An Abrupt Interruption

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1: 9

Well here we are, in a place I don’t think any of us wanted to believe we would be.

Two weeks ago I woke up to an email from the ELCA stating that all US citizens serving abroad were requested to return home immediately.  I almost ignored the email at first.  I had received multiple emails from the ELCA in the weeks leading up to this, letting us know the status of the virus and what precautions they were taking.  They requested our contingency plans in the event of an emergency in our place of service.  But being in Bukoba, so far removed from the situation back home, or even any situations that may have been occurring in other parts of Tanzania, I naively felt relatively secure that I would not be affected by the turmoil.  But then I read the email.  My mind went numb as my eyes glazed over the words again.  Return home.  Immediately.  But I had just arrived.  I was finally settled.  I was just starting to really know the kids and feel involved in the community.  And Joseph.  We had just been reunited after nearly two months apart and now this? And for how long? When is this going to blow over? When will I be able to return? 

The morning bell rang, the bus arrived, students ran to the dining hall for morning devotions, and I just sat, frozen on my bed, tears streaming down my face.  I called Joseph to tell him, but I couldn’t get the words out.  The head teacher, wondering why I hadn’t been at morning service, came by my house and had no words when I told him the news.  I spoke with my point person in Tanzania later in the morning who told me that he would be requesting to stay in Tanzania with his family.  One of his three children didn’t have a US visa and he was hoping the ELCA would be understanding of his need to keep his family together.  He asked me what my plans were and I told him that I felt like I needed to do what the ELCA was asking me to do.  He agreed that I should follow their advice.  Joseph and I spent much of the day just sitting in silence, tears coming in waves, trying to wrap our minds around what this could mean. Several hours and many emails later, a travel agent had booked me a flight leaving Friday morning, just three days away, arriving in Houston on Saturday evening.  Still feeling numb and unable to process what was happening, I tried to relay the news to my students and fellow teachers.  All were saddened and gave words of hope and encouragement that I would return to them soon.    

At five o’clock the seventh grade girls assembled at my house for our Tuesday/Thursday running club with their dorm mom, my good friend, Madam Peace.  As I put on my running shoes to meet them, Joseph showed me a video from the Prime Minister announcing that upon identifying one patient who tested positive for the virus, all Tanzanian schools were ordered to close immediately.  I went out to tell the girls the news and the group had mixed emotions.  Some were excited to be going home and getting a break from school, others began to cry, not wanting to leave their friends or for me to go.  Madam Peace just shook her head.  “This is a very sad day” she said as we began to run.  It was the last thing I wanted to do, but as we ran together and shared both our frustrations and encouraging words, I felt my spirit lifting ever so slightly.  When we were almost back to the school Madam Peace said to me, “I didn’t want to run today.  I felt so sad.  But now I feel somehow lighter.  Like things are going to be ok.”  I nodded and smiled.  

The students were up and packed early the next morning.  They lined the covered walkways surrounding the driveway trying to stay out of the rain as they waited eagerly for their parents to arrive.  The teachers came to do final preparations and give students their notebooks for at home study.  By noon all of the students had been picked up and the campus was somber and quiet.  

I spent my last days in Bukoba packing and preparing the house to be away.  Ma Esther would continue to come three days a week and Joseph would be there every day taking care of the animals.  I talked for a long time with our head teacher Kalokola about the school and about ways that I can help, even from afar.  I snuggled with my kittens and played with Daisy.  Joseph and I cooked our favorite meals and danced to our favorite songs.  On my last evening, after procuring a mask at one of the local pharmacies, we went to our favorite spot on the beach.  We had the place practically to ourselves and we sat enjoying the waves and the sand between our toes.  

