Paradise is a funny thing. It is desired because of its beauty and mystery, and yet it can be ruined if it is not properly appreciated. Too much time in paradise can erase its wonder. Too little time can hide that wonder completely. The best trip to paradise reveals incredible experiences and leaves the traveler with a greater sense of awe once they leave. As much as I would have loved to stay in Zanzibar for an entire week (or two…or three), I don’t think it would have been the same. Zanzibar is paradise in every sense of the word, and our weekend gave us the most adventurous and relaxing holiday we could’ve asked for.

I didn’t make the decision to go to Zanzibar until my first day here. By complete coincidence (flashback to one of my first blog posts), I ran into a group of 5 Work the World students returning from Zanzibar when I arrived at the Kilimanjaro airport. I ended up riding back to the house with them and they shared so many amazing stories from their trip. That’s when I made up my mind to try to make it happen, and it only took a few days for my friend Emily to join in. The week before we were set to leave, we convinced our new friends Mark and Janae to tag along too. We were planning to meet up with 2 other girls who had finished their placement the weekend before and were spending an entire week in Zanzibar. It was shaping up to be the perfect getaway.

Planning vacations in Tanzania is very different from the U.S., and we found that out quickly as we endured the rollercoaster ride of trying to work with our travel agent, Bobby, to confirm our flights just a few days before our intended departure. On Tuesday, we had flights confirmed for Thursday afternoon. By Tuesday evening we were told that those tickets were suddenly unavailable and no flights had any seats left. By Wednesday, we had flights booked for Friday but just a few hours later the price of the tickets and the hotel had suddenly increased. The entire process of trying to work with a man who I’m convinced is some sort of gangster left us exhausted by Wednesday afternoon. Looking back on it, it was the perfect attitude for us to have when we walked into his office and told him that we couldn’t go anymore if the prices increased. That was enough to convince him to “give us a discount” and we finally walked out that day with tickets in hand (despite our terribly misspelled names… you can call me Allison Duofolonin from now on). At that point, we were just hoping that the trip would be worth the stress we endured to make it happen.

It only took a few hours in Zanzibar for all of us to agree that if we had known how incredible it would be, we would have agreed to pay so much more. Every moment that we spent there held a new adventure. Our arrival was perfectly timed with the setting sun on the horizon of the ocean, a sight that I had been longing to see since our family’s last trip to Florida. It was my first time seeing the Indian Ocean and it was beautiful.

I lost count of how many times I had to remind myself that I was in Zanzibar, on vacation, experiencing something incredible. When I think back on it I can’t believe some of the adventures we had; thankfully the pictures are convincing enough that it actually happened. For example, on Saturday morning we swam with turtles. We did not just watch them swim or feed them. We SWAM WITH TURTLES! As in swimming so close to them and hopping on their shells to take a ride around the pool. They were housed in a natural conservation area, and most of them were brought there after they were accidentally caught in fishermen’s nets. The area was fairly large and there were at least 40-50 turtles that called it home. I couldn’t help but think of what this experience would’ve been like if it had been in the U.S. It would have been very organized, a “turtle trainer” would have been present in the water the entire time, and there probably would have been a time limit and a very high price attached. In Zanzibar, we paid 15,000 shillings (about $10) to jump into the pool and swim with the turtles for as long as our hearts desired. The staff gave us some seaweed to feed them, and just a small handful was enough to attract a swarm of turtles. It was surreal to look underwater and see so many of these beautiful creatures gliding around us. The big fish were equally hungry and beautiful, and thankfully they didn’t fancy going after our toes. I’m pretty sure I was in a state of surreal content for the entire morning. Even as some of our group left, three of us stayed and just sat on the edge of the pool as the turtles took turns swimming up to us and sitting on our laps (literally…massive, 29-year-old turtles sitting on our laps. Who knew they liked to cuddle?!). I think I could’ve spent the entire day there.

