Epilogue

So getting home has been challenging to say the least.

Flying out of Dar gave me mixed emotions. It was a dreary day. We went to a Japanese restaurant with the office (only the ex-pats since it was Eid, the end of Ramadan, which is a holiday in Tanzania). I got some really fabulous gifts: a woodcarving that says "Karibu" (welcome) from Mwenge market, close to where I first lived in Dar; a festively colorful wrap, after borrowing one from my roommate all summer; and a Sun King Pro, the solar lantern that I tested and worked into our business plan this summer.

As we lifted off at dusk, it took me some time to get oriented to the city from the air. First I identified the major arterial streets. From there, I spotted the lush marsh/field right next to my house and the general location of the office. We kept moving northeast, allowing me to trace my way up the peninsula. But then, the clouds suddenly obstructed my view. I wanted just another glimpse. The Hash was happening as I flew overhead. I wanted to put myself in their shoes with a visual reference. But it was gone. My desperation and anxiety surprised me. Being preoccupied with holding onto the images of Tanzania seemed silly. Moments later a feeling of awe and amazement displaced this feeling of confusion when we broke free of the clouds. The tops of the clouds were majestic and powerful with the setting sun. I thought about how my parents have seen these sights so frequently from the cockpit. And also how often I've had the luxury of flying. And how so many people have never witnessed this beauty, not just those we were serving in rural low-income areas, but even my colleagues and acquaintances in Dar.

I was in a trance, so deep that I didn't realize that the air vent over my row (I had it to myself) was open in a way that made a deafening sound. The woman in the row behind me got up to shut it, and the absolute quiet shocked me.

Fast forward to Dubai. I didn't get on the standby flight, and my hopes were dwindling that I'd be able to make it home in the next week. Luckily my mom's friend (former Northwest, current Emirates pilot) lives there and generously offered me lodging. His place is on the 24th floor of a building just south of The Palm Jumeira. This is one of the most iconic images of Dubai: a completely fabricated community in the Persian Gulf from the ground to the tip of the Atlantis turrets. Such a contrast to Dar.

The accommodations were lovely. Chris jetted off to Melbourne in the morning, so I had the place to myself. The next morning I dreaded standby roulette, exhausted by the uncertainty and not feeling the thrills of getting a sweet deal. I quit. I bought a ticket from Dubai that would leave the next afternoon, laying over in Zurich for the night and then connecting in New York. Sigh. Relief. I'm coming home for real.

I don't really know how I spent my day. Other than wandering to the beach and changing some money, I didn't do much. I wanted to put this feeling of carefree lounging in a bottle, to be remembered during the upcoming stressful school year.

Knowing that I was departing on my birthday, I went to the beach in the morning, taking the bare necessities so that I could comfortably take a dip in the gulf. The water is almost uncomfortable warm, but it was nice to float around for a bit. The heat and the sun make the beach uncomfortable after an hour's time, so I packed up my stuff to head back to pack up and get out of town. I spotted a man and a couple camels. Birthday camel ride?? Yes please. I wondered how much it would cost. "50 AED" he told me (about $20). It was exactly the amount that I had carried with me. Seemed like the right thing to do. I don't think that he believed that it was my birthday, but I negotiated a bit of a longer trip so that he could drop me at the path back to the apartment. Success.

Flight to Zurich was fine. Night in Zurich was fine. Now comes the part where everything unravels.

I get seriously questioned at the airport about where I've been. I understand. My travels are complicated. I can't really explain them myself. Not a good start to the morning. Random check in security. Then flagged at the gate to get my bags searched. Nothing can disturb me. I'm going to be home in time for Fuqua Friday. I have a direct ride from the airport with Allison. I can. not. wait. to see her and the rest of my pals.

On board. Pushed back. Engine down! Not starting up. They are oversharing, and I can tell that we are not going to leave today. They say that they can get the part from London within the window of flight time for the crew. No way. They take us back to the gate. They take us off the plane. Then they tell us we won't be leaving until tomorrow at 8:30 AM. I'm initially one of the first in the line, but I get annoyed by the folks cutting us off. I sit. I blog. Thanks for giving me an outlet.

They'll put us up for the night. I figure that being one of the last to be helped, if I approach the agents calmly and respectfully, they will end this chaotic rebooking on a positive note. I also strategically think that they probably make the cheapest arrangements initially, and I might end up with a sweet deal. If I get the dregs, that's OK, too. Because I'm embracing these moments of carefree lounging. I'm recreating those views on my launch out of Dar and onto my next chapter. I'm savoring the moments. I just hope they feed me because I'm a broke-ass grad student. 

