This grungy internet cafe has air conditioning and fans. People whisper over web pages and the ancient computer fans rattle away quietly. I sift through a few emails, check facebook messages and reply where I can, when the internet connection allows me to load something of decent size, and browse through the odd Canadian news headline when time permits. Internet access costs 800 TSH an hour - that's about 80 cents, but its all I can use due to my lack of patience with these crappy old computers and the painfully slow internet. I kind of like coming here though, to catch up and check in with home and have a brief distraction from life in Tanga...
Walking out of the internet cafe is always a shock though. The heat hits me like a ton of bricks and Bongo music blares from the boom boxes of the local newspaper vendors. The dude selling copied cds and dvds usually has something along the lines of "Hey Mzungu! Mambo!" to say to me and I'm thrown right back into the Tanzanian culture I've adapted quite well to. I can't imagine what it will be like to go home. It will take a lot of effort, when someone hands me my first coffee or serves me my first western meal, to say "thank you" instead of "Asante." I'll have to refrain myself from saying "Mambo" or "Habari" or "Hujambo" to anyone and everyone I pass on the street. I'll have to start speaking coherent, proper English now too - no more Kiswahili and English mixed up together. I will miss the heat, even though it is a lot to handle. I think I'm pretty much going to miss everything and I will have to come back. I feel like I have a life here.
People know me when I walk home and a few people stop to say hello. Last week, I had to tell Augustino (my favorite Taxi-bicycle driver) that I have to go home baadaya wiki moja - after one week. He looked sad and then asked if maybe he could get a job in Canada as a taxi bicycle driver? Let me just add that a Taxi bicycle here is just a bike and the passenger sits on the back on one of those little wire rat-trap things. I had to explain to him that in Canada people take taxi CARS and that no one drives taxi bicycles. He said that he will think about getting his drivers liscence so he can drive a taxi car. Too cute.
I've been really busy in my last few weeks here - I've visited all of my students in their homes in the villages and met their families. Being welcomed into my kids' small mud huts and hearing stories from their wazazi (parents or caretakers) has been one of the most incredible experiences here in Tanzania. The villages look like something out of a world vision commercial, but in reality I didn't find it so sad. The kids playing with sticks in the dirt and running around with cardboard boxes on their heads aren't just sad statistics with flies on their faces - they are my friends. Their parents who are struggling to make ends meet aren't just a sob story - they are just people like me who want the best for their kids. The people are happy, even though they don't have TVs or nice clothes or shoes that fit. All of the parents said that their children are very happy at school. Many students said that last year at the school, the teachers would beat them and they didn't like it, but now at Kiomoni we don't beat the kids and they look forward to coming to school. They bring home artwork and the soap and toothbrushes I've given them and have only good things to say about their time at the nursery school. A lot of parents thanked all of us teachers with great sincerity. Maybe I have made a difference after all, even if I haven't saved Africa.
I don't know how I'm going to say goodbye to all of this...
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