 

My other favorite moment of the trip was the sunset cruise we had on Saturday night. The shallow waters off the shore are riddled with old wooden boats made by the locals. One of these acted as our vessel to take us up and down the northern coast as the sun set on the horizon. When I think back to our entire weekend, those 3 hours are what I consider most as paradise. Sailing in the ocean with 5 good friends, watching the shore pass by on one side and the setting sun on the other, drinking local beer and listening to the drummers sing African songs. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It is the kind of memory that I want to return to so badly, but any attempt at re-creation of that night would never be able to do it justice. Even the pictures don’t truly capture the atmosphere and bliss of that night.

Our time in Zanzibar was a getaway that we all needed. As much as Arusha had already started to feel like home, it embodied that word on a whole new level after that weekend. Going on a vacation within a vacation (kind of) was a weird feeling, and it solidified my ability to really call Arusha “home”, for now.

As incredible as Zanzibar was, I don’t want to forget who made it all happen and who created it all in the first place. We would never have worked out all of the messy details beforehand without the sovereign hand of God fighting for us. He gave us grace, gave us peace and gave us the most amazing adventure we ever could have asked for. I got to see some of His most beautiful landscapes in those few days and experience His creation up close. Not every moment of mine was God-glorifying and obedient, but He taught me so much about His forgiveness and endless love over those 4 days. Even in my weakest moments, He was there. I feel Him the most when I get to spend time near His immensely powerful and beautiful ocean, and He gave me that time there for a reason. For me, it gave me the rest I needed before going into my last week of placement. I can’t praise Him enough for knowing what I need in every moment.

 

Zanzibar, thanks for being the most wonderful paradise.

 

– Allie

 

When I was in middle school (and began the transition from girl to woman), I started to hear about the Proverbs 31 Woman. The topic was popular in youth group sermons, small group discussions, and Christian conferences throughout high school and college. For anyone who hasn’t read that passage in the Bible recently, Proverbs 31 describes a true biblical woman. Obedient, faithful, “clothed with strength and dignity”, hard working and filled with grace. It has always been taught to me as the type of woman I should strive to be.

I have known many great women in my life that fit the description of Proverbs 31, but by far some of the best examples I’ve found are the women of Tanzania. They have strength in body and spirit like no other woman I’ve seen. They are confident and caring, affectionate and incredibly bold. They have warm hearts protected by very thick skin. So much is placed on their shoulders – figuratively and literally – and they are never caught complaining that it is too big of a load. They do their work in silent obedience. They are incredible and beautiful.

This week, I’ve gotten to see Tanzanian women in a very different and raw setting. I started working in the Maternity ward on Monday, and every day has been a crazy adventure. If you’ve started to picture these women in single rooms with nurses and midwives by their side as they go through the grueling process of labor and birth, stop thinking now. These conditions are nothing like the privilege we’re given in the U.S. I walked in on Monday morning to find 8 hospital beds in one room, 7 of which were already full with women in various stages of labor. Each bed had one curtain for “privacy” (which are rarely used), and the mothers had a small space where they could store their belongings. Since the hospital is so low on supplies, the mothers are in charge of bringing what they want to be used during the delivery. Most of the time they bring their own kangas (blankets) to wrap the baby in and cotton to catch and clean blood and amniotic fluid. Some of them will also bring cord clamps if they can afford it; if not, the end of a glove is used to tie the cord instead. The women are given no pain meds, no alternative relief measures to help them during labor, and barely any company while they endure the excruciating experience of bringing a child into this world. In their culture, showing any signs of pain is frowned upon and criticized. Most of the women lie in their beds in silence, letting occasional moans escape while they transition through labor. The most noise I’ve heard them make is only when they’re pushing or when they are given an episiotomy without anesthetic, and even then it is nothing compared to the screams and groans that are allowed and even expected of women giving birth in the States.

