a beginning

This is me learning to plant rice in Pangani, Tanzania during my semester abroad. I did not do a good job. My translator, Mzonge, incessantly harrassed me about 'missing a spot' while the farmer who was teaching me laughed at my obviously inappropriate choice of attire. (For the record, I was only expecting to do an interview; the lesson in agriculture was an added bonus that I did not factor into my outfit choice.)

This was not the only thing I did less-than-perfectly while I was in Tanzania. I spilled wine on myself while trying to ask a bartender if I should tip her. I spent too much money on clothes because of my lackluster bargaining. I went to a wedding and had to be smuggled food halfway through because dinner was only set to happen at 1 am and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I insulted a new friend by not texting back promptly enough. I stumbled over my words when my interviewee asked me why I wasn't devoting my resources to building a hospital in their village. I poured my seventh cup of goat's milk tea out while no one was looking when I was living with the Masaai. I constantly tripped over my own privilege and ran into walls and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. No matter how much I think I will be the most patient, competent version of myself when I'm travelling, it never really pans out that way. Somehow, leaving the country doesn't seem to bring me any closer to superhuman perfection. Wherever I go, there I am, failings and all.

Although I am not great at a lot of things, I am pretty good at doing them anyway. It sometimes takes a day (or three) of moping or a reassuring phone call, but I always seem to keep going. I can proudly say that I have a 100% success of rate of continuing to exist after I mess up. So, here's to a year of existing imperfectly, doing things I'm bad at, and figuring it out one blunder at a time. The best things are accidents, anyway.