I don’t blog, or generally share my thoughts this openly, but I’m willing to try. I have been in Mwanza for 2 weeks now. Crazy, isn’t it? Just a few months ago, I never thought that I would be spending my summer in Tanzania. It has been 8 long years since I last visited the amazingly, beautiful country. My mother grew up in Tanzania, and I have had the pleasure of visiting my grandmother, who lived in Arusha, on two separate occasions. However, this trip with Western Heads East (WHE) is very different.
The other WHE interns don’t speak Swahili. It is a language that I have grown up thanks to my mother. My Swahili is rusty though. Like many children with immigrant parents who speak another language, my mother would always speak to me in Swahili and I’d reply in English. To my mother’s joy, I would be able to practice the language during my internship. This has proved to be a little difficult because I don’t think in Swahili first, but I am working on it. So far, I have spoken Swahili everyday, mostly out of necessity really, but it is great practice.