September 18, 2012
Getting to Know You Part II: Elaine [Uprooted] in Arusha

Home is: a lot of things.  Locationally, home is Redlands, CA and has been La Jolla and Berkeley, but currently is: Arusha, Tanzania.  

Earliest Arusha Memory: When I came to Arusha for the first time last summer, on the drive from Kilimanjaro Airport into town, I was riding in a dusty Land Rover, windows down zooming past these golden fields.  It felt like a movie.

The last film you saw: Movies hit the theaters late around these parts.  But you can go to the cinema at Njiro Complex if you’re feening the experience.  I’ve only been once since I’ve arrived.  Don’t laugh, but I saw The Expendables 2 movie with two male co-workers of mine.  It was so bad that I thought it was trying to be funny by being self-aware of how awful it was, but it didn’t fully commit.  So instead, it was just really bad.   

Shops you rely on: Back in the states I’m a big fan of pillaging my sisters’ closets, vintaging, the State Street boutiques in Redlands, and Topshop—though I’m fairly inconsistent and I go where I feel a calling.  In reality, I actually only rely on Trader Joes and local open air markets for fresh fruit.  I’m not above spending whole paychecks on snack foods.  Here in Tanzania, I’m not doing too much clothes shopping, but you can get some ridiculously good deals on just about ANYTHING at the second hand market off Sokoine Rd.  In terms of satiating the desires of my western palette [i.e. Nuttella, yogurt, dark chocolate], I usually head to either Shop Rite in town proper or Village Super Market at Njiro Complex.      

Advice you would give to a tourist:

  • I have a lot of this, but I’ll give a few big things.  You will be called “mzungu” which means foreigner—because you’ll definitely stick out like a sore thumb.  Don’t get offended, just embrace that you are an outsider and make the most of it.  That’s not to say that you’ll be the only mzungu walking around.  Arusha is a major tourist hub during high safari season and there are plenty of NGOs operating around here staffed with ex-pats (much like myself) if you’re ever in search of some solidarity.       
  • This one is for the ladies.  There are three types of boobs in Arusha: shoulder boobs, knee boobs, and your boob boobs.  While no one will scold you for it, just understand that if you expose any of the three, especially gratuitously, you will get even more unwanted attention from both men and women.  
  • Leave the lodge, leave the hotel, and explore.  A lot of times, safari lodges and hotels in Arusha are bubbles that have restaurants, spas, convenience stores—all inclusive.  Many tourists will go on safari and then go straight back to their hotels.   This will give you no sense of the people or place of Tanzania and you pretty much may as well have stayed at home.  Get out there.  Tanzania isn’t Disneyland—there’s more to it than its main attractions.

The best meal you’ve had in Arusha: I’m approaching this question in terms of local fare.  Arusha isn’t big on assigning places physical addresses; and most of the local dives don’t have websites—so you might just have to take my word on these and ask around. 

  • Chips Mayai with Mishkaki from this place across from Hotel Bristol near the Torch Roundabout: Chips mayai is basically a french fry omelette and mishkaki are beef kabobs.  You can get this meal at almost any Tanzanian place in Arusha—but this stand is exceptional.  They cook it with the perfect amount of egg, crispy chips, well-marinated meat, and the pili pili (hot sauce) makes it.  
  • The Mixed Grill & Salads from Khan’s on Mosque Street:  Spare auto parts shop by day, best Indian BBQ chicken by night  Try everything at the salad bar, and don’t miss out on the bright red carrots.  They will clear your sinuses and probably make you cry but they taste so good they’re worth it.  
  • Small Bites (Falafel, Pakora, Samosas, and milk desserts) from Yogis Restaurant on Bread Corner off of Sokoine Rd.:  Get there early in the morning when everything is fresh—and go to town because they price their orders by the kilo rather than the piece.  From past experiences, if it sounds like you’re ordering too much you are ordering just enough.                                                                    

Favorite Cocktails: I don’t drink a lot of complicated cocktails here unless I’m at a mzungu restaurant or bar simply because knowing my Swahili, I’d probably order something strong or disgusting or both on accident.  But my favorite beers are Safari and Windhoek and if I’m feeling slightly sassy I’ll sometimes order Konyagi (the spirit of Tanzania—I honestly don’t know what kind of alcohol it is) with lime on the rocks.

The most romantic place in Arusha: In the absence of the light pollution of my native land, any open air space in Arusha at night where you can see how epic the stars pretty much always takes my breath away.  If I had to make a specific recommendation, I’d say to cozy up on a couch at Blue Heron.  It’s elegant, decadent, and star lit. 

The best place for a night out with friends: I’m a bit of a homebody, but I’ll give you a few from my more lively days.  For dancing and drinking: Pinpoint and Babylon.  For drinking and talking: Mawenzi Bar at Mount Meru Hotel for happy hour or if you’re feeling something more casual and want to be around a lot of tipsy tourists, Empire Sports Bar.

