So I arrived.
the burnt air smells the same, the sounds of swahili and massai chants are the same, but somethng is different.
maybe it is because i've never traveled to do the same experience twice, but everything that shook me and awed me last year, feels somehow commonplace.
the stories of abused wives, impoverished children and watching the families inside their wooden and tin huts doesn't evoke much inside of me.
have i become immune to extreme poverty?
maybe it has something to do with the fact that ever since i left last year, i've been writing grant proposals, application essays and website copy that reflect the emotions i had felt, that i literally have become emotionless.
of course i was thrilled today to see zuma and my beloved children again. hearing their songs of mango trees made me happy and watching them recite their english words made me feel proud to have made some sort of impact on their lives. but as i walked through the slums, i felt no saddness, no heartbreak.
i still have weeks to come and learn more, see more and feel more, so maybe i will.
while i am happy to be back at cheti school, surrounded by the faces i have been thinking about for a year, i have a feeling this trip will be something different.
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