Arriving at the Bukoba airport Friday morning, I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  I had my mask in my bag along with hand sanitizer and wipes.  Before even entering the airport two officers instructed me to wash my hands and my temperature was taken.  All personnel wore masks and gloves, but most of the travelers did not.  I flew from Bukoba to Mwanza and then to Dar es Salaam where I waited several hours for my next flight.  The airport was full of what looked like college spring breakers from the UK who had just climbed Kilimanjaro as well as more than one hundred Peace Corps volunteers who were being sent home early.  More hand washing and temperature checks before boarding the plane to Dubai.  I wore my mask throughout the flight and was extra careful to wipe down all the surfaces, as was the woman sitting next to me.  When we arrived we were shuffled through security.  No temperature checks this time.  I was able to find a shower where I cleaned up before stretching my legs and getting a snack.  The security process to board the plane to JFK was extensive.  We passed through a thermal imaging scan before our passports were checked and we were questioned about whether or not we had travelled through China before arriving in Dubai.  We went down an escalator into a holding area where our temperature was checked again, and our carryon bags were searched.  The crowd of more than five hundred passengers travelling to JFK grew impatient as we waited in what seemed like nonmoving lines.  Some wore masks and kept to themselves.  Others commiserated at how ridiculous all of this was.  One girl questioned what customs would be like once we got to New York.  “I bet it’s gonna take hours” another girl replied.  I tried to stay calm, but as I looked around at all the small children being held by their parents or pushed in strollers, I couldn’t help wishing I were going through this as they were, oblivious to the fear and risk, with a parent who could take care of everything while I just held tight to their hand.

When we began our descent into New York, the flight attendants handed out health forms, asking questions about where we had been and if we had been exposed to any one exhibiting symptoms of the virus.  I tucked my form into my passport with my boarding pass, but upon going through customs, no one asked for my form.  My temperature was not taken.  No officers in masks and gloves telling me to wash my hands.  Just the basic, “Where are you coming from?” and “Welcome home”.  All passengers had to reclaim their luggage before proceeding to their next flight.  I waited near the crowded luggage carousel as people frantically tried to grab their luggage.  Hundreds of bags came down the ramp before I finally spotted mine.  As I walked with my luggage to the next terminal, I noticed how eerily empty the airport was.  The only people I encountered were those who had been on my previous flight.  Half of the shops and restaurants were closed, their security bars locked tight.  My flight to Houston had only twenty passengers.  After 42 hours of travel, finally arriving and being reunited with my family was such a relief.  

Being home again after only being gone just over a month has been strange, especially under these conditions.  I’ve only left the house to go to drive through communion and have only been in contact with my immediate family members.  The introvert in me hasn’t minded being at home yet.  I’ve tried to keep myself busy by helping out with projects around the house and staying in contact with my friends.  Joseph and I are back in our long-distance routine of FaceTime calls and are exchanging lots of photos and videos of the pets.  Our June wedding has been postponed.  We are thinking maybe November, but only time will tell.  Schools in Tanzania are still closed as the number of confirmed cases has grown to thirteen, one of which is in the Bukoba region of Kagera.  Again, only time will tell if schools will remain closed longer than the original 30-day mandate.  I still have no idea when I will be able to return to Tanzania.  I assume the ELCA, just like everyone else, is taking this one day at a time.    

I know that I don’t have to tell you this, but just in case you needed a reminder today- God is working through this.  We are all in such a strange holding pattern, trying to make the best of it and keep as much of a sense of normalcy as we can, but amidst this chaos God is showing us that He is still good.  Our social media platforms are filled with positive stories and photos and videos showing the good that has come from such devastation and loss of control.  People are coming together to support each other from afar, and we are learning that we cannot get through this alone.  It is going to take all of us working together from our little corners of quarantine to beat this.  And when we do, imagine how strong our communities will be.  I know that it’s difficult at times like these, but continue to have faith.  I know that it can be overwhelming when it seems that so many are hurting, but continue to pray for one another and for our world.  And I know it seems hard when we are isolated and when our friends and family seem so far away, but continue to show love.  We need love now more than ever.  

Mungu akubariki,
Allee