Even trying to explain it doesn’t seem to give these women enough credit for what they go through to give birth. The best thing I had to compare it to was watching my sister, Emily, give birth to her daughter Talitha. It was incredible and beautiful and one of the best days I’ve had the opportunity to experience. But I can’t imagine getting through that day without a spacious and private hospital room, her husband Riley providing so much love and support, and eventually an epidural to give her that last bit of rest and strength to deliver. These women don’t have any of those things when they give birth, and yet still they maintain their strength and dignity.

After I dealt with the initial shock and awe that hit me on my first day in Maternity, God opened my eyes more to the beauty that is present in that room. Despite the isolation and pain, God is there and through His strength so many new and healthy lives have been brought into this world. This week we watched at least 15-20 births in our morning shifts; according to the record book, almost 100 have been born since Monday. Yesterday and today I got to experience being the one to deliver the baby from start to finish, from the first sighting of the head to the beautiful moment when the baby is pulled out and the mother sighs in relief as she finally gets to hold her child. Not every birth has been easy, though. This morning I had to watch as a woman got an episiotomy without any pain relief and cried out for forgiveness because she thought her suffering was punishment. No amount of comfort or gentle words could shake her from the cultural roots embedded in her.

The worst moment we’ve had this week was the delivery of a stillborn today. We watched as the woman sat in tears with her baby on the bed across from her, processing the news that she had just been given this morning when she came in with contractions. We sat on the bed beside her, offering hugs and hands and words of sympathy, as we watched the other nurses and midwives work around her because it is not culturally common for them to sit and comfort a grieving mother when there are other things to do and other mothers to assist. We all held back tears as she said goodbye to her child and were filled with bitterness when we had to leave her in the postnatal ward, surrounded by mothers with healthy babies. For these situations I don’t have a good answer or an easy explanation. The most I could do was hope and pray that God was with her and He would heal her.

This week has only continued to show me how much a Tanzanian woman embodies the description we’re given in Proverbs 31. I hope that one day I can have even a fraction of the strength that I see in these women. What they go through, even just in childbirth, is deserving of the utmost respect that they often don’t receive here. I wish that I could introduce all of you to these women, but until you come and meet them yourselves I hope that this post gives you an idea of what they’re like.

 

– Allie

Now that I’ve been living in Arusha for two weeks, it’s starting to feel like a home away from home. New experiences and first impressions of wonder have become daily routines and gradual exposure to what life here is really like. It’s beginning to transition from feeling like a vacation to feeling like another place that God has given me to live. When I’m at home in America, not everything is lovely and perfect and there are plenty of hard days to face and fight through. In my very first blog post I promised to share the good and the bad here, and today I’m fulfilling my promise. Today was one of those very hard days.

This morning we thought our day was going to be wonderful. We took the day off of placement to visit the hot springs about 2 hours away from our house. We planned on spending the late morning and afternoon there, relaxing after a long week and enjoying the bliss of having nothing to do but soak up the sun and marvel at the incredibly clear water. After about an hour of paved road and an hour and a half of trekking across bumpy dirt fields, we finally arrived. It was incredibly beautiful & set the scene for a perfect day.

(Sorry for a lack of pictures… I have some beautiful ones, but I haven’t had a chance to upload them yet!)

We had only been there for 20 minutes when it happened. I saw it from the very beginning. I saw him standing on the edge of the water in his bright red shorts, and I remember wondering if he was a local or another tour guide – maybe for the older lady who had arrived shortly after us. When I first saw him, he was watching one of the girls swing into the water on a hanging rope. He looked hesitant as he stood on the shore, and I wasn’t sure why. I must have looked away or gotten distracted by the small fish biting my feet, and when I looked back in his direction he was gone. A few seconds later his hand appeared above the surface, waving and fluttering frantically. That is when my mind froze, and that is the moment I have returned to again and again, racking my brains to try to figure out why I didn’t react sooner. I saw his hand and my instincts said that something wasn’t right, but I didn’t budge from the branch where I was perched all the way across the pool. Some other part of my brain wondered if he was trying to imitate some kind of animal to scare us, like a fish or a snake. A few seconds later some of the other girls noticed the commotion too – and still I was frozen. I watched as Rachel, Elle, and Emily began to swim over and asked us if we thought he needed help or was just pulling a prank. I waited for what seemed like eternity for them to finally reach him. And then their chilling screams broke through the silence, desperate pleas for help over and over as they realized that this was no prank. This man was drowning, and we quickly became his only hope for survival.

