Saying Goodbye to Tanzania

Ok, so again I back track but I must tell you of my Tanzanian farewell.

It began with my Teacher Neema insisting that we meet her father one day after class. The concept of parents is very different in Tanzania and by "father" she meant a male patriarch who had helped raise her. This particular father was the Pastor in her childhood village of Same who had seen Neema's achademic promise as a primary schooler. He and his wife had taken her into their house so she didn't have to commute from the mountains, and sponsored her to complete her secondary studies with a focus on English. She absolutely adores these people and it was an honour to be invited to meet them.

So after class finished I roped another volunteer Claire in, and we set off for Same, with no idea where it was. After catching a Dala Dala into central Moshi we had to navigate the bus station. No small feat for 2 Mzungus and an African cos within minutes we had 30 people surrounding us screaming inflated prices at Neema, hoping we'd choose their bus over the next. Neema is very honest and refused to let us be charged more for being white. So she was screaming at them, while they were screaming at her, while Claire and I watched on in shock. Finally Neema found someone who'd charge us a fair fare and we boarded... only to find out we'd paid $1,000 TSH too much each. So again Neema went in to bat, and came back to the seat with $3,000 TSh triumphantly refunded. So we were off to Same (pronounced Sah May).

We arrived about an hour and a half later after an authentically African bus trip. There were 6 people squeezed onto our 5 seats, and the man in front's seat back had completely broken away from the base. The bus driver came up, ripped it off entirely, leaving only a stool as a seat, and explained he now had the best seat on the bus for looking at the Mzungus! And that was that. We bumped our way to Same, stopping intermittently for toilet breaks. At each town street sellers would run along beside the bus with their goods high above their heads hoping we'd reach out the window, grab what we wanted and replace the gap with money. It's an inredible way to shop and you can buy everything from fruit and veg to cold drinks and sweets to phone credit.

Once in Same the Pastor took us to the orphanage he runs out of his church. These children sleep, eat, learn and play inside this church their whole lives. They looked so happy, but i couldn't help thinking how sad that was. They beamed when I gave them each a sticker with Aussie animals on it. After singing and playing with them for a while we went to the Pastor's house. He was very proud to ferry us through town alongside him as Mzungus were a rarer sight here than in Moshi. As is the African custom of hospitality, a beautiful spread was laid out for us and we feasted. The language barrier was once again transcended with smiles and gesticulations and after spending a wonderful afternoon chatting it was time to head home. We said our goodbyes and I slipped him a bit of money to buy porridge for the orphans. I went to bed very satisfied for having had yet another authentic Tanzanian day in the homes of the locals.

The next day was our last with our classes and it was very bittersweet. We had bought lollipops with whistles on them for the children - only to find out that when you blow a whistle in Tanzania police come! We had to confiscate the bases as they finished each sweet. We played games, sang songs, and had fun playing under the ever-watchful eye of Mount Kilimanjaro above us. I laughed how the kids had picked up little Aussie accents. Our "Slowly, slowly" game was now "sleeeoowleeee". Our teacher generously gifted us both fabric which meant a lot. We waved goodbye at the gate, while they kissed our hands, but I don't really think they understood it was goodbye forever. It must be hard for them having a constant churn of three-week volunteers.

Saying goodbye to the adults was the hardest though. They had each prepared a goodbye letter and had all gone in to gift me 8 meters of traditional waxed Tanzanian fabic. It was amazing. I'd written them each a personalised letter but had also had photos of their families printed for them. This meant a lot and they were very excited showing their beautiful photos to each other. They sang the "we are sorry to say goodbye" song which tugs the heartstrings of even the toughest person. After class they couldn't let me go so I was shuffled from house to house to share fruit with their families. They must've all remembered I don't like bananas, since they found it so funny at Ramadan, and it was touching that i was not offered a single one. Saying goodbye to the women in my class was the hardest goodbye in Tanzania. If I could have stayed longer I have no doubt I could have made a real long-term difference to their lives. Even just the three weeks I spent with them though has given them confidence and a love for the study of English.

Tanzania is a wonderful place. Anyone who wants to go to Africa should go there as they have everything. The Serengeti, N'Gorongoro, Mount Kilimanjaro, Zanzibar, the people... it is a melting pot of all things iconically African. It is a pleasure to have lived there for a month. I have made friends for life.

They all think it's hilarious I adore my dog so much and I was cheekily teased about my little Harvey Bear. Give him a cuddle from his Tanzanian sisters!

xx