Currently listening toAlligator // The National 

What are you doing right now?:  Currently sitting in the SIC office, alternating between sending out work e-mails, this blog, and fearing the impending future of being jobless and stateside.

In Five Years:  Probably in a PhD program, helping Miraya run her fabulous company, still advocating for HIV/AIDS awareness, still seeking self, maybe dating an intellectual hipster with zero pretense and a solid music collection, and on my way to a self-earned Birkin bag.

And if you don’t know, now you know.

-Elaine

August 27, 2012

A very short post on my part tonight.  I usually don’t particularly enjoy running for such extended periods of time, but I do enjoy being a part of the fight against HIV/AIDS.  So I will run, jog, or get a co-worker to roll me in the fetal position past the finish line of this 5K.  If you can find it in your heart or your wallet, give a few bucks for women living and fighting HIV/AIDS here.  Give for women living and fighting HIV/AIDS in a society that uses the virus as another false reason to blame them for their own disempowerment.    

Give here:  http://www.razoo.com/story/Elainearusha5k

August 19, 2012
I’ve been gone too long. I’m sorry. I’ve been gone too long. Can I still come home?

Home.  Ever since I moved out of my parents house for college that four plus some years ago, my sense of home has been off and harder to put my finger on.  My imagining of home has been shifty—it’s spatial, social, and most notably temporal—informed largely by my own complicated feelings of nostalgia.  Home, in all it’s figurative and literal warmth is a thing I’ve made from afar.

In the fiercest moments when I hated La Jolla as a heart broken 17 year old, home was a tree on a playground at Mariposa Elementary where I used to sit and write love songs in Redlands’ dry heat.  Or lying in bed next to my sisters who told me that it would make sense some day.  When I moved to Berkeley that first summer, I lived alone in a mostly empty apartment that I sublet from a friend—a twenty minute walk from campus in the dark after my film class let out at night, a dinner for one, spotty internet—I’d watch a heavy rotation of the same five DVDs over and over and wonder if my dream of going to Cal was worth giving up walking the sands at Blacks and withstanding long distance relationships with my best friends for the rest of college.  My sense of home has always rested in distant hearts and feels.

Being back in Tanzania this time in particular, however, has felt a little different. When I’m out in the field, I live in my own house.  It’s in a ward forty-five minutes outside of Arusha called Kikwe, in a village called Maweni.  I have no electricity.  I have an out-house style bathroom in which one must squat, concentrate, and exhibit an excellent understanding of geometry to hit the mark.  I spend afternoons walking around the ward to visit my volunteers’ teachings or listening to music while reading on my porch.  Instead of dodging eye contact like I do back in California, I greet everyone that passes by and we exchange as much conversation as my variety of gesticulations and limited Swahili vocabulary allows.  Night comes around and the view of the stars from from the corn fields that surround the house is so beautiful that I’m doing violence to them right now because language can’t adequately describe the feel of them.  I know a lot of this doesn’t sound like real life, but for small moments, I’m arrested by an unmistakable sense of “this is where you are right now.”  I’m present.  Staring at them is about the only time I’m able to find some quiet inside of a mind so accustomed to long.  Home.

-Elaine

  

  

July 8, 2012

Finally made it to Tanzania after three flights.  I currently only possess what I have in my carry-on at the moment which luckily included my camera and laptop.  My luggage, dildos and all, didn’t make it on the TINY plane I took from Ethiopia for my last leg of the trip.  And of course, it didn’t make it to the airport luggage claim until late my second night.  Yesterday was a public holiday and today is Sunday, so the office has been closed.  I bought a few things to wear and wash with, but be thankful, Tumblrs are not scratch and sniff—because I’m wearing the same pair of jeans I left Los Angeles in for about the sixth straight day in the row—which ordinarily wouldn’t be so bad had I not been out driving through  the rural areas yesterday.  Let me just say, wind, dust, and sweat leave a little bit of an impression.  

That situation aside, I loved visiting the village yesterday.  I crashed a meeting for the second volunteer program of the summer that’s being held in a ward called Bwawani.  I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves for the most part, but I will belabor the obvious and say that the volunteers seem so close and enthusiastic to get started with their teachings.  The NGO I work for sends these volunteers into rural areas to host HIV/AIDS awareness campaigns.  

I’ll be coordinating a group of volunteers like these ones in the next coming weeks in the Kikwe ward.  I’m excited and nervous.  I love watching all manner of relationships form and this position is going to be an opportunity to live in the muck of it.  I don’t just mean relationships between different people (even though those are some of the best ones), but even the changing relationships that people have to their perceived places in the world, their pasts, the circumstances they’re coming from.  I know I’m finding myself in a constant flux—a perpetual negotiation of who I am within my changing relationships.  I’ll be sure to update you more when the time comes.  

