of feared. She would be fine, if anyone was going to beat cancer flawlessly but with a punch, it was going to be Brittany. I occasionally checked her page for health updates, and they were all so positive that I maintained a cool attitude about it; she was definitely going to be fine. But on the morning of February 1^st, I opened Facebook to the absolute shock of Brittany’s passing.  I melted into my bed and lost control. School things got delayed because I locked myself in my house for the next four days and spent the next probably two weeks just trying not to cry all the time. My snapchat, instagram and facebook were flooded with articles by People Magazine, New York Times Daily, In Touch Weekly, and more posts than you can imagine from the many, many people that loved Brittany so much. 

After finally getting to a point of basic functioning, we were at a point of getting Hill Crest open again. Two days before our reopening, I got a message from my head teacher…”Hill Crest has collapsed. Elizabeth came and took the school back.”

Excuse me, what? When I asked questions, my head teacher only said “that’s the way it is. I can’t say anything else.” If you knew my head teacher, you would know she always had something to say and a way to help us come back on top. Elizabeth clearly put something over her that made her afraid to talk to me.  Because of this, I had and still have huge hesitations with just appearing at school, I don’t want to risk the safety of my staff. Well…former staff. So after that, I said fine. She can have it. I’m so tired…I didn’t tell anyone for about a week, I just cooped up in my house again trying to process and figure out what was happening, making pro con lists in my head, and tiptoeing around the feeling of regret. While I was in hibernation over the Hill Crest/Elizabeth thing, my mom messaged me about the death of Mike Haney. The single most incredible man on this earth. I knew he was battling cancer also, but, again, wasn’t expecting to lose him. Cue actual rock bottom, to the point my friend had to take a day off work just to be with me. I discussed (sobbed) everything out loud with her, and she agreed that walking away from Hill Crest was probably the right move at this time. It makes me sick to think about Elizabeth winning this…but 16 months of fighting has taken a toll. Even with the support of my parents and friends and family here and in the US, I’m tired. I’ve been here fighting all of this on my own for 16 months. Other people have helped and been around, but nobody else has been the one sitting through what I have. From being arrested to heated meetings with my lawyer and others, being threatened, having the police rocking up at school or my house, still getting messages and calls constantly regarding Isaac’s debts, the Remy/Mama Remy situation, losing people at home and missing big events with friends from high school and college, it has exhausted me. 

So, a few weeks ago marks the end of my involvement at Hill Crest. I’m finally able to accept it and know that it is the right decision. I can focus on ACEC and put my full attention towards developing an amazing organization. I can finally put effort into making my relationship work. I still get to see and be here for the kids I moved here for, and I will be able to leave Arusha once in a while without feeling guilty for living instead of putting all my money into Hill Crest. Most importantly, I can stop fighting.  Right now, I am trying to focus on myself and getting to a point mentally where I can hit the ground running with ACEC and the project, but it’s going to take time. I am slowly developing the Adult English program, but am taking the proper time to take care of myself after everything that has happened. 

Everyone has been so supportive of me and I’m so grateful for that, and I hope that you will continue to support me when I get ACEC up and running. I know that it’s going to be an incredible organization if it’s done right, and for it to be done right, I have to get my focus and motivation back. So bare with me for a couple more weeks while I relax and get things in order for the next big move with ACEC.tz. 

All my love,

Kat

3.3.2016

My dad just left after a quick visit to hug me and help me get organized to begin our adult programs with ACEC.tz.  There were little things he wanted to do while he was here, like get my janky but perfect little car fixed. More mornings than not, it has trouble starting. Five months ago, I moved 1.5km off the main road and up the hill where it gets really cold at night and my little ’97 Suzuki Vitara does not appreciate that. When it doesn’t start right away, I have to spend on average 25/30 minutes trying to start it, warming it up, picking weeds, trying to start it, getting the shamba care taker to come try, pick some more weeds, try it again, cross my fingers, then close my eyes and hope it will catch as it tries to turn over. It always does, but it’s a pain sometimes.  Anyways, my dad experienced this one day and was over it after just that one time :P so my friend took my car the next morning to get a full service. Apparently at home that would have been a few hour job. I got my car back three days later. Dad was surprised, I wasn’t…what did he expect?! 

