I met four members of my group in the JFK airport, and the rest in Amsterdam. On both flights (JFK-AMS; AMS-Kilimanjaro) I was desperately homesick. I questioned why I even went on this trip. I knew I must be insane.
Later, I stepped off the plane in Arusha and immediately forgot everything except my present. My soul was home. The land was familiar, the smells were familiar, the people were familiar and the general vibe was familiar. That's not to say that all of those aspects are similar through-out this entire East African area. Arusha is simply the city I knew best; the Maasai, the people. I had returned to the land of my heart.
After acclimating to Arusha we went outside of the city into a Maasai village--the home of our first project. We quickly made friends, learned some Swahili, climbed hills and volcanos, bought a goat, and painted roughly 200 school desks. We also quickly got dirty. We had arrived during a dry season so dust was EVERYWHERE. I loved it. I had never been one to like getting dirty and now I really enjoy it. I love how close to nature it makes me feel. It just feels like it's what I'm supposed to be doing. Conversely, I now appreciate how easy it is for me to take a shower at home. I appreciated how easily water can be accessed.
I loved watching all of our interactions. Our entire group was fascinated by the Maasai and they were fascinated by us. It might have been the first time they had ever seen mzungus, foreigners, and we were just delighting in their smiles and positivity. So much love was being spread. Everyone was grateful. Grateful for the new company and perspectives and grateful for the learning and teaching opportunities as each and every person had so much to share. We had the pleasure of sitting in on a standard 7 class which consisted of children and teenagers ages probably ranging from nine to eighteen.
Think about that for a minute, teachers. You have somewhere around 120 kids of all ages and you're trying to plan a lesson to fit all of their needs. You are one person. You might not even be a certified teacher yet. You might not have even made it to secondary school.
Think about that, students. You and 120 other classmates crammed into desks that only comfortably fit three or four depending on the size of the person. You and 120 other classmates sharing, if you're lucky, ten battered "textbooks". You and 120 other classmates trying to learn the meaning of the words "although" and "unless" when you don't even know how to say "hello, how are you?" in this funny new language.
Close your eyes and think about that.
I did.
I knew right then and there that I needed to learn Kiswahili. I needed to learn their language so I could go back to teach them mine. I needed to go back to that school and all of the others I had the pleasure of seeing and I needed to teach. We needed to start at the very beginning and we would learn vocabulary. We would learn how to construct sentence, how to make all the pieces fit together. We would play games to help the information stick. We would practice speaking. And soon enough, we would all understand each other.
Granted, you don't need to know the language in order to learn something. Two things I learned from a beautiful, kind, sweet, precious Maasai girl named Violet were trust and confidence. She taught me to trust myself and the land and she gave me the confidence to explore.
Our friend Jonas took us on many hikes one of which was to a crater. This is when I found Violet. I made it up the giant hill fine, just a little winded, and she wordlessly asked why I wasn't taking pictures. I tried to explain that I couldn't because I was a fool and left my memory card back at the camp. I'd like to say she understood, but I really have no idea. She accepted it, though. When we started to make our way down I think she could sense that I was pretty afraid of slipping and tripping and falling and breaking something because after I slipped twice (it's really not that bad--almost enjoyable, even) I paused at a place I knew would be tricky and she calming and confidently grabbed my hand and gently pulled me forward. I was so grateful to have her. I know I could have made it down by myself, but it was so much better having her there to hold my hand and teach me her word for "home"--"nyumbani". I absolutely adore that girl.
I saw her again at a Maasai wedding we were allowed to attend. We were walking along the same road as her house and she just popped out and joined me. The wedding was truly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. The dancing and chanting seemed so natural. It's almost like it's part of me--like I was born with all of these Maasai quirks in me and they just needed to be home to actually express themselves. I knew all of the songs. They were so familiar. And, no, I do not believe it was because I had spent time with them the last time I was in Tanzania. These were different songs... different, but so me and so instinctual.
I am Maasai.
I have been shaken. Again.
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