Dear Family & Friends,

I hope January has given you all a chance to recover from the holiday season. I've been back in Monduli for a little over two weeks now. My life has been fairly eventful since I last wrote, and of course I've seen quite a few of you in the past two months. Since most of you are reading my mailings because you want to know about Tanzania, I won't spend too long describing my vacation, but a little time is warranted, I suppose...

The last time I wrote, I was getting ready to get on a plane to begin my extensive jaunt across hemispheres. The day before, one of the PCVs who was in my same training class, and who was closing her service (COSing) had her birthday party in Dar before she left. There were (I think) about 60 PCVs from various training classes present at the local Ethiopian restaurant. A good time was had by all, much 'tej' was consumed.

My last night in Dar, I was able to have supper and a small get-together with some of the people who have been my best friends here, but who were COSing. There were many people to whom I didn't get the chance to say a proper goodbye... I was glad that right before I got in the taxi to the airport I could see the friends who I would not see in the next year -- but who I know I must see sometime in the next five years.

So I got on that flight to Amsterdam at around midnight on the 8th of December (really the 9th). Fortunately, there were three other PCVs on the flight with me, including my buddy Brandon. Unfortunately, even though we were two hours early for check-in, we got the last seats on the flight (Brandon was almost shut out!), which meant we were scattered around the airplane. However, when we got to the Amsterdam airport and were all waiting for our respective flights out of that airport (we were all going different places) we got to kick back underneath the golden arches of the Amsterdam McDonald's.

We all went our separate ways, and finally I went down the stairs to the platform and got my train to Paris to see my sister. The train, which went across the Netherlands, Belgium, and northern France, was about the cushiest ride I'd had in more than two years. Part way through the trip, a man wheeled a little cart through the aisle, selling, "Coffee? Tea? Beer?" OK, so as I was whisked across Europe, I started really feeling like a hick; all goggle-eyed at the green countryside and modern highways.

I was greeted at the train station by my sister Andrea, who has been working in Paris for the last year and a half or so. She works for Sarah Lawrence College's study-abroad program. She and a French woman coordinate all the students from a number of American colleges and universities who are taking an academic year in Paris.

If I needed a quick immersion in culture, I got it -- the very first night I was home (sleep deprived mildly jet-lagged) we went out to a Parisian restaurant with some of her friends. It was interesting... I was definitely back in the 'developed' world, but I was definitely not in a familiar one. In fact, at least in Tanzania I can speak the language. Years of forgotten high school Spanish didn't help much keeping conversation with her friends.

My time there, however, was a blast. Since Andrea had to work most days, I just got myself out into the subway (Le Metro) and saw some sights. I did typically touristy stuff, like see the Pêre LaChaise cemetery (resting place of Chopin, Oscar Wilde, and Jim Morrison, among many others), The Eiffel Tower, Arc du Triomphe (please forgive my spelling!) and a number of gardens and museum exhibits, including an evening at the Louvre (the Mona Lisa is really small!). Andrea and I also went to see "Shaft 2000", to give me a jump-start on my Americana.

We also went that week to see "POEtry", a (sort of) musical play based on the writings of Edgar Allen Poe, written mostly in German, but with music by American rock musician Lou Reed. It was, suffice it to say, definitely European. Lots of people dressed in black with white face paint making tortured expressions and (metaphorically) drilling holes in their heads.

Andrea and I also went to the weekly street market near her house. Actually, it reminded me more of Tanzania than it did the States. In fact, I found many things in Europe reminded me more of Africa than the U.S. For instance, upon entering and leaving a restaurant in Paris, it was customary to greet the chef if you can see him or her; that's very common in Africa, but I rarely see it in the States.

Speaking of restaurants, Andrea and I did go to a traditional French-style supper. We didn't go to the meal until between 8 and 9 PM -- there's another similarity between Europe and Africa. There were four courses... but the third was the most memorable -- nothin' but cheese! They brought out a big platter with about twenty different kinds of cheese on it, representing a wide variety of consistency and... um... aroma. We were allowed to slice (or scoop) off as much as we wanted, and then consume it with the baguette we were given.

So after a few days of trawling around Paris, I got on the train again and went to visit my old friend Randy in Brussels. True to his usual style, Randy had a hundred places to go that day, and took me along for the ride. I had the privilege of sitting in on one of his voice lessons (Randy is a graduate student in vocal music at the University there.)

From there, we drove out to Ghent, where my failed memory of history tells me some treaty or other was signed. There was an international conference on children's rights, and Randy had volunteered to bring some publications from his church's organization. Afterwards, we spent an evening in Ghent, got some hot Belgian waffles from a street vendor to stave off hunger, and took a walk around town.