Sweetest goodbye

So I'm all packed up. Backpacking backpack, duffel, and backpack. I'm deserting some of my most "African-ed" belongings. I'll stop by the office tomorrow to say my goodbyes. I've never been a fan of goodbyes. I feel like that's all I'm doing these days.

I'm back on my iPhone (this summer I mooched Allison's old iPhone, which I'm selling to my coworker), and it's strangely foreign. I also pulled out my wallet, something I haven't carried since arriving in Tanzania. Pretty prepared to board the plane tomorrow, but I wish that I knew when I would get outta Dubai. My flight is tomorrow at 6:20 PM and I'll fly through Doha, arriving in Dubai in the middle of the night. I have a long layover before I try for the first standby flight to Atlanta.

My last days here have been filled with dancing and drinking... just the way I like to leave a town. Jackie's Bar hosted me for some delicious dinner on Friday, and I'm piggybacking on other North American going away parties ('tis the season), including a BBQ today.

Last week my rafiki Fernando stopped me on my walk to the office and introduced me to his baby (usually I see him walking his other son to school in the morning). He invited me to see his home and meet his wife. While this is generally not something I would accept, I felt like after seeing him on a daily basis that he was a trustworthy character, and I was legitimately curious to see an authentic Dar household. We walked around the corner and he said hi to his neighbors. His curtained doorway opened into a room smaller than my bedroom with a queen bed, a couch and all of the family's belongings piled along the edges. There was barely enough room for the four of us (including a woman making ribbon banners, not sure what her relationship was to Fernando and his wife). Big smiles all around, lots of "karibus" to welcome me and lots of "asantes" to thank them for their hospitality. I went to work feeling very curious. I can complain about my first world problems... or even my third world problems, but the fact that this family appreciates life and is so willing to welcome a stranger into their unbelievably small and simple home... it's disorienting.

The next day a man with his infant baby on his back approached me, saying his son would like to meet me. We walked together a bit and chatted. They were heading to the clinic for a check-up. When we parted ways, he said "I know you can't give me your contacts but I would like to see you again," an uncharacteristically direct statement for a Tanzanian. His awareness of my understanding that giving your contact information demonstrates interest between men and women was refreshing after having to decline the request on other occasions.

Both of these stories show the sincere friendship and curiosity of Tanzanians. After being here for three months these interactions overshadow those less pleasant exchanges, like the bus station and some not so nice conversations with men (always men!).

Overall I'm still intrigued by the culture here. I'm not sure what people really think of me, but hopefully I was able to represent the US and Duke well. I don't have the opportunity to express my gratitude to everyone that has helped make this experience rewarding and transformational.

As is the general traveling international assumption, no news is good news, so if you don't hear from me until I'm back in the states don't worry. The soonest I'll touch down in Atlanta is 5:45 AM on 8/22 but it could be a couple days later. As an advanced apology, I am not one for souvenirs, so I come home pretty much empty-handed. One thing I'm very grateful to return with is the package of red licorice nibs that my friend, Daniel, gave our Zambia crew before we left Durham. The fact that I still have them symbolizes no crisis moments where I needed the comforts of US treats. I can't wait to dig into them, either to manage traveling woes or to celebrate my homecoming.

Thanks for reading and following me on this journey. I hope that I didn't overshare (a word that my San Francisco Family Dinner crew invented to describe our sometimes dramatic retellings).

Tanzanian epic summer complete! Caterpillar/Kirforce/Kiki/Kirsten out!

Things in threes

I've written about my life ratio before. I like seeing trends and quantifying the patterns of my life.

My summer seems to be "brought to you" by the number 3, stealing a line from Sesame Street.

• Three long round-trip bus rides: Nairobi, Iringa and Arusha
• Three reunions: Anne, Jen and Blake
• Three trips to our closest stations in Chanika and Mbagala
• Three glorious pikipiki rides (none with helmets, sorry Mom and Dad!)
• Three dance parties
• Three local beers: Kilimanjaro, Safari and Serengeti
• Three pieces of meat on a mishkaki
• Three sections of hair in the braids I regularly sport (old school without a dryer)
• Three premature partings of acquaintances 
• Three weddings I missed in the states
• Three weddings I attended in East Africa
• Three names: Kirsten, Kiki and my Dar Hash name...
• Three (hundred) followers I got us up to for the company Twitter
• Three ways to buy a solar lantern (I came up with the third option to sell the lantern separately from the panel initially)
• Three (thousand) shillings, the standard bajaj fare to the peninsula
• Three (hundred) shillings, the dolla dolla fare
• Three types of bug bites: ants, mosquitoes and flies
• Three (or more) nights in Dubai... depending on when I get on a standby flight.
• Three days until I leave
• Three months (yesterday!)

