Africa is all around me.
I wear it, I smell it, I talk about it and I dream about it, every day.
I have been trying to keep it close; trying to keep the emotions it aroused fresh, and the feelings I felt, within me at all times.
I feel guilty when I go for a couple hours and forget; forget the pain it caused me to leave my children and the unmistakable grief I had to overcome adjusting back to the “modern world”.
I finally feel like I am back to being myself. Although I cannot really say that my current self is the same as the self I was before stepping foot for the first time on that red dirt, breathing in that burnt air.
I have not been saying much because for the past couple of months I have been at an emotional standstill. Buried within a mixture of gratefulness, anxiety and borderline desperation to make changes in my own life that will reflect the new self I have become.
Typical of my old self, I came home and have a to-do list down to the ground with ideas and programs and initiatives and personal goals and objectives and plans and so much more I can hardly think straight through it. All I continue to see are the pictures I brought home with me. All I hear is the sound of Zuma’s voice reminding me that I was brought to him from God, brought to Tanzania for a purpose and that by being his friend, I was encouraging him to do more. All I know because of this, is that I need to do even more, give even more and get others to care even more.
I also know I miss it.
I miss learning while I was supposed to be teaching, being flooded with gifts of love when I was the one intended to give. I miss hearing the chorus of “good mornings” and the adorable smiles goodbye. I miss making a difference.
As I move into the next chapter, (or paragraph), of my life, I will continue to wear my beaded bracelets and handmade scarves, stare at photos and re-watch the few videos I took… I will continue to keep Africa within me.
