Perfect Recognition

I arrived in Moshi two nights ago, and I have to say that it felt like I was coming home. I knew I missed Tanzania, but I did not anticipate that I would have this kind of response. Even the things that annoyed me the first time I was here – the terrible roads, the smell of sweat, the dirt that your clothes collect – brought a smile to my face. I missed this.
I am staying with Aubrey, the girl from Washington D.C. that I worked with at White Orange Youth the last time I was here. We are renting an apartment-esque place, complete with a shower and a normal toilet – hard commodities to come by here. Unlike last time, where our chef, Primo, made us amazing meals at normal scheduled times, we will be fending for ourselves, traveling to the markets, buying and preparing our own food. So far, our diets have consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but following the conclusion of this blog post, we will be making our first trip to buy fresh fruits and vegetables so that we can make proper meals.
Yesterday, we spent the majority of our time walking around Moshi and visiting old friends. My memory has served me well so far, as my Swahili has held up , allowing to get through conversations far better than I thought I would. Last year, I was consistently told that all “mzungu’s” (white people) look the same to the locals here, as such, I did not expect many people to remember who I was. I was presently surprised to find that this was far from the truth. We first visited our favourite internet café – Dot Café – and I was greeted with a hug by the owner. Similar reactions followed from others we had met last year and every time I was amazed.
As the afternoon came, the thing I had been looking forward to the most came up on the agenda. Aubrey and I made a trip back to Tuleeni Orphanage. For those of you whom I have talked about my Tanzania experiences with, this place was likely the focal point of our conversation. The children of Tuleeni have constantly been on my mind since I left last May; rarely does a day go by when I do not thing about Irene, Everest, Felix and all the rest. As we made our way towards the orphanage, navigating our way around the pot holes on the dusty roads, my thoughts were filled with anticipation. I wondered whether they would remember who I was like all the others in Moshi had. Volunteers come and go from Tuleeni all the time, and as such, I doubted that the memories they had with me would be as vivid as the days I can recall spending with them. Irene, who has had a bigger impact on my life than anyone I have ever met, was only 5 the last time I was here, and as I walked towards Tuleeni, I came to the conclusion that it is likely that she would not know who I was.
When we turned the corner to see the gates of Tuleeni, I was met with the cries of those who were outside: “Graeme!” Shedrack, Jamesi and others came running towards me. They remembered. This reaction is one of those moments that you know will last a life time. After hugging the children who were outside, I went in to find the smiling faces of all the kids who changed my life. And contrary to what I anticipated would happen, Irene came running towards me yelling my name and gave me a big hug. For those of you whom I have shared my experiences with, you can probably understand what this was like for me, yet I don’t feel it is something I can begin to describe with words. The rest of our time at Tuleeni made it feel as though I had never left. We watched the boys do handstands and flips, we kicked around a soccer ball, we tossed Queeny in the air, and we filled our time with laughter.
The old saying goes, “the home is where the heart is.” Well, my heart is here. I am home.