That is when my mind & body finally seemed to wake up from the frozen fear that had overtaken me. As the girls around me started to realize what was happening I jumped off of the branch and swam to the edge of the pool, fighting my way out of the water and sprinting around to the smaller shore where the commotion had traveled to. By the time I got there Emily and Rachel were hysterical, screaming and shouting for us to go after him. He was nowhere in sight. They had pulled his unconscious body from the depths of the water in an attempt to get his head above the surface and were forced to let him go when his body weight was too much for their arms to handle anymore. There was a strong current carrying him forward, and Elle went after him as he drifted under a huge overhanging tree. We yelled to Elle to see where she was, and for a few painstakingly long moments we waited in silence. Finally, her voice came out of the brush. She was okay. The minute I heard her voice I jumped into the water to help. Once I got past the thick line of branches, I saw them. He was alert and wide-eyed with a mouth full of foam, arms wrapped tightly around the tree trunk. Elle was right behind him, using her arms to pin him to the tree and keep him out of the water. The current was stronger on this side of the springs; any farther and they both could have been whisked down the river. Elle began shouting to the other girls to form a line so that we could get him back to land. I grabbed a nearby branch to steady myself, wincing as a thorn dug its way into my forearm. His shaky hands grabbed my shoulders and he began to make his way across the stretch of water as he moved down the line. It felt like an eternity, but they finally managed to pull him out. He sat there, stunned, as several girls tried to get him to cough up the water that was surely settling into his lungs. Everything was still for a moment. Everyone was in shock.

It is Emily and Rachel who will have the biggest trauma to recover from. They were the ones to reach him first and pull his lifeless body back up to the surface. They were the ones to see him motionless, to see the threat of death get closer and closer as he lost the ability to breathe. They were the ones who were forced to let him go when their strength gave out, with no idea as to whether he would live or die.

We left the hot springs as quickly as we could. No one wanted to get into the water again. We had another scare when we realized that one of the other guides who had jumped in to try to help was still down there. Thankfully, he was able to reach the other shore and pull himself out. Haji, the man who almost drowned, was a guide for an older woman who had stopped by to see the springs. He didn’t know how to swim. The woman was furious, and she acted almost like a mom figure for us as she took control of the aftermath and made sure he knew how dangerous his situation was. She praised us all as heroes.

The emotions came in waves after we finally drove away. I am ashamed to say that some of my first thoughts were wishing that I had been one of the first girls to get to him, as if I could have made some kind of difference. I would have put myself in even more danger. All of us in that water were at risk for not making it back out, especially if he had never regained consciousness. My mind was reeling with “what if” scenes the entire journey home. It was terrifying and exhausting.

Once a few hours passed and the wave of emotions began to fade into numbness, one truth remained in my mind as my sole source of strength. I have to hold on to Jesus. I HAVE to hold on to Jesus. When the worst becomes reality and you see the threat of death up close, Jesus is the only one whose comfort and hope cannot be diminished. The looming feelings of shame and regret wanted to turn my “what if” wonderings against me so that self-blame took over. But there is no place for that, because the most important thing is that Haji is alive. It doesn’t matter how it happened or how close he was to death. He is ALIVE. And that is solely because of the saving grace of God. I don’t know why He allowed us to go through this traumatic experience, but I know it would have been much worse if he had died. God used each of us there today to save his life, and He deserves all the praise for that because we couldn’t have done it without Him. I still can’t wrap my head around how Haji went from unconscious and drowning to alert and clinging to a tree in a matter of seconds; only the work of the hand of God can explain that. I don’t for a second wish that we hadn’t gone that morning, because if we hadn’t been there that man wouldn’t be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t have jumped in at all, but if he had no one would have been there to save him. Thank goodness we were all medically trained.

