The fabric of my soul.

I’ve been on the ground in Tanzania for less than 24 hours, and somehow it feels like home.

It defies explanation; I don’t understand how it is or what it is or why, but something in me just feels alive here in a way I seldom feel in the United States.  I'm watching the cursor blink as I try to find the words to explain that somehow the air and the dust and the equatorial sun feel as though they have become a part of my DNA; woven into the fabric of my soul. I can feel it running through my veins... and that's where the words begin to fail me.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that no one expects understanding here; I feel free to ask anyone for help, where to find things I need or how to get there or what they mean by one thing or another.  Everyone is so helpful and warm and greet you with a big smile.  In the states, we’re siloed, cut off from others, fiercely independent and asking for help with something that is unfamiliar is a challenge.  I think back on one of my first train rides in Boston; after a certain time at night, on one particular line, you have to signal when you want the driver to stop/open the doors but only after a certain point.  Of course, I didn’t know this and was so confused and embarrassed when I missed my stop.  If that happened here, I would simply ask the person next to me what was happening and they would explain how it works without a second thought.  Maybe that would have happened in the states, but in general the culture is such that I don’t even feel comfortable asking. It’s intrusive and I feel like an idiot.  Here, it’s just expected and people look out for each other. 

I also love the complete 180 in my own temperament regarding time.  In the states I’m attached to a rigidly pre-defined schedule and a certain amount of anxiety is allocated to ensuring I’m on time (or early); here, you figure things out as you go along and planning is limited at most to a few hours in advance, with loosely-defined hours. 

I think it also has something to do with my own anxiety levels here.  They're nearly nonexistent.  In Boston I feel stressed about trying to understand things that aren't clear, how to get around, how to interact with people and how to ensure I'm doing a good job and doing everything 'right'.  Here.... here we figure things out as we go along. And I know that very little is actually in my control.  And I probably should try and transfer some of that temperament back to the states, now that I think about it... 

And really, nothing fills my heart with more joy than the excitement with which my few words of Swahili are received.  When I ask how to say something, eager to (re)learn basic conversation, you would think I’ve just offered them a million dollars, they’re so excited.

So today is a settling-in day; I got my Tanzanian cell phone number, adjusting to the many-hour time difference and reminding my skin that secretly it really loves the heat and humidity. Tomorrow I head out at 4am to fly to the north of the country where we will be doing hospital assessments; something I love, have done many of with Mercy Ships and am so excited to be able to do again. 

My heart is so full it feels like it might burst right out of my chest.  I’m so grateful to be here. 

Tuk-Tuks are called Bajaji's here.

Coconuts