Rudi Nyumbani

There's a song that is currently popular in Tanzania . .. with a chorus line that sings "rudi nyumbani," which means "come home." The song was stuck in my head for those two weeks that I was stuck in Dar es Salaam, staying at the YMCA, awaiting several meetings with Peace Corps staff about the situation with my site placement. Unfortunately, all my options dried up. I was the sole person out of our group of 49 volunteers to be asked to leave with "interrupted service," which is basically leaving country for reasons beyond my control. I didn't want to arrive to that decision, but as Mick Jagger so eloquently puts it, "you can't always get what you wa-ant."

Everything was just getting peachy for me in the village. I had gotten in comfortably with teaching at the primary school, my Swahili was improving considerably, I got a puppy. I was just getting comfortable with the fact that I could stay in this spot for another year. And then it happened. One too many thefts . .. the last one being an attempted break-in while I was home, at 2am. This became a security issue. Peace Corps staff says, "evacuate." I have to write a series of security reports for Tanzanian staff as well as headquarters in Washington. Everything was a whirlwind of "what just happened? . .. how the heck could this happen?" . .. the village was finally accepting me as one of their own, right? So one person had to go and ruin it for everyone . .. including myself. "Bahati mbaya," I suppose. Bad luck.

After an emotional return to the village to pack up my things, I returned to Dar es Salaam for one last meeting with the PC staff. I wanted to stay, but to switch to another village or to work in conjunction with an NGO (non-government organization). Alas, there was nothing currently available for a Health Education volunteer. I felt complete support from the PC Tanzania staff on how to safely leave my current village .. . but not nearly enough on how to stay in country, or transfer to another, and I got caught up in a changing administrative staff. Short staffed and overburdened as they were, I felt as if they had to let me go due to lack of time to commit to researching another available site or country transfer. Thus, my return plane ticket was handed to me rather quickly.

With Interrupted Service, I am eligible to re-enroll in Peace Corps . .. but there are stipulations. It's not guaranteed I could return to Tanzania, or even another East African country . . . and it's much like starting all over again. Instead of re-enrollment, I'm looking into other options so that I can return to TZ in the near future. Work with non-profits, NGOs, orphanages, even missions. I just want to return to say my proper goodbyes, help out with a few more projects, take that orphan girls group to climb the Marangu route that's reserved for us on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Take my puppy home. I miss her so much, my Luna.

Coming home has been bittersweet. I met a number of wonderful people passing through the YMCA in my last days in Tanzania. Many of them passing through, volunteering, experiencing new food, language, culture. I befriended other Americans, Brits, Norwegians, Koreans, Australians, Indians, and other Tanzanians. It was a cultural hodge-podge of people all with the same goal in mind . .. where to find the cheapest, most delicious food and the coldest beer.

My plane ride home was silent, lonely. I always thought that I'd be ecstatic to be on that plane ride . .. instead i felt very numb, very confused. To be coming home in such different circumstances, so early. I felt literally, interrupted. I took the window seat on my second flight and watched the landscape go from endless sea, to patches of green with snaking rivers, to patchwork quilts of farmland, to the rigid organized grid of Chicago cityscape. I was entering back into modern "civilization," and it had not welcomed me back with ease. It said, "you're home now, and you gotta catch up." But it didn't feel like home, it just felt, strange. More strange than when I landed in the heat of Dar es Salaam on my arrival.

But there was my sister, waiting in the airport, in front of a large group of people at the gate. I spotted her through the glass door and started waving uncontrollably, with a little yelp and the beginnings of misty-eyed sobs. But our smiles and hugs took over, smiling Indian women nodded approvingly at our long-awaited embrace . .. as if to say, "oh, we know what that's like." They probably have sisters who live across the globe, maybe they were waiting for them to return as well.

Seeing my friends and family again was wonderful but difficult in a way. It made me realize how much I missed them, and how hard it will be to leave them again if I decide to return abroad. They all bombard you with questions and comments at first, but then the news comes up, or the latest on YouTube, and you can't help but be swept back into those things along with them. And after a few days, things just fall right back into place as they had before you left. you realize that you were gone, and maybe you changed a bit, but life still went on. Babies were born, people got engaged, married, separated, divorced, laid-off. You forget that you were gone almost an entire year, and you literally come home around the same time you left, feeling like you're simply picking up where you left off. The same issues apply now that you thought you wouldn't have to worry about for another year . .. where will I get a job? How will I pay my bills? Do these jeans make me look fat? But then, some little memory will creep back up and beckon you back to your "other" life, your peace corps life, like a glass of icewater or a warm shower that reminds you of how long it had been without one, and how you can never take that for granted. You become a little more conscious of each thing you throw away, and to not buy those things you don't necessarily need. Maybe not spend so much time with a drink in your hand. But regardless, to thoroughly enjoy and appreciate life and all it has to offer you, and to teach you.

Let's raise our glasses, of wine or tea or icewater, and toast to lessons learned and experiences had, and wish for the best outcome . .. and more to come.

thank you to all of you who read this, and supported me along this journey.

much love,
cristina

p.s. stay tuned for more pictures and a return blog . .. cristina in ethiopia? cristina in chicago? cristina in cleveland? cristina back to tanzania? "tutaonana baadaye" . .. we'll see later. ;)