For those who know me well, you know that I am a softy, sentimental weirdo. So, on that note, as I start the next phase of my journey, I have a writing that I think is so apt for this time and place. I hope it resonates with some of you. Mad love to you all and remember to always keep it real.
"Crossing that threshold into your uncharted future is an act of great courage and self-compassion, and it changes your relationship to life in a fundamental way. It embodies your willingness to employ a new form of risk-taking, to consciously choose growth-stimulating, soul-nourishing conflicts, to live through the accompanying anxiety, and to accept your life as open-ended and unpredictable. Passing through that door commits you to living in the present in a way you never before have. Your personal, cultural, or religious past no longer provides you with a map to your future."
The internet is only half working so I am not able to upload many pictures. My family made me a cake for my last night! Then we sat around the table and all talked about how much we would miss one another. It was so fun to feel like a part of their family. I will miss hearing their sweet voices every time I walk in the door. Always so much warmth and laughter.
My time here at MS-TCDC has come to an end and I said goodbye to my family today. I went into it knowing that it was temporary. Everything in life is temporary and if you really try to embody that concept, it makes saying goodbye a little easier. However, the connections you make in your life are forever a part of you. That is how I feel about everyone that I have come to know and love here. I carry all of you with me in my heart and so I never feel alone. It's true.
What I love
about this place is that it really teaches you to roll with the punches. With
that comes the ‘hamna shida’ attitude. Hamna shida, like hakuna matata,
essentially means no problem. While it can get frustrating to have things
pretty much never run according to plan, it is a good practice in patience and
reevaluating what is really important. At home in the states, it is common to
pack our schedules so full that you are yelling at the traffic light when it
doesn’t turn or you become irritated if you are left more than 5 minutes waiting
for someone or something. While I do like structure and routine and efficiency,
having to let it all go feels good too. My time here has made me embody that
reality.
Another thing
that just floors me every time is how incredibly strong the women are here and
in the most silent way possible. They just go about their work…gracefully. Work
that requires serious physical and mental strength. It requires a resiliency of
spirit on a level that most people in developed countries rarely have to call
on. The mamas here are badass.
Everywhere you
look, whether you are in a rural or an urban setting, you see women carrying
very heavy loads of water, food, wood—anything and everything—on their heads. Last
weekend I watched this woman, who was probably in her 50’s, take about a 5
gallon bucket, fill it with water from the stream and then seamlessly lift it
up to her head without spilling a drop and then, in one fluid motion, she turns
and walks in flip flops up this steep, muddy hill…and just continues on with
her day. It is absolutely incredible the amount of physical labor that people
do in this country.
Another one of
my favorite things to do is to say, “Shikamoo” to a mama or a bibi (grandma) who
is tirelessly working away. Shikamoo means essentially, “I show you my
respect”. The response is, “marahaba”. Their response is one of the most
genuine, heartfelt, fully engaged responses you could ever hope to get from a
stranger on the road. Just full body smile, followed by some high fives and
some laughs. Oh. I am going to miss those exchanges. If you ever feel unsafe or
unsure of your surroundings, go find yourself a mama and you will be taken care
of.
Well, this blog post is short and maybe a little disjointed, but this week has been busy and I need to go flag down a bus to Moshi, and I do literally mean 'flag down a bus'. You wait for one that looks like the one you want, wave your arms and scream "Moshi?" to the driver. If they have room...or not, they stop and shove you on. I hope that I have a seat waiting for me.
Okay, ya'll. It's been real and it's been fun and it's been real fun.
Off to climb Kilimanjaro!!!!!!!!!!!
Love,
Sadie
No comments:
Post a Comment