We came upon an ice rink in the town center. They were cleaning the ice to prepare for the next skating session, and Randy asked me if I'd like to got out on the ice. "Well... I didn't bring my skates..." was all I could reply. And so it was that we went skating for a half hour or so; I hadn't been skating in over five years and was definitely wobbly. It was great, though -- all the local teenagers were out on the ice, the boys showing off their plumage and dexterity for the girls. It took me back to my roller-rink days. Randy called his wife Sibylle back in Brussels after a little while... I must admit that Randy was quite a sight, in full suit and tie (for the conference), talking on his cell phone, while skating around in circles on the ice.

Over the next few days, we did a lot of this and that, playing music together, sharing stories, having philosophical discussions while running errands, buying a Christmas tree, and generally having a good time. After a few days, it was time to say goodbye again, and I headed back to Amsterdam. I decided to take full advantage of the European-style McDonald's again (at the airport), so I had a cold beer with my veggie burger, and mayonnaise on my French fries.

A 9 1/2 hour flight carried me into Boston, where I met my college friend Anthony, who is now doing graduate work there. I thought I would be exhausted and jet-lagged, but we managed to stay up well into the night playing Cleveland Monopoly (Monopoly with Cleveland street names) and catching up. Over the next few days, I got to spend time with my old UU friend Sarah Gibb, and to run into a bunch of old friends (Nathan, Chuck, Jessie) who I didn't know were working there in town.

A short little commuter flight got me on the ground in Columbus, Ohio where a family delegation was waiting for me with open arms. A nice hot American meal was waiting for me at my mother's house.

Of course, if I detail everything I did while at home, you'd be reading this message into next week. It's enough to say that I had a lovely time seeing old friends and indulging in American treats over the course of the next three weeks in Columbus, Cleveland, and Pittsburgh. Highlights include:

• Christmas with the family. Ya can't beat that.
• Seeing some live punk music, a genre in short supply in Tz.
• Attending the wedding of an old family friend -- who is three years younger than I am!
• Seeing toddler children of my friends who had not yet been born when I left.

• Cosmic Bowling
• Drinking some original Dr. Pepper from one of the oldest bottling plants in the country.
• Seeing the "Aluminum" Exhibit at the Museum of Art

• A superior New Year's Eve party where we partied like rock stars until 6AM.
• A tour of new buildings at Case Western Reserve U.
• Seeing "Dude, Where's My Car?", a new record for minimal amount of brain cells required to enjoy a movie (considering I saw it on Jan. 1st, I definitely was in the right state of mind.)

One thing I haven't mentioned yet is the weather while I was home. When I left Dar es Salaam, it was in the mid-90s and almost 100% humidity. Fortunately, I got a little bit of a buffer zone in Europe. Paris was rainy and in the high 40s, Brussels dry and in the 30s. In Boston it was right around freezing and it snowed before I left. On the day I arrived in Columbus, the high was 8 degrees Fahrenheit. On my way back to Dar, it was more or less a straight shot... the total travel time was about 36 hours to make the weather change. Fortunately, I arrived in Dar at about 8 AM, so it was only in the low 80s when I got off the plane.

Backtracking... I got on my flight out of the USA just fine. When I got to Amsterdam, I checked in at the gate. A little later, they made an announcement that they had oversold the flight to Dar es Salaam, and if anyone could go on a later flight, they should come up to the desk. I had actually wanted to go on a different flight in the first place, since the regular flight arrived at 11:10 PM, which means I would have to pay $10 for a taxi instead of 15 cents for a daladala. I also had no hotel reservations, so I would probably have to go check the guest book at the Peace Corps standard hotels, and then knock on doors at 2AM.

So I went up and told them I could take a later flight. After a lot of bureaucracy, I got a flight for about 7 hours later. This would have me arriving at 8 AM, with plenty of time to get a daladala and arrange a hotel room (and actually saving me one night's worth of hotel costs, since I was in the air that night). I also got free meal vouchers for the rest of the day, and... about $250 worth of Dutch Guilders, cash. I sat in amazement as I realized I had just scheduled a more convenient flight for myself, and received about one and a half months' salary for doing so.

And the coolness doesn't end there: Also supposed to be on that flight were two other PCVs I knew, who'd gotten bumped to the same flight as me because their connecting flight was late. So the three of us had a few hours to go into downtown Amsterdam to hang out. We checked out some of the 'coffee shops' (marijuana is actually on the menu in most of these places) and had some good Dutch beers before going back for our flight.

I had a good night's sleep that night after 36 hours of travel, not to mention the hot Dar weather. I got to the office early the next day (Monday) to be confronted with a shock for which I was completely unprepared. I found out that about the time I was touching down in Dar, one of my fellow Volunteers was killed in Ruaha National Park about 200 miles to the west.

Natalie, a volunteer from Dodoma, was on safari with a friend from the US that day. They got out of the car to get pictures of some elephants (getting out of the car is usually prohibited). One elephant, for whatever reason, was intimidated and charged. Natalie's friend and the car driver made it back to the car. Natalie did not.

