The last few hours of our trip is a blur. We were forced to wait as a man from the embassy shook hands with my dad and checked every passport. My most prominent memory is of the increasing pain in my feet; there was nowhere to sit down. We were rushed onto a bus and I leaned my head against the window, and my eyes, blurred with sleep, tried to take in the mix of city lights and dark sky. I wanted to remember it all, every detail, but my brain was too tired. All at once the bus stopped and Dad´s booming yet gentle voice woke everyone up, even if they weren´t asleep. Here we were, at our house. I would have called it a home, but I knew it wouldn´t be long before we moved again. This was my third move overseas, my eighth move in total. It was routine and, at the time, seemed like nothing special.  

Somehow I´d gotten a shower, was tucked into a bed, and started to dream. I was woken up with the pleasant surprise of a bloody nose. For the first thirty seconds after my rude awakening, I couldn´t remember where I was, or how I had gotten there. I looked at the bunk next to me and saw my sisters. What is going on? Then I remembered. The day before I had woken up in Italy and gone to bed in Tanzania.

It was past daybreak, the light filtered softly through the window as if to soften the blow of my strange surroundings. I was in a bedroom that was impersonal and cluttered with a bureau, desk, bedside tables and two bunk beds. I slid off of a top bunk and landed on one of the bedside tables. I jumped off and tried to remember where the bathroom was. Frantically looking around at the many doors surrounding me, I noticed one open door. One hand pinching the bridge of my nose, the other cupped beneath my chin, I ran across the room toward it. It was a bathroom! I leaned over the sink and stopped pinching my nose. Inexperienced with nose bleeds, I let the blood fall into the sink as I tried to rub the blood out of my hands without any soap. Not only was there no soap in the bathroom, there were no tissues, let alone toilet paper. There was, however, an ant. It was orange, rather large, and slightly transparent as it ambled slowly across the sink. Disgusting. As I sat on the closed toilet waiting for the flow to stop my thoughts wondered. Well, isn´t this a great day. I get to live out of a suitcase for the next few weeks, the house is infested with ants, and my pajamas have blood on them. I detest this so much. Keeping my chin up as a precaution, I walked slowly out of the small bathroom and looked around. If I wasn´t so worried that my nose would start bleeding again, I would have whistled. I guess the house isn´t as bad as I thought it would be. 

Dwarfed in the large room, I jotted a few mental notes. The stairs that led down to the ground floor were to my right. Behind me and across the room in front of me were doors that led to what I was assumed were bedrooms. It still isn´t as great as the family room in our last house. The wall to my left was one big window with a glass door that lead out to a porch. I walked over and tried the handle. Fiddlesticks. It was locked.   

A few hours later, Mom, Dad, and all thirteen of my siblings were awake, dressed, and fed. Every inch of the house had been explored by at least four different people. Every inch that is, except for the second-floor patio. By now, I had noticed that there were stairs leading up to a higher mystery. My angry feelings towards the move as a whole had boiled down, but my curiosity now boiled over the top. Because I was sure the surprise that awaited me at the top of the patio staircase would be too great to take in alone, I selected an accomplice: Rebekah. Looking back, there were multiple reasons I chose her out of my vast selection. She was six years old at the time, I was ten - my authority wouldn´t be challenged. She also reminded me of myself in many ways. We were both picky eaters, we both thought Miriam and Anna were annoying, and we both detested getting compared to anything but the best. I opened the window in the room I had woken up in. It was barred.   

I refused to let this crush my spirit. My last forty-eight hours hadn´t been the greatest, but Tanzania was a new experience and I was determined to let my senses drink in every moment of it. I may not have thought much of the place at first, but the staircase - my staircase - made everything special.  I took a step back from the low window and put my hands through. Then came my head, shoulders, and hips. I fit! Amazed and convinced I was part octopus, I turned around and helped Rebekah through. She was much easier, but her limbs were too short to reach the ground mid-squeeze. Brushing grime from our hands and knees, we stood and looked around. In front of use was the spiraled staircase that led upwards. To our left, there were chairs, a couch, and a table. I walked to the bottom of the stairs. We were barefoot, and it was covered in dust. Wow, this is more spectacular and magical than that blue fairy book. I slowly climbed the first few stairs and turned to see my footprints trailing after me. One step at a time I climbed the small staircase.   

