Stepping forward...

by Terri Horn, returned IWM who served in Bukoba, Tanzania.

On a warm, 70 degree Friday afternoon in Las Cruces, New Mexico, I am sitting outside at Starbucks writing my last blog while the rest of the country is covered in snow. I have begun graduate school in New Mexico, pursuing a Master’s degree in Sociology in the hopes of one day working as a program coordinator of a non-profit organization that advocates for the rights of those in third-world countries. In 1 month, nearly everything about my “environment” has changed. I am in a new place, with a schedule that is about 100x busier than it used to be, and am now working at a university, teaching and grading papers instead of researching, writing grants, and interviewing. It has been a challenge to adapt to. When I was in Tanzania, my schedule was so “relax” and informal that I rarely had to plan my life. Now, I live off my planner and cell phone and am operating on 3 hours less of sleep than I was getting in Tanzania. Luckily, my appetite has returned and I do not feel as much “pain” or lonely moments as I did when I first returned. I have new focuses now and am glad to be back in the United States. I am grateful to be in a culture that I understand, a culture that accepts me, a culture that doesn’t make immediate assumptions about me because of my race and gender. It makes me think that I need to be trying even harder to eliminate some prejudices that I had and still have.

It’s really true what they say. Hindsight is 20/20. In looking back on my time in Tanzania, it isn’t my success that I see. I don’t see myself working with women and children, writing grants that were eventually funded in thousands for the women’s organization. I see the moments when I was tired, the moments I snapped, the moments of my personal frustrations; the times I got ripped off at the market, the times I would pick up a child and their hands would immediately go to my pockets, all the times the local people would criticize and attack me for being an American.  It’s not their actions that I remember, it’s my reaction. Though I gave it my all, though I poured my heart out to the people there, I know that if I could do some things over, I would.

I wrote BUWEA a long letter last week, telling everyone that I missed and loved them and that when I was there I often felt like I had 5 mothers, all of the BUWEA board members. I received a response from them the other day, in Swahili. It said, “How are you? We are all thinking of and remember you. You are welcome to visit us again.” So I keep writing even though my heart wants to call them, if it wasn’t for the 10 hour time difference. I have a plan to continue working both with WGC and IWM. I want to help in recruiting a volunteer for BUWEA. They deserve it. It was them who took care of me, who taught me the language, who guided me. I want to meet with the new missionaries, encourage them, help them understand the process, and in some ways tell them what not to do. I want to continue supporting WGC, both in grant writing for them and in helping with the annual Basket Sale and other fundraisers. My heart doesn’t want to let go. I am telling myself that that’s ok- for now.  In the words of a soft rock band Coldplay, “Nobody said it was easy; no one ever said that it would be so hard. Oh, take me back to the start.” In other ways, I am proud of myself. Proud that I was able to be there for 18 months with a job that I loved, working with these ladies that have so much potential. I am happy that I did not deny myself that opportunity or listen to anyone who told me that it would be a waste of time. In the long run, everything has functioned like clockwork. I have lived my life exactly the way I wanted to, and I have no regrets. So I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same after all. All I know is, I’m in a beautiful place, surrounded by welcoming teachers and roommates, and I still feel like the world is at my fingertips. I’m standing on the edge of a new horizon. It’s time to step forward.