choices

People sometimes ask me: how did you end up in Tanzania?  The extended version usually includes ‘I’m not really sure why’ and ‘I just had a feeling’.  But by any definition, I chose it.  This reality often moves to the forefront of my mind when I am feeling overwhelmed or frustrated, which ebbs and flows in a manner similar to the tides here (i.e. dramatically).  

A recent encounter brought home to me something more significant: despite my untidy explanations, every single day I choose to be here.  Last week, planning on a weekend at the beach with some of my girlfriends, I spent the second day of Eid running errands.  In one of the shops, I ended up in a long conversation with an employee.  She explained to me that she had come to Dar in order to avoid an arranged marriage.  Why Tanzania? Because it was one of the first places to grant her a visa.  Why Dar? Because she was able to secure work and a corresponding airfare from her home country.  The catch? A long-term contract doing work that she is over-qualified for.  

The next time I was about to utter a complaint, it caught in my throat.  I choose to be here. Granted, clearly she also made an active choice to be here.  But it underscores the layers of privilege that inform volition.  She chose between an unacceptable position and tolerable one.  I have been lucky enough that most of my life I have been able to choose between a good position and an even better one.  

So today, I’ll choose to be thankful for that.