Elaine

June 26, 2012
Leaving Comfortable Spaces: Uprooted & Undone

I was recently hired to work for an HIV/AIDS focused NGO that operates in Tanzania.  My position is U.S. based and I’m in charge of overseeing the recruitment and preparation of volunteers from U.S., U.K., and some Australian universities.  These volunteers will host HIV/AIDS awareness campaigns in rural TZ over the summer.  The position is stipend only but after three years of unpaid interning, at least it pays at all, and I’m just glad to still be involved.  I volunteered with this organization last summer and was even hired to go back this summer as a volunteer coordinator.

Strangely, this second position has sort of been a source of worry for me.  I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’ve actually been fearing my return back to Arusha this summer.  Do not get things twisted.  I fell in love with Tanzania and with the community I worked with last year.  I met friends I didn’t get to spend enough time with and I had a beautiful home stay mother with the biggest heart and the bombest dance moves I’d ever seen.  I am so grateful to be able to go back and do this work.  I can’t even call it work.

But have you ever been scared of coming undone? I had a bit of a rough go my last semester with a series of life shaping events that I’ll maybe go into detail of when I’m more brave, care less about what people think about me, or when more time has passed.  But today I’m alright. I finished college, completed an honors thesis, got into a grad program, have a job(ish), recently discovered really true relationships, and I really like the length of my hair right now. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that after my Waterloo[s] I finally feel like I’m in a better or even good place, or at least I’m getting there.  I have a new skin and I’m getting comfortable in it.  And while I know this might sound hypocritical since this blog is about being uprooted, I’m scared that leaving this place right now for Tanzania might undo me a little bit.  

Looking at the calendar last night made my stomach drop.  I’m leaving in a little over a  week and I’m nervous that I’m not all here to be all there mentally and spiritually.  To shut myself up, I decided to craft a little for my volunteers that I recruited from Berkeley.  The process of making something and getting my fingers dirty was a silent and calming therapy; and painting with the colors of the Tanzanian flag and writing our organization’s motto, “TUKO PAMOJA” (We are together), reminded me why I decided to go back in the first place.  I’m going to learn so many things from the people I’m going to meet and from all our different lived experiences.  What I love about the NGO I work for is that much of the work done by volunteers is in engaging in conversations about HIV/AIDS—it’s less about the inevitable rhetoric of helping “them” or “serving/empowering others” and more about sharing and being shared with—being an other to an other and mutually benefitting from it.   What’s getting me through my anxieties is what I know going there will do for me.  It’s going to really challenge this sense of security and comfort that I’ve cultivated.  It’ll take hard emotional work, which I’m hoping will ultimately result in an even stronger sense of self.

Wish me luck.  Nevermind, I don’t need it.

-Elaine

June 14, 2012
I’m saying hello because I never want to say goodbye: Taking on Long Distance Relationships

A mysterious package landed on the door step of my parents house yesterday afternoon from one of my best friends.  I foolishly allowed myself to become close with Mel even though she is two years my junior (in age, but not in deportment).  In the past two years, she’s seen me through my darkest days and knows every possible secret I have.   We were classmates, hall mates, best friends, and conditional life partners in an open marriage (given we are both single, over 50, and same-sex marriage is allowed where we live).   

College is stupid because graduation dates often translate to expiration dates for these types of friendships.  And now that I think of it, most college relationships.  I may sound like an asshole, but I’ve always been really good at falling off the face of the earth.  It’s not that I’m non-responsive to attempts to keep in touch, but I’ve certainly not always been the first to reach out.  

This really has been something I’ve been trying to work on especially considering that the already long distance between me and the people I care about is going to increase by thousands of miles in a few weeks when I move to Tanzania.  The majority of my relationships, at least for the next 4 or 5 months, are going to be long distance relationships.  

And while that scares me a little bit, I know that it’s not impossible.  I’ve been in a long distance relationship before and taking off the bubble wrap from this present from Mel reminded me that maintaining these friendships takes care and effort.    When I used to be on breaks during the school year, the urgency to talk to friends from Berkeley wasn’t all there because I knew I’d be seeing them again in a matter of days or weeks.  But today, I’m realizing that I don’t have that return date anymore.  If I want these friendships to last, there has to be that effort and that urgency.  The people I said goodbye to—if I really wanted to or didn’t care enough—I would never have to see them again.  That’s empowering and at the same time that sort of agency breaks my heart.  The movies tell you that great loves (romantic, platonic, whatever) are easy, effortless, kismet—but what is so great about that?  I may be running the risk of sounding like an asshole twice in one post, but I’m learning now that I have to decide who’s worth the check-in or letter or hello, and they will have to choose if I’m worth it too.  Just so you know, I’m a good person to have on your team.   

So, hello.

Elaine 

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