* not with ink

I've been home for two weeks! I took a good old-fashioned film camera with me to Tanzania (who does that!? me.) and now that the film has been developed, I would like to share some of my favourites with you. a boy herds cattle a traditional home with a banana-tree lined path these young girls were watching traditional musicians a young lion enjoys a buffalo feast! I need to figure out what I'm going to do to compile all the best ones. Maybe I'll make a photo book. And carry it around with me everywhere I go, and show it off like a proud parent.

I have been back for four days. Toronto is hotter than Tarime, muggier, noisier, and more confusing. It is also home. In many ways, the past month feels like a surreal dream. It is separate, unrelated to this big city and my busy days of work, coffee dates, TV watching, sports-playing, and music-listening. I know that isn't entirely true. I don't want that to be true. the "streets" of Kyoruba But I also don't know how to make it so. I remembered this morning that three weeks ago, I wandered into a river just outside the village of Kyoruba, my skirt held above my knees, but still skimming the water, and stood in the sun. My hand on the shoulder of a young woman, I listened and prayed as the priest baptized her after baptizing her husband and another young man. I don't know how I had already forgotten this, the honour of being a witness to her baptism, the fear I felt about entering potentially-parasitic waters, the unity of being with brothers a...

Sometimes, in the evenings when I'm relaxing, or when I first wake up in the morning, I forget that I'm in Tanzania, at an agricultural centre, a half hour drive from the Kenyan border. It startles me to remember. And then it startles me that I've managed to forget, again. Each time I walk past a mud hut and call "Mangana!" to the children staring at me, I am struck by how much of the world is deeply different from Canada. Explaining snow to local pastors has become a bit of a hobby. What is an apartment building? And what do I mean, unmarried "bintis" live with neither their mother nor their father's families? No, pastors in Canada do not farm to supplement their meager church income. And people never bring eggs or vegetables to church as their offering. Yes, I am 29 and unmarried. We are coming into our last week of learning, and I am still not sure why I'm here. I've walked through fields, up hills and through valleys, preached in cl...

It is raining this morning as I wait in the hotel lobby for our class' stragglers. I hear Swahili all around me. Smooth flying this far, and we are headed back to the airport for flight #3. Then a three hour drive, then we are HOME. 

Today's to-do list: - take my anti-malarial pill (with a hearty breakfast) - fold & put away laundry (done) - pay credit card bill - pay phone bill - set up email auto-responder - put packing pile into hiking backpack & carry ons (aka PACK.) - write a goodbye (for now) note - shower - drink a beer on the deck (weather permitting) - go to the airport - get on a plane to Tanzania, via Amsterdam. No big deal, right? I won't have internet while I'm away, so this little space will be silent for a month (big surprise, after a nearly-silent spring). This has been a very full season for me. A good one, with lots going on internally & externally. I have been feeling private and protective of my solitude, but when I'm back, I am sure that there will be plenty to process and share. Can't wait to reconnect with all of you! And if you're the praying sort, my two main goals are to make it back without any parasites, and to avoid cancer-causing s...

FRIENDS! Friends! Friends! One week from now, I will be IN TANZANIA. This reality is finally sinking in. I am getting a little bit excited. I'm also nervous. Scare-cited, if you will. There are a few more errands to run - money from the bank, and something else I can't remember right now. But all the things I need to pack (minus a few pieces of dirty laundry) are currently on my bed. I have a floppy sun hat that makes me happy, and some light cotton pants that might be the comfiest thing I've ever owned. I think I'm almost ready. It's been a crazy spring, and despite my resistance to the idea, my friends may be right - this trip will be good for me. I don't know what to expect, but I'm quite sure it will change me.

I think a bunch (most) of you know that I am going to Tanzania for a month this summer. If this is a new fact to you, or if this is a fact you don't particularly care about, or if you have any other reason at all, please feel free to skip this post. Because this is a post in which I ask for help. And I don't really like asking for help. I'm happier to have you skip this post and feel free of any sense of obligation or guilt than to read this post and then wonder if I'm secretly judging you for not helping me (I won't be). The only reason I'm writing this post is because multiple people asked me if I would be writing a support letter, and could they support my trip to Tanzania. The answer, in the typical sense, is no - I cannot get you charitable receipts in exchange for money given to a "sending organization," and I have no plans to send glowing prayer reports of the great "ministry work" I do while I'm gone. But the actual answer is ...