So…something I haven’t talked about much is the fact that I have been sick since I arrived in Tanzania. Well almost. Technically it started a week after I arrived. But for the better part of two and a half months I have been ill, with short bursts of 3-4 days where I would get sort of better and then relapse. Before you come on a trip like this you are pumped full of so many immunizations, prescribed malaria pills, given your “just in case” bottle of Cipro, and sign up for extra international health insurance. You go through the motions and assume that, despite all of the risks, at most you’ll get a little case of Montezuma’s Revenge, pop some Pepto, and continue on. You buy the policy and roll your eyes because you are sure that you just sent money out the door, never to be seen again.

So when I first got sick of course I thought, “Bad food or water.” No biggie. Day in bed resting, drink lots of water, back in lessons tomorrow. Except that 24 hours later I was moaning in a fetal position in bed and waiting for the alien to burst from my abdomen. The school teachers made me go to the local clinic to get tested for parasites and bacteria. A few hours later, I was finally diagnosed with a bacterial infection and prescribed antibiotics and a shot of painkillers in the arse. Fun fact: when you are a super-pale girl, mosquito bites tend to stand out as bright red beacons on your skin. And when you’re living in Tanzania, you tend to get mosquito bites everywhere. You know how when you go to the doctor or nurse in the States and they say, “Nothing you can say will shock us. We’ve seen and heard it all”? Well that viewpoint hadn’t reached the particular clinic I was at. Instead, I got to feel the special type of humiliation that comes with pulling down your skirt for a shot and having the nurse burst out laughing at the bright red spots covering your tush. And then, still laughing, going to get a fellow nurse to come in and point and giggle with her. It was an experience I will long treasure.

So antibiotics done, feeling better, I was ready to take on the task of learning Swahili anew. For nearly a week I improved. And then some version of the same thing happened again. And again. And again. It culminated in a one week period during which I not only had pain from this, but also a sinus infection and malaria at the same time. I finally went to the capital to one of the better clinics in the country. I had lost ten pounds and the doctor was concerned enough about my CT scan to recommend I return to the States for diagnostic testing. We decided to try one last ditch effort and she put me on anti-inflammatories to see if we could reduce the worst of the pain. But two weeks later I had not improved as much as hoped.

So I’m heading home next week. Barring a serious diagnosis, it will only be for a month or so. Needless to say, I didn’t expect this and am not thrilled about having to step away from my studies. But I am also exhausted. I don’t feel like I’m getting any better and at the very least, I need some time to rest. So for now, it’s the best decision and I’m trying to look on the bright side…like getting to enjoy this sunset from the rooftop patio of my hostel in Dar.