As I slowly began to try to move past the events of the morning, one of my first and strongest desires that day was to be in the warm and safe embrace of home. I wanted to melt into the arms of my family and forget about everything that had happened. I wanted all of my emotions to disappear. I didn’t want to feel anything at all anymore.

As I write this now, it has been two days since the near drowning incident and each day is better than the last. Already my mind has started to blur out the trauma of that morning and allow the scene to drift into the hidden corners of my memory. Although it is difficult to recount, I am so glad that I used the car ride home from the hot springs to write down everything I could remember. At first it was just an attempt at distraction from the tears that so badly wanted to escape, but now it is the most detailed account I have of the experience. Each passing day has made it easier to see the incredible blessings in those painful moments. It is so evident that God was there, and He placed us there for a very specific reason. Despite the traumatic memory that we all walked away with, God used us to save the life of a man that He was not ready to lose yet. I have no idea if Haji knows Jesus at all, but I hope that he realizes how valuable he is. God saved him for a reason, and I hope he uses that for the glory of the kingdom.

At the end of the day, all I have is Jesus and the steady love He provides even in my darkest moments. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.

– Allie

P.S. One of my favorite blessings of that day was getting to help wash the dishes after dinner and spend the night dancing and singing with Witness. I am so thankful for the motherly warmth and the comfort she gave me. Praise God for this incredible woman who has given me more than she will ever know.

Have you ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Many of the episodes begin with a patient being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance and wheeled into the ER while all of the doctors are doing assessments and shouting orders to each other and trying to figure out how to save the patient’s life. As a devoted Grey’s Anatomy fan, I have seen so many of these scenes and it gets my adrenaline going every time. The stress, the tension, and the unknown that surrounds the patient’s situation makes me so intrigued that I can’t stop watching until I find out what happens.

That is the kind of scene that occurs every day in the Mt. Meru ER, or as they call it here, Casualty. After a slower pace last week in the Pediatrics ward, I decided to jump over to Casualty this week to see how I liked it. I’ve only spent one day in an ER in the U.S. during nursing clinicals and I remember being a little overwhelmed by the continuous flow of patients walking through the door and the mystery illnesses they brought with them. This past experience made me hesitate to request a placement in the ER for this trip, but I can tell you now that I deeply regret it.

Casualty is best described as unpredictable chaos. It can be extremely quiet and empty one minute, and the next thing we know there are 4 different patients being wheeled in with serious injuries. The part of the ward we work on is the main Casualty room where the most emergent cases are brought. It’s comprised of a single room with 3 beds available for incoming patients, two cabinets for medications and supplies, and a small desk where the doctor can sit. The more severe cases are taken straight to a bed, and the less severe patients are seated at the doctor’s desk to be evaluated.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that literally anything can (and does) walk through that door. In just the past two days we’ve seen gruesome wounds from car accidents, broken and dislocated bones, head lacerations, continuous seizures, miscarriages, HIV complications, heart failure, knife attacks, and lifeless bodies. There have been unconscious patients wheeled in with absolutely no clues as to what happened, and all we can do is assess and stabilize them and hope that we can get a solid diagnosis later. Today there was a woman who came in as a victim of a motor accident with a leg swelled up to at least twice the size it should be, the result of a hemorrhage secondary to a broken femur. We are usually the first to get to a new patient, and we are left with hand gestures and our broken Swahili to try to figure out what happened until the doctor has enough time to come over.

The biggest challenge in this ward is the language barrier. When I’m standing beside a patient who has just woken up from a fainting episode and has no idea where she is, I so badly wish that I could tell her that she’s been taken to the hospital and everything’s going to be alright. When a woman comes walking in vomiting blood and clutching her stomach, I wish that I could ask her how many times she’s vomited and when it started. But of course it’s in those crucial moments that my basic Swahili words go out the window and all I can think to say is ‘pole sana’ – I’m so sorry. It’s in these moments when all I can do is hope that they can understand an affectionate smile and warm touch, and pray that they see Jesus more than they see me.