On his last morning we woke up to complete cloud cover and pretty heavy rain followed by drizzle. Since I moved and have a car, I don’t have any taxi drivers on call anymore so I texted my motorcycle driver and asked him to send someone because my car was still at the workshop. The only issue is that in order for him to send someone, he had to go down the hill and find someone then direct them to my house. What’s the problem with that? In downpour, a motorcycle and mud road isn’t an ideal combination. What was supposed to be a busy day that started early in the morning actually turned into lounging around the house until about 2 when the rain cleared up enough for my motorcycle driver to go and get us a taxi. Our hope to go to the project was squashed as it was raining too hard out there all morning. Last time I went out following downpour, I got stuck on the black mud road and slid right into a patch of maize. Thankfully I just had to pay six guys to take off their shoes, roll up their pants and spend about 25 minutes pushing me out. If that had happened in the taxi, we would have been doomed. 

Dad and I were talking about how our day had to change because of all these factors, and I realized again that these things aren’t just “the way of life” for friends and family in the States. When it rains in the US, sure it’s annoying but you put on your rain boots, grab the umbrella, get in the car and go on with your day. There are two options for my day when it rains… First, stay home until it stops and hope power comes back on or doesn’t go off. Second, put on my sandals because they’re the only shoes I have, open my gate, take my car out, close my gate, turn on my one functioning windshield wiper and grab my rag so I can wipe my window when it gets foggy because I don’t have a working air system. I go down my road avoiding the mud that will pull me into a ditch and drive over rocks that take a toll on my tires for a full 1.5km. On a sunny day, it takes me 8 minutes to get from my house to the paved road….double that on a rainy day. If I go to Hill Crest on a rainy day, I do that exact trek down my road, turn left at the main road then do the dirt road trek again up the other side until I get there. There are four ways to get to Hill Crest on a dry day. There is only one way to get there in the rain by car…if it hasn’t been raining the entire night. If I am going to town or to use wifi, it’s a more pleasant drive than a dry day because there are less people running into the road and less motorcycles weaving through traffic, but I still have to keep wiping down my windshield. Also, my windows are all tinted (it’s safer that way) so in order to see out my side mirrors, I have to roll down my windows half way which means I’m getting rained on. My roof is a little leaky so if it sits in the rain for a long time, my seat is wet. 

It’s all fine, none of it even phases me anymore unless there’s someone (Shayna) in the passenger seat barking at me for how bad my windshield wipers are. I suppose that’s fair, being able to see is important. One day she even had to throw water on my windshield while I was driving because my windshield was dusty and there was just a sprinkle of rain; not enough to clean off my windshield but actually making it harder to see. So she had to find a bottle of water, lean out her window and get enough water across to my side so that my windshield wiper could do its’ job. Maybe that’s why wiper fluid is a thing? I’ll probably never know for sure as long as I’m here.

What I just described is how I get my day going on a rainy day. Me and my car in the rain. Life doesn’t stop for me (unless my car won’t start) but life stops for many when it rains. I have the luxury to grab my wallet, stick my purse in my car and go do some shopping in the rain or shine. If a vegetable stand near Hill Crest runs out of vegetables on a rainy day, chances are that shop owner’s day is over and they will miss out on a day of income. To restock a little vegetable stand, the (usually it’s a woman) mama has to put all her stuff away, find someone to watch the kids or just leave them and walk the 20 minutes on the mud road to wait for public transportation. She will take it to the stand in town which is another 20 minute walk through town to the main vegetable market which is only mostly covered in tarps. I haven’t been to the market on a rainy day but I imagine it’s a fairly miserable place to go, especially when you’ve got to manage to get bulk vegetables back to the village by walking, riding, walking, etc in the rain and mud. Some people can afford to pack up a motorcycle and get home with their vegetables that way, but many can’t spend $1.50 when the alternative is $0.20. Motorcycle drivers don’t get as many customers, as people generally just aren’t in a rush to get anywhere when it’s raining. If kids don’t have a rain jacket or rubber boots, chances are they won’t go to school. People hanging in town trying to sell things to tourists don’t get the same opportunity as a sunny day. These are just a couple things that change with the weather, and something else that has just grown to be the norm for me. As well as one of the handful of things I hope to bring attention to that may be foreign for y’all in the States!