Outta time

"I'm outta time and all I got is 4 minutes, 4 minutes, hey!"

This post is inspired by and reminiscent of my time at Sunset when I "starred" in a parody video for this song with my amazingly creative coworker, RJ. I'm feeling really nostalgic these days.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

I'm outta time. This is my last week in the office, and I will fly out of Dar next Monday evening.

This is truly truly my last chance dance, and I'm taking it all in. When I return to Duke, I will return to a full calendar of incredible events and club activities. A full academic year of interesting and engaging classes. A full incoming group of first years. But half of my Durham life won't be there to welcome me home. Beyond the cultural shift, I think that the mass exodus of my supporting network will be the most shocking realization.

It's easy to get ahead of myself and think about the ultimate termination of this unbelievable adventure that has been business school. I have traveled around the world with classmates and friends. I have created intimate networks in places I never imagined. I have struggled to maintain a sense of my past life, and I must apologize to those whom I've neglected as I've pursued these self-centered dreams and ambitions. Those of you that have offered your unrelenting love and enthusiasm from afar despite my missing important life events, I am so appreciative of your support.

But I need to focus on the present. Put my eye on the prize and chug along. A lot can (and will) happen in a week.

Instead of "lasts" I'm continuing to pursue "firsts" here in Dar.

• On my plate: Prosciutto, hamburger, whole fried fish, sushi, fondue skewers (octopus, lobster, prawns). Remember when I was a vegan? Weird. 
• On the beach: Ferry to Kipepeo on the south side of Dar, roadtrip to Bagamoyo 40 km to the north. 
• At the office: Wrapping up my projects and rolling out my plan to the market.

What will this last week bring? Hopefully not too much stress. I don't want my return to be a reality check because I feel like I've been living a reality. But, it's true, it's an alternative reality. The reality I've experienced here is so different than the reality of school. 

My ills: I'm fearing a "does not compute" and figurative screen of death upon my return. My car will definitely be dead, and its plates are definitely expired. I haven't walked on carpet in more than 90 days. I wouldn't say that I look like I've lived in Africa (longer hair, not particularly sun-kissed and definitely not nutrient-deficient, I bet my blood pressure has increased with my return to animal products).

My thrills: I'm really excited about boarding a plane (not a bus), sleeping in a bed (with sheets), taking warm showers (with my amazing climate curtain!), using my iPhone (with Siri), eating BBQ and salmon (before I make an effort to go back to the green side), hugging my friends, riding my bike and running.

My mixed emotions: I never went to Zanzibar (although there's still technically time), and I didn't climb Kili. I will miss the vibe here: food, music, dance. I felt like the things that I did here mattered: to my coworkers, to our customers, to the people I met. I feel like the things I do in school don't have the same instant pleasure. I hope that I can resolve these conflicting feelings without backpedaling. 

"Time is waiting, we only got four minutes to save the world, no hesitating!"

Instant pleasure

Again, I'm at a loss. The words will not capture the moments, the seconds, the instants of pleasure that I have encountered over the last week. Alas, I must try to attempt to recreate them. The people (my loyal readers) deserve to know. 

Last week I did something very out of character. I wouldn't say that I'm generally a planner (impromptu trips to Nicaragua and Minnesota happened last year) because I love living in the moment. But usually I embark on adventures in a responsible manner. 

What does Kirsten do when she has just three weeks left at her internship? Oh, she spontaneously packs her bags and heads for the hills! Grateful for: awesome work culture and last minute boss approvals, time-consuming yet hassle-free travel, the most hospitable hosts and interim "assignments" that challenged my Excel skills.

So, what happened exactly? Where has Kirsten been and how can she be this grateful? I'll try to present this in an orderly fashion.

Setting: The weekend before was pretty typical Dar es Salaam: Jackie's, mishkaki (yup, I've indulged), dance parties and feasting. We said goodbye to most of the interns; I'm the last woman standing in the office. We went through a serious review of our business plan by some investors, which means that everyone has been feeling the pressure at work. Monday was the memorial hash for our friend that passed and over 100 people attended, very moving display of support.

Background/Purpose: I have been hoping to get up to see my MEM/MBA classmate/colleague/friend, Jen (you can read her incredible blog here) and two other Duke MEMs at their summer posting outside Arusha. They are working with a conservation organization and really experiencing the wild side of Africa. They taking sleeping on the floor (ahem, tents), electricity (huge solar array, 5 kW by my rudimentary calculations), running water (pumped from the valley, it is so dry up here) and cooking (family style!) to a whole new level!