I’ve only been on the Casualty ward for 2 days and I have already fallen in love with it. The fast pace and the unknown that surrounds each patient is exhilarating and addicting. It is not easy to see the state that some of these people are in when we first see them, and sometimes my lack of Swahili and position as a nursing student makes me feel pretty helpless. But it has allowed me to learn so much and have more hands-on experience than any other ward has offered. I’ll try to spare you the gory details, but it’s safe to say that what I’ve seen here is nothing like what I’ve ever seen in the U.S.

If you feel compelled to, prayers for these Casualty patients is so needed. The lack of resources, medications, and life-saving measures makes even the most minor injuries life-threatening if they’re not treated quickly and correctly. Sometimes in the most helpless situations, all I can rely on is the sovereign and healing hand of God. I hope that even in the smallest ways, He is using us to take care of these patients and hopefully save their lives.

 

– Allie

 

So, I’m a few days in already and I haven’t said much about where I’m living. For all you know, I could be living in a house made of mud in the middle of the jungle! That’s the dream, actually, but that won’t come until my last week here when I stay with the Maasai. For now, here’s my humble abode:

 It’s called the Arusha Njiro House, which is used exclusively for Work the World students. It’s very similar to a university dorm. There are rooms upstairs and a couple downstairs with 2 sets of bunk beds and a bathroom each. They also include mosquito nets around the beds, which was so funny to get used to last year. I can remember begging my mom for one of those in middle school, they looked like hanging “curtains” that some girls would put above their beds to make it look like a princess bed. Here, that’s hardly the purpose – protecting us from mosquitoes is much more important, but they look very similar. Moms, here’s a future tip: if your daughter ever pulls that out as a wish of hers, go for the cheap mosquito nets over the expensive American curtains! 

The lower level also has a living room, dining room, and kitchen. There are 2 programme managers, Brian and Fidelis, who really take care of us during our time here. Witness, the cook, prepares all of our breakfast and dinner meals during the week. Susan also helps, and we have another housekeeper too. I’m only a few days in and they already feel like family. Last night, Witness and I were dancing to her favorite song while doing the dishes. They are incredibly welcoming and gracious, as many Tanzanians are. Outside is a large patio with lots of clotheslines (say goodbye to washers and dryers) and room to sit and play and soak up some sun when the clouds aren’t in the way. The whole property is surrounded by a high wall and “electric” fence that really isn’t on too much, but the sign on it is intimidating enough. Emmanuel and Innocent are the main security guards that work around the clock to make sure we’re safe. The staff here is incredible; they make this place feel like home!

There are 28 people in the house right now, and the most it can hold is 32. The entire main house is full of students and some of the support staff live in a house next door on the property. Fun fact: right now, the count is 27 girls and 1 guy. Yes, Horned Frogs, it’s true – the TCU ratio really can follow you outside of the Fort Worth bubble. Some girls have already figured out that there’s a group of 4 guys coming in this weekend, and they’re very excited. I couldn’t help but laugh at their disappointed reaction when they found out that they were dentistry students, not doctors!

I’m expecting the number of students in the house to change quite a bit while I’m here. Most of the girls that just arrived are only staying for 2 to 3 weeks, and there are at least one or two students coming in every weekend. A lot of the others came in groups as well, especially this past weekend. The fact that I traveled here alone was pretty surprising to most of them! There are 2 girls from Canada living in the same room as me and I’ve already been mistaken as a Canadian twice today. Maybe it’s time to start working on my Canadian accent! (Okay, you’re right. There is no Canadian accent. Except for the ‘Newfies’ from Newfoundland, as they call them. I’ll keep working on that British one instead.)

