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Wanderlust in the dictionary is defined as: “a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about”. Yet, neither wander nor lust drove me to Mbamba, Tanzania in the year of 2019. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There was a complete drive inside of me, one could say an internal tug or whatever other pretty words for inexorable force that coerced me to volunteer with Raleigh ICS that year. As expected, this was no ordinary trip. Oh no, definitely not, because WE, were volunteers, that’s right, you heard VOLUNTEERS. You know, the “good people” because “I volunteered in Africa for three months helping little black babies and what did you do Scott? Sit on your arse and play video games? Yeah, that’s what I thought”. Being thrown into the middle of butt fuck nowhere rural Tanzania is exactly what you would expect it to be…Quaint. When I first arrived, it felt like the only thing I had “leapt” into was a gigantic black hole with no way out, because God forbid the local market would actually sell a ladder (among anything else westernised and quote on quote “sane”). I was brought there to teach business to local entrepreneurs, and facilitate them in acquiring government loans and grant schemes. However, believe me when I tell you, the only prior business experience I had, was how to stay out of someone else’s. This was challenge one. Challenge two was a little bit more complicated. You see. I’m in Tanzania, teaching business, to Tanzanians, who don’t speak English, and I (like the uneducated un-civilised swine that I am), do not speak a lick of Swahili. Worry not, Raleigh had this all covered. We were in a mixed group of 6 UK volunteers and 6 Tanzanian volunteers. The lessons looked more like an elongated version of charades, that should have ended 5 hours ago, but Grandma Betty just wanted that one more glass, *cough*, I mean bottle of prosecco. If the villagers managed to learn anything during that time, it was probably sure as shit how NOT to play charades. As much as I'm moaning now, not all of my time in Mbamba was bad. In fact, it was quite the opposite, thanks to my host family. My host family was the most loving, caring wonderful group of humans i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Also, you can bet your ass my host sister Amina made the best rice and beans the village has ever seen. Imagine a 5 star restaurant. Except its outside, and there’s no chairs, and there’s no table, and there’s no cutlery... So imagine just that. The next interesting feature was the toilet. Imagine a hut, with a hole in the ground, and the hut is made of mud and hay. Hay day say the many, pay day… said no one at all. At night the toilet became a very interesting venture, if you like zoos that is. But this zoo only exhibited spiders as big as your face, with a myriad of different cockroaches, and the occasional chicken. There are many different things I would like to thank my host family for. Them welcoming me into their home with open arms, accepting me like I was one on their own, trying their best to communicate with me despite the language barrier. However, I will not thank them for the bed bugs. 8 weeks of them to be exact. Overall, my time in Tanzania was second to none. I got to see a lot, grow a lot, learn a lot, itch a lot…(fucking bed bugs). I learnt what it meant to contribute to something bigger than myself and the joys that success could bring. Not just for myself, but also for those around me. So this is the end of a leap into the unknown. Little did I know when I first started, that this small village called Mbamba, in rural Tanzania, would quickly become my second home. For that, I would like to say: Asante Sana. (Thank you very much).