Not What, But Who - A Delayed Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was a week ago and I’m not a big holiday, birthday, intentional celebration person so I wasn’t too bothered by being away. But as the day always does, it had me thinking about how much I have to be thankful for. More than that, who I have to be thankful for. I’ve got friends who know me inside and out, who can read me like a book and bring out the best in such different ways and while I'm so lucky to have so many incredible friends, I'm going to take this time to highlight four. Relative to my black and white personality, I feel like they reflect two very different sides of me as well. 

When I left the US, I left the Rosie to my Sophia Grace. Baby Lauren - my best friend, favorite friendship story, the best person to road trip with, and the person who taught me that separation anxiety is a very, very real thing. I don’t think there are many people who bond over a lunch date and Fergilicious the way we did during the summer of 2010 when we were scared newbies in college. We made the best “not roommates” before we became official roommates after that long freshman year when we had to figure out how to never leave each other’s sides despite doing different sports, classes and living one floor away from one another. We never had to discuss that we would have our meals together, go out together, get “appetizers” for the three minute ride home from the grocery store and officially live together as soon as we could. The jokes about my lack of feelings started in high school and continued in college when Lauren would try to get me to talk about things going on. Sometimes I would text her on a bad day, “I think I’m having feelings” which she always loved. Now I understand the importance of having someone who will always listen to what’s going on in your head, and genuinely want to know also. I’m lucky to still have Lauren by my side when something goes wrong and I just need a familiar voice from home. We attended my brother’s wedding together after over a year without seeing one another and it confirmed that even though Clemson led me to Arusha on a very twisted path, this friendship was the best thing I got from Clemson. To this day, there’s nobody I’d rather have a sleepover or Sunday movie day with than Lauren. So, Baby Lauren, thanks for the PBD dates, concerts, nights out, real talks, gas station adventures, for being the vital part of an unforgettable college experience and always being by my side, even when we are nearly 8,000 miles apart.

If you’ve heard about my time in Arusha, you’ve probably heard about my Canadian soul sister, my spirit animal, my absolute, Jenna. I met her in 2013 and by the first impression, I never thought we would be friends – she was so. cool. As it turned out, we went to the bar together that night and the most amazing friendship came to life and for that I am so grateful. I lived with her all over Arusha for several weeks that first summer we met…then again the following year when she came back. She pulled me out of my shell even more and showed me honesty, freedom, and an openness to everything life has to offer. Never turn down an opportunity, be the best friend you can be. Always. The next year she returned to Arusha and lived with me. She knew Hill Crest, Isaac and Elizabeth, my friends, my personal life, and most importantly that I only like my toast warm; if a piece of bread can even be called toast, it’s too toasted. There is nobody else who has seen me in my highest highs, who completely understands my lowest lows, and nobody else who can make me weep so much at the thought of reuniting. So, Jenna, thanks for making me all those pieces of toast. For always making me laugh, for loosening me up and being a pivotal part of what Arusha has become - home. My love for you is immeasurable. I am so happy to have you back, even if just for two weeks.

If you have heard about what’s gone on this year, you have probably heard about Shayna and Mhairi – the other two of my four ride or dies. There couldn’t have been a more perfect time for these two to come into my life. When my world was falling apart, one hazy but unforgettable weekend away with them was the beginning of it’s coming together. For me to be so comfortable with two people so quickly says it all. There is no way to put my relationship with these girls into words and do it any justice, but I truly don’t know the mental, physical or emotional state I would be in if it weren’t for these two this year. We were all going through something but most days we spent together were nothing short of our own convoluted version of perfect. Our moments of weakness turned to jokes about our Truman Show life, because none of it could possibly be real. We are Arusha’s Savannah’s girls who always had all the fun, all the feels and all the love. Shay Shay and V, thanks for always being down for a drink after a horrible day, giving me some of my favorite memories, for never judging me for that time I snored myself awake, and for being the best two spoons anyone could ask for. I can't wait to See You Again.

Thank you girls for being home. For getting me through all the messes, and making sure I remember that the most important things are my work and my sanity. And that as long as I get my work done, there’s no harm in spending a couple more dollars for a couple more drinks because if a few bad hangovers is what I leave Arusha regretting, then it will have all been worth it. You’ve all helped shape me into the person I am today, someone I am so proud to be because I’m lucky enough to call you four my friends.