Kuuliza si ujinga

A word of warning before I continue:
I am responsible for the comments you post on this blog. That's right, your words are my responsibility. So please be careful. It's very possible my Tanzanian counterparts will read this blog, and what we see as a funny or sarcastic comment could easily be offensive to them.

Please feel free to post your comments. Just be sensitive and polite--as if you were sitting and speaking to your new Tanzanian friend (something I'll be doing a lot of soon).
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I'm at the Peace Corps headquarters in Dar es Salaam. It's been an interesting day. Last night I walked into my room in the hostel in Dar es Salaam with a sudden, overwhelming sense of loneliness. I don't think the enormity of the cultural adjustments I'll have to make had struck me until then. Philadelphia was fun, and felt like home. The Amsterdam airport was exciting because it was new, but it was still very comfortable and familiar. Receiving change in Euros, and getting tea in a china cup instead of a paper cup, aren't exactly large changes.

Then we landed in Dar es Salaam. And as soon as we stepped off the airplane, it felt different. The material surroundings were still familiar; the airport didn't look much different than an American airport. But there was something in the atmosphere, in the way the airport employees stood, in the way they looked at or didn't look at us, which felt different. I had a sudden sense of being in an unknown, alien culture. Of not knowing what is polite to do and what is rude, when greetings are expected and when they aren't, or even what body language means someone is annoyed with you.

As soon as I closed the door to my room at the hostel, I was overwhelmed by a sense of being alone. I should make it clear that I'm not alone at all: the Peace Corps has taken amazing care of us so far, and there are 39 people sharing the same fears and experiences as I am. But I felt suddenly, utterly, alone. Maybe it was the mosquito netting on the bed, the sheets that were rougher than those at home, the way the toilet and shower share the same room without a separation between them. Maybe it was the fact that it was so much simpler than a hotel room at home: I had everything I needed, but it was very simple, very basic. It didn't help that the electricity flickered off for two minutes while my belongings were spread all over the floor.

I did sleep well (it helped that I didn't sleep on the plane). In the morning I walked alone through a girls' school to the cafeteria--a short walk, but again, overwhelming in that I didn't know how to interact with the people I passed. Breakfast was tasty: fried plantains, bread, jam, tea, a juice made of passionfruit and avocado (absolutely delicious). We took a bus to the Peace Corps compound. I say compound because it's not just a single office. It's a group of buildings surrounded by a fence in one of the nicer areas of Dar es Salaam, and the areas between the buildings are full of banana trees, palms, and tropical plants I can't yet name.

The first hour or so here was overwhelming. They told us about training, about their high expectations of us and what we'd be doing for the next ten weeks. At times it seemed like too much adjustment and learning to expect of one jet-lagged person. But that was only the first hour. The more time I've spent at the Peace Corps compound, the better I've felt. Everyone is clearly very experienced and friendly and eager to help us, and the staff are excited even when we speak to them with the little Swahili we've learned so far. I don't think the next few weeks will be easy. But I'm feeling much better about them now. I even have a plan to greet the girls at the school next time I walked to the cafeteria, with the local equivalent of "what's up?":
Vipo?
Poa!