I hope to be able to share more about some of the girls here as I get to know them better. So far, they are all very wonderful and their backgrounds and cultural roots are fascinating to me. I think they know me so far as the American that asks a lot of questions… I’m okay with that reputation! I haven’t lived in a dorm for about 2 years and it will be a challenge getting used to that lifestyle again. My idealistic heart wants to be friends with everyone, but my realistic mind knows that it won’t be easy to build that many friendships in such a short time. Thankfully, everyone is friendly and welcoming regardless of whether or not they came in a group. That I can thank God for!

 

Kesho,

Allie

Have you ever ridden in a small, 15-seat bus packed with 20 people down a bumpy dirt road? That was the most exciting part of my day today. They’re called “dala-dalas” and they’re the public transport here in Tanzania that we’ll be using to go to and from the hospital every day. We spent the morning in a welcome orientation and then explored Arusha and got acquainted with some of the spots we’ll be using the most while we’re here – the hospital, the bank, the bus stop, the Maasai market. It wasn’t too exciting of a day, so I won’t bore you with all the details. Instead, here are some fun little tidbits (or “nuggets” as I like to call them) from the trip so far. Not long enough to have a chunk of a blog post, but worth mentioning. One thing you should know is that in the next 5 weeks, I’ll be learning a lot about two very different cultures – Tanzanian and European, primarily England. So far, it’s fascinating to say the least!

 

Here’s what I’ve got:

• The most frequently used adjective I’ve heard so far is “brilliant”. Ex. Did you see those trousers in the market? They were brilliant! I kind of love it and I’m trying to work it into my vocabulary.
• Instead of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, they call it breakfast, dinner, and tea. So when they ask you “What did you have for tea?” and you tell them you chose the masala tea, they will laugh at you… and then graciously correct you.
• Last night, we accidentally used the wrong pan to make popcorn. Instead of hearing the pleasant ‘pop’ sound of the kernels, we heard one BIG ‘pop’ and found the bottom of the pan caved up like a big bubble. Turns out we ruined one of Witness’s pans, so the next day she came back from the store with microwave popcorn. Whoops!
• When you’re the only American living with 28 other people, 25 of whom all have accents, it’s very hard not to want to talk in an accent with them. Side note: one day I want to ask them whether or not this is offensive. Stay tuned for an update.
• UPDATE! I asked them. They laughed when I said people in America LOVE trying to imitate British accents, and they said it was the same for American accents in their countries but for them it’s much harder to imitate. Get excited for my perfected British accent when I get home!
• 3 girls here don’t have their luggage yet. 2 who came through Heathrow Airport from Canada said that the main luggage belt at the airport broke down that day and 200 people on their flight alone didn’t receive their bags in Nairobi – 18,000 bags never made it on the right aircraft. YIKES.
• Mom and Dad, try not to read this one – apparently 2 of the terrorists behind a bombing in Arusha towards the end of May are patients at Mt. Meru Hospital. One of them is waiting to get an artificial leg! My protective side is skeptical but my medical side thinks this is so cool and is hoping to sneak around and find them one day.
• In England, their “public” schools are the same as our “private” schools and vice versa. Why? I have no idea. Confusing? Yes.
• They can also start specialty schools like med school and physical therapy school when they’re 18. For them, that’s university. One of the girls will be a doctor when she’s 24! Dang. For all my pre-med friends – I recommend moving to England stat.
• The streets of Arusha are full of people trying to sell you things. When you let just one of them talk to you and if they go so far as to convince you to buy something, you are the new target for all of the nearby sellers. Prepare to be swarmed! Luckily, I came home today without a single purchase outside of a cheap phone and SIM card. I call that a win.
• Canada Day is tomorrow, July 1^st! Two of my roomies are from outside of Toronto. Get out those flags and celebrate, Canadians.

Those are all my nuggets for today. Get excited for future posts full of interesting cultural facts and funny tidbits… or just my random list of notes. I’ve embarrassed myself enough already trying to get integrated into two different cultures, I’m sure this isn’t the end of it! Wish me luck 🙂

Lots of love from Arusha!

 

– Allie