a do over.

I am starting over.

Doing it a g a i n.

Albeit differently— my own way.

Trying to get the words out when the shadow of overthinking tries to dim my light.

Last Monday, I was hit by a drunk driver. And not an i’ll have a glass or two kind of drunk. He was full on incoherent. I was hit on the driver’s side heading home. He sped off after the act. I was shaken and understandably irate. My gully was ignited.

I followed him.

After what felt like a high speed chase, his car slowed down. As I approached his vehicle, I noticed that the car was at a complete hault. His car wouldn’t start.

Isn’t karma funny that way?

When I confronted him with my ¹mjomba, he said ²sisi ni binamu; nisamehe tu. He then proceeded to pull out a religious book and suggested we purchase it for 1,000 Tanzanian Shillings. He said that he thought it would help me. I grimaced. And then began to chuckle ³kidogo because I finally realized that I am the main character in a strange farce; a type of comedy known for absurd situations and characters.

Because… how else could someone have so much audacity after almost taking my life? Accordingly, I decided to treat him and the simulation as such. I took pictures of him posing with the book [see below] and even recorded him giving a play-by-play of what had happened was..

I’ve succumbed to the ridiculosity [it’s a word, I googled it] of the scenarios that confront me here and resolve that this country is undoubtedly a spiritual testing ground.

A place for me to reassess my beliefs, my orientation to how I show up in the world, and to unlearn the ⁴tabias that are inadvertently holding me back.
Every day; Tanzania reminds me that I am small. And not always in a shaming way [though there is that too]. It reminds me that I am one seed in a cluster of many. Who is sprouting alongside and not in isolation.

Henceforth, the r e b i r t h of this substack portal.

Welcome to Letters from the +255 ; a space where I share my musings of life in the tropics [as my babu phrases it]. For those of you new to the blog; in 2022, I quit my job and relocated to my birth country; Tanzania. 

It

has

been

a

w h i r l w i n d.

Some days,

I am left in awe of the overwhelming ⁵upendo that meets me when I least expect it. Other times, I wonder if I’ve been teleported to the twilight zone without my consent.

Irrespective of the unique challenges I have faced here; it has been one of the most rewarding decisions I have ever made; and one of the b r a v e s t things I have ever done. [I bolded it so that it would make a visual imprint in my memory- because sometimes I be forgetting my own power].

This space is an ode to my younger self. The self that used to pontificate about this mysterious place called ‘Tanzania’. A country I was born in and hardly knew know. It is an offering to kids like me who grew up in the liminal space and aren’t always sure where they belong. The living hyphens.

Monday’s car accident was my fourth chance. Perhaps I’ll circle back to those other accidental [pun intended] lessons at a later time. I’m reframing it as an opportunity for a do-over. To dust myself off and try again [» cue Aaliyah’s wisdom #rip]. To really t a p in and share my tidbits of home with those who also wonder and pontificate like I did do.

Allow me to reintroduce myself:

My name is N e n e l w a; a.k.a. ⁶Malkia.

• I’m an anthropologist.

• A unprompted notetaker who doesn’t leave home without her pen + pad.

• A dot c o n n e c tor.

• A Tanzanian with ⁷mgeni tendencies.

This allows me to see things that others don’t; which has become my inadvertent superpower.

So, ⁸karibu to my slice of paradise where I will share, reflect, analyze and attempt to make sense of this colorful, whimsical, complicated place I call home.

Forever,

⁹binti wa udongo 🌱

1. uncle

2. we are cousins/relatives; just forgive me

3. a little bit

4. behavior [it doesn’t have an s. I remix Kiswahili sometimes]

5. love

6. Queen

7. guest/foreigner

8. welcome

9. daughter of the soil