Spending over two years at Bwiru Girls School in Tanzania with TEA in the early 60's was both exciting and sobering for me.  Bwiru is just outside Mwanza on the shores of Lake Victoria; it was a lazy, quiet  town (with one round-about), but it had many schools and young teachers and professionals from around the world.  We shared American holidays like Thanksgiving, were asked to a Guy Fawkes Bonfire by the British, attended a henna ceremony for one of the African teachers who was to be married. We took school breaks to travel as far as Victoria Falls one time - and weekends off to visit the nearby Serengeti.    

And there was a palpable hope and lots of energy for this soon to be free country.  Everyone felt it. Julius Nyerere (a hero who visited our school more than once) was to be President, and the girls at the school were aware of their privilege and most of them desperately wanted to learn.    It was a 22 year old's dream place to be if you wanted to experience new things.  And it changed and vastly expanded my world view.  

It was also a maturing time in my life.  We were given not only the responsibility of teaching, but also monitoring many African girls at a boarding school:  late night walks with the watchman who carried a lantern to make sure all was well in the dormitories; infrequent but necessary trips to the town hospital; being aware of the "uncles" who came to visit a girl; learning how to live in a house that came with a cook and a gardener who needed sugar and payment for their work. The death of a fellow teacher in a car accident on the road to Dar was very painful.  I grew up and had a wonderful time doing it.