Inspiration: The idea, initially, was that I would try to meet them for a safari. Although that didn't quite work out, "safari"  literally translates to trip, so in a way, I was still on safari and saw enough of the natural world to count as my African summer safari (when I was in Zambia in January our crew did a walking safari, so I got to see most of the critters through that adventure).

What actually happened is this:

• Monday mid-day: Jen and Kirsten chat about the potential for her to get up there
• Monday evening: Kirsten goes on the hash
• Monday night: Jen and Kirsten "hash" out more logistics, Kirsten calls boss, boss oks trip, Kirsten packs a bag and sets her alarm for 4:30.
• Tuesday morning: Kirsten doesn't even remember getting to Ubungo, but she thinks that she took a bus. She buys a ticket for a bus about to depart for Arusha and the trip is underway!
• Tuesday evening: Kirsten arrives in Arusha without phone credit or TZS so she resolves her communications and money situation and tracks down her colleague, Jodie, who has her own start-up in Arusha and has been working with Kirsten on some projects. They get African-style burritos and chill.
• Wednesday morning: Kirsten meets up with staff taking a load of diesel, cabbage, mattresses, etc to camp. The trio grabs chai and hits the road.
• Wednesday afternoon: Arrive in Noloholo. Settle into lovely dorm. Make no-bake cookies. Read in the sun on the patio. 
• Wednesday night: Watch a spectacular sunset. Enjoy a home-cooked meal. Exhaustion doesn't allow Kirsten to stay up to welcome Jen back from the Tarangire safari.
• Thursday morning: Early to rise, reunion breakfast, meet and greet. Turns out Kirsten has Giardiasis, which is quickly treated. Disaster averted!
• Thursday: Time in the office, Kirsten picks up some fun excel and program development projects.
• Thursday night: Kirsten realizes that she's probably not leaving tomorrow... or anytime soon. Kirsten runs loops of the grounds. Zen moments.
• Friday: Kirsten dives headfirst into Excel, creates some fun new tools. Clearly is not back in Dar as she told her boss when initially planning the trip. Earliest she could be back is Sunday, but is convinced to leave on Sunday. Phones are down all day, but gets the okay from the boss when the network is back up that evening.
• Saturday: Rewarded for sticking around with a trip to the local Masai "boma" for a coming of age ceremony (Wikipedia sums it up nicely). "Training" pays off when cow is sliced in chunks off of the slab, stuck in hand, inserted in mouth, chew chew chew, swallow, repeat frantically more than a dozen times. Also involves inserting a spoon in a congealed mixture and stomaching "tender parts and blood" delicacy. True carnivore test!
• Saturday night: Apple crisp, ice cream, bonfire. So many comforts!
• Sunday: Leave the bush. On the drive we see a giraffe, zebra, gazelle, ostrich and more! Jodie hosts again.
• Monday: 4:45 AM pikipiki pick up, bus ticket secured, back to Dar in time for the hash and to receive a Dar hash name!

Conclusion: I am basking in the bliss of this transformational experience. Instant pleasures all around. This is why I came to Africa.

Now to instantly check back into work and get things done. Making moves!!

Under African skies

Paul Simon, your words ring so true. I just have to borrow them. Thanks.

"Under African Skies"

Joseph's face was black as night

The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes

His path was marked

By the stars in the southern hemisphere

And he walked his days

Under African skies

This is the story of how we begin to remember

This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

After the dream of falling and calling your name out

These are the roots of rhythm

And the roots of rhythm remain.

As many of you know, I'm an avid Hash House Harrier. The Dar es Salaam HHH has been particularly good to me during my time here. It's a breath of familiarity in a sea of uncertainty and chaos. Since I discovered that expats hash, I've missed only one Monday evening gathering of the hashers.

In short, hashing combines my five favorite activities: jogging, hunting (of the scavenging sort), drinking (beer), singing (out of tune) and laughing (during all previously mentioned activities).

At Duke (Law... ahem... Fuqua would never perform in such a disorderly fashion... high transaction costs and too many inefficiencies), we feature a live "hare" (setting a trail of flour and chalk just ahead of the runners) and gallivant through our Gothic campus. The naming ceremony takes precedence over all other circle traditions, which is the result of low requirements for naming, high attendance and way too much access to scandalous information about our classmates. One of the great things about having an extra year at Duke with the combo MEM/MBA is that I get to take part in fun times with fun people for just that much longer.

