November 21, 2010
The missionaries, the volunteers, thrill-seekers, safari-goers, natives and tourists.
The members of NGO's, diplomats, lawyers, do-gooders, messer-uppers.
Redemptors. Teachers. Growers. Seekers.
Deliverers.
Servants.
The flight home is remarkably different from the flight here. The flight to Africa brimmed with excitement, networking, and conversation. People sharing agendas, intentions, causes. Now, a startling number of the same individuals occupy this fuselage for the journey back home. And are markedly more quiet. Reflective, I suspect. Maybe a bit exhausted, too.
Perhaps even surprised by the luxuries one ends up missing on a trip to the third world. You know, luxuries like tap water to brush your teeth. A hot shower.
It's the simple things you end up missing. But somehow it pales next to the important stuff, anyway. The people. The contact. The exchanges. The smiles and tight squeezes and tears you shared with 15-year-old girls who have been ravaged and abused and then pretty much discarded by their homes and tribes and societies. And then given a second chance. To live, to play, to thrive, to love. To be loved - and to know it.
It's like finding tomato plants growing on the moon.
(There's only one explanation for that.)
Now on this plane.
All of us clutch our things.
Ever-so-tightly and quietly we grip these souvenirs.
Tangible evidence of our experiences here. In Uganda.
Experiences that, for many of us, will leave us changed.
Certainly."
1 comment:
Beautiful explanation of all the emotions you and others experienced. I am sure you made a difference to many people when you were there working. Hope you someday write a book. Thanks for sharing.
Post a Comment