As you can imagine, when we heard the news the next morning, it was a bit of a shock. To add to this, Natalie had been on her way to Dar es Salaam for the Mid-Service conference of her training class... so all the teachers who had sworn in with her were in town. This was both good and bad. It threw a big monkey wrench into the whole schedule (Some individual meetings had been scheduled for Monday morning, when the news first came out.) On the other hand, it meant that the whole class was in town to support each other. We were able to organize a very nice memorial service that would have been logistically difficult had everyone not already been in town.

I was in charge of music for the memorial service. It made me feel... well, good, in a way. One of the last things I had done in Dar before leaving was DJing the swearing-in party of the new PCVs. This whole thing made me feel as if, in both joy and pain, my role was to provide the appropriate music. I dunno... it's nice to have a comfortable role like that, somehow.

Natalie wasn't my best friend, but she wasn't merely an acquaintance, either. She was far away from my site, so I didn't see her often, but I'd been to parties and conferences with her, laughed with her, danced with her, played cards with her. She was most well known for being a great friend to anyone and everyone.

After the heavy emotional time in Dar, I was ready to get back to Monduli. I hadn't been there in seven weeks, which is a long time to be away from home. I got back to find that the rain had continued pretty much the whole time I'd been gone... which meant that my front yard was knee-to-waist-deep in grass and other plants. I also found out that a very large tree had fallen on my house. Fortunately, because it was so large, some branches hit the ground on the way down, breaking its fall. Basically, it crunched one corner of the roof in my house, not even enough to let the rain in. However, to be on the safe side, the school replaced that section of my roof.

Another exciting story from my first week back is how I was pickpocketed in Arusha to the tune of about $30, which is a lot of money here. Here's what happened: I had a wad of money in my shirt pocket. The pocket has a button, which I usually close to make it very hard to pick. However, I had just been in a store and had paid out of that pocket, and I might not have re-buttoned it. I was entering a crowded corner of the Arusha bus stand, and a guy walking the other direction reached over and plucked the money right out. I had stuff in both hands so I couldn't even grab him, but I whacked his arm with mine, and he dropped the money on the ground. Immediately, another guy picked it up and ran off with it. I didn't even see his face. They might have been working together, or it might just have been dumb luck.

I turned back to the first guy, to whom I'd drawn a lot of attention, so the other folks were grabbing him and holding him for me. One of the things I had in my hands was a new grass slasher I had just bought (in fact, one of the reasons I was walking so confidently was because I thought "nobody's going to mess with a guy carrying a slasher!") but I guess he calculated right, in that I couldn't quite bring myself to hack the guy's head in two. I am sad now that it didn't occur to me to hit him with the flat side rather than the edge.

Anyway, I charged the guy screaming and waving the slasher. I then did something I have not done since I was 12 years old: I punched the guy in the face, hard. Twice. Hard enough so that my hand hurt until the next morning. I had a crowd welling up behind me, and of course I felt another person slide his hand into my pants pocket. I turned around and of course, the person denied it... and not being positive who it was, I didn't pursue it, but I did get more angry. I violently waved everyone off with the slasher to give myself space.

I turned back to the guy, and everyone was saying "Twende polisi!" ("Let's go to the police!") It was already 5:00 PM, and I was worried about getting the last bus to Monduli. Moreover, I was thinking of a story my second master told me about how he dragged a thief to the police once, only to be told, "We can't really do anything; we don't have any proof -- if you have a problem with this guy, you should have finished it out there on the street."

Well, I didn't want to kill the guy, nor did I want the crowd to, so I took the bottle of drinking water I had in my backpack and poured it slowly over the guy's head and into his pants. Then I berated the crowd for all being a bunch of thieves and stormed away.

The thing that makes me the angriest about all this is that it confirms my worst stereotype of the young guys that loiter around all the time: when there's a situation like that, it draws a crowd not because people want real justice to be done, it's because a situation like that means a temporary suspension of the rules. They can all do whatever they want because nobody's looking. I couldn't even drop stuff out of my hands to protect myself because it would have been stolen immediately (though I did get my loaf of bread back.) It's like when a guy runs off with a white person's backpack and everybody runs after him and catches him... so they can tear open the back pack and divvy up the contents.b

Fortunately, that's Arusha and I don't live there. I live in Monduli, where school has just opened, and the staff and I are excited to start a new school term. I've got a number projects in mind; I wont go into too much detail here, though, since it will embarrass me quite a bit if they don't work out.

However, we do have a school committee for girls' education, of which I am a member, and we are planning a different event each month to improve girls' studies or lives. As a part of this, we also have a Girls' Self-Empowerment conference planned for April, in which all three secondary schools in Monduli would participate. I am trying to organize an expedition to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro at the end of this term as well. There are various other little 'extracurricular' things in which I'm trying to be involved, but I'll keep you posted as they come along.

I hope you all had a lovely holiday season. Of course, if you have any mass letters of your own describing your life in the past year (as many do around holiday time) feel free to send it along to me. I'll be in touch.

Tupo,
Ethan

P.S. The web site is long overdue for an update. I'll be doing that soon, and I'll send you a note when I do.

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