In Dar, hares set the shredded paper trail the night before (hoping it's not swept away by the locals) and then accompany us on the run, instructing us at broken trails and checkpoints. We dodge laundry lines and watoto (children) in the slums, puddles in the dirt roads, snakes in the bushes and rocks on the cliffs and beaches (see below). Songs dominate the circle with tunes triggered by keywords, responses to interrogation and complaints. Names are given only to deserving and dedicated hashers (I'm still Just Kiki at number 6). My time here is short, but the folks are welcoming and warm. I've definitely found a number of very paternal Brits and Europeans to keep me honest.

Last night's run was absolutely stunning. It circled the tip of the Msasani Peninisula from the beach on the Northwest across to the East and along the cliffs on the East Coast (see above) and back to the Yacht Club.

It was too good to be true. The night did not end well. One of the staple members of the Hash collapsed at the endpoint. He was looked after by a young doctor until the ambulance arrived, but he had serious head trauma from his fall and was unconscious. As he would have demanded, we continued on with the traditional fanfare, albeit with subdued fanning. We learned at the end of our reduced revelry that he had, in fact, died of a heart attack. We were shocked. Many of the longtime Dar hashers were very close to him. He lived a full life (although still not long enough, he was in his early 60's).

Death seems to haunt me. I feel as if I have said premature goodbyes to more people in the past six years than one should have to in a lifetime. This close encounter is a reminder to be safe, be healthy and be careful... but do it in a way that makes you happy and fills you with satisfaction. Because life is short and YOLO.

This is the story of how we begin to remember

This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

After the dream of falling and calling your name out

These are the roots of rhythm

And the roots of rhythm remain.

Pleased to meat you

So. I have a confession. Family and friends get ready.

I've been consuming animal products.

Not just the occasional cheese or milk.

Let's take a step back. So I've been mostly vegan for 10 years. It started as a class project. I researched the health incentives of eating a plant-based diet and the complications of the US food industry (corn subsidy, yikes!). Adding to that I like planet Earth (use your water resources responsibly) and appreciate animals (let's give them some space, not pump them with hormones and let them naturally fertilize their grazing grounds, thanks).

I've successfully survived navigating menus and declining delicacies in Europe (Italy was a pretty easy home base, France and Hungary were the biggest challenges), visits to the Midwest, family gatherings, weddings, travels to Latin America, India and Zambia.

But I've found myself being less confident in my response to "why vegan" over the past year. I'm mostly concerned with the environmental impacts of our diets; luckily, so are other consumers, which has improved the access to local and sustainable animal-product food sources. North Carolina has epic barbecue (so I've heard) and fresh crab on the coast (so I've tasted). After I slid off the wagon and made the decision to partake in a crab boil in May 2011, I saddled back up and maintained the no meat and mostly no dairy/egg through the next year.

Then I tried some sushi before my departure to Tanzania. And it's been a downward spiral since then.

Before arriving in Tanzania, I created a number of goals for the impact I wanted to have this summer and the things that I wanted to accomplish. One of those bullets was to evaluate my vegan lifestyle. I explained to coworkers that I was mostly vegan, so meals in and with the office have always incorporated vegetarian options. In social settings, dining is definitely more about the experience than consuming food. Sampling all of the dishes is the most respectful way to show your appreciation. I've felt the vegan guilt throughout the last 10 years, but it's even harder when there's a communication barrier. I've found myself appearing quite rude without the capacity to explain myself.

Here's the play-by-play.

I ate ice cream.

And then eggs.

But did not consume this at a birthday buffet.

I sampled the fish here.

I did not eat this.

I resisted the urge to eat this roast at wedding in Nairobi.

And then I went to the wedding in Dar this weekend. I didn't eat meat at the reception, but...

We went to our favorite place, Jackie's Bar, where our crew chowed down on the best mishkaki (kebabs) in town. I still declined.

Insert total meat consumption breakdown. The next day I went to a poolside barbecue to celebrate a coworker's daughter's third birthday. They had chicken or beef. Those were literally the only offerings. I was starving. I ate chicken. Very tasty with the pilipili (pepper) sauce. Then I ate beef. Then they had fish, and I ate that too. I proceeded to eat meat all afternoon/evening.

How did I feel? Very satisfied and not sick at all. It won't be a common practice back in the states because I still can't afford the high quality cuts that I'd want to invest in if I was going to put something in my belly, but I will definitely take a special event into consideration.

Yesterday I had fruit and chapati for breakfast; lentil dal with rice and naan for lunch; fruit and veggies for dinner. Evidence that I'm still primarily vegetarian and vegan, so don't start celebrating.

But I'm warning you that you might not recognize my plate at some future gathering. Pleased to meat you!