My breath was stolen away by the gentle breeze. My eyes were hypnotized by the vast glinting pool of water that was the Indian Ocean. My ears were attacked with unfamiliar bird calls, Swahili phrases, and the subdued roar of the ocean. My nose was filled with the scent of hibiscus and other exotic flowers. It was too much for my ten-year-old self to take in. The beauty of this Tanzania, the Tanzania laid out in front of my eyes, had no comparison in my heart.  

The place at the top of the mysterious staircase would come to be known as "the eagle´s nest". Dad didn´t unlock the patio door for days. Despite the fact that it was no longer solely mine, I would sit in the eagle´s nest for hours simply observing and absorbing Tanzania. My attempt to commit every aspect of Tanzania to memory proved a success. I would know. Because I am not there anymore.   

My four-month-long affair with Tanzania was cut off abruptly. I was lying on my bedroom carpet reading an assigned book that just happened to be one of the most boring books ever written when I heard a thump through the wall. Every bedroom had a bathroom connected, except for mine. I ran out of my room and cautiously walked into my parent´s room. "Mom? Mom are you okay?" My voice cracked as I called through the closed bathroom door. "Get Dad!" Mom sounded like she was crying, which made me want to cry, but instead I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me down the stairs and cried out. "Dad? Dad!" Looking at me oddly, Benjamin said, "He´s in the dining room..." My heart was pounding louder than the bass drum. "Dad!" Panic came in a flash over his face. "What is it?" I couldn´t contain myself. "It´s Mom! I was in my room and I heard a thud and she was in the bathroom and she told me to get you!" Dad moved his rather large body faster than I had ever seen before. I stood unmoving as I watched him take the stairs three at a time. By now my siblings were congregating around me. "What happened?" "Why is Dad running upstairs?" "Where´s Mom?" "Did she blackout again?" Their words echoed in my head until I realized they were all looking to me for answers. "I think Mom blacked out and got hurt when she fell." The sound of my words jolted my mind out of its unspoken worries. "What do we do?" James´ question echoed off the dining room walls. 

Next thing I knew Mom was being medevaced to South Africa and Elizabeth, the oldest child at home, was in charge. Because we had Ruben, our cook, and Sampson, our housekeeper, Mom and Dad´s departure wasn´t too physically challenging. The house and my life seemed empty without Mom. Normally Dad would go to work every day and Mom would stay with the kids in the house or at the beach with us. Dad had been on short business trips and one five-month deployment before he and Mom went to South Africa. Yes, I missed Dad, but I yearned for Mom. 

One night Elizabeth tried to lighten our dreary moods by having us play outside. It was a cool, clear night and the plants were greener now than when they had been frying in the sun. One way or another, some people ended up on top of part of the roof and everyone was acting crazy. Everyone, that is, except Benjamin. Second eldest at home, Benjamin came outside and was appalled. Then furious. "Why are you up there?" He demanded. Elizabeth told him to relax a little and, horror of all horrors, he slapped her across the face. She screamed and they started to physically fight and yell. The shock of the slap, the roar of their yells, and the whimpers from the youngest were too much for me.  

I ran behind the six-foot generator and held my hands over my ears. I stayed there like that for a while. There were hardly any mosquitoes. My bare toes dug into the carpet of green grass. I turned my head toward the sky and gazed at the stars. Why? What´s going to happen? I rocked myself back and forth until the whispers that slipped through my fingers were cut off by the back door. I stood and walked around the yard searching for a source of comfort. I wandered over to our swing set and sat down, my back to the house. The moon was big and bright, a warm breeze ruffled my hair, and the sounds of insects lulled my mind into a dreamy state. I hope we don´t have to move... Little did I know how much the world would oppose my small hope.  

I didn´t even get the chance to say a proper goodbye. Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours was all the embassy gave us. They were practically kicking Mom out of the country because her medical condition was considered a "distraction" to their work. It was emotional for everyone. The thought that Mom had almost died a few weeks earlier, that we now had to pack everything back up - starting with the box that had been unpacked last just a few days before, and the fact that it was extremely unlikely we would never return to Tanzania.

My beautiful Tanzania, I write to you now. Though temporary bars separate me from your welcome embrace, your clear water still cools my skin, your flowers´ sweet scents still fills my nose, and your ocean sunset still bedazzles my eyes every time I close them. One day, I will return. I will return and give back to the country that became my home when I had none.