I haven’t blogged in a long time. But I have been journaling and now that I am back I feel like I can finally put them on the internet. Here it goes…
From June 14th:
Those who know me well, probably won’t believe that I am at a loss for words. And have been for a few days. So like the advertisements, signs and tattered shirts that speak for the wordless people here, I would like to try to speak through the words of others that made me think
Gaby said, “I don’t know what I am going to say when people ask, ‘how was Africa?’ There are no words.”
I replied to Gaby, “or too many.” Maybe I am speechless because I have too many words.
Carol said, “Africa has a way of lifting you up and slamming you back down.”
And truly, there are some hours that I have had in Africa that are the happiest of my life. But then there is always something that slams me back into my reality. For example, we went to play soccer with some village kids recently. The kids lived in huts, had bare feet and wore ripped shirts (if any at all). I was so happy though. For a while I felt like I was in a movie or maybe a storybook or something. I was lost in the game. But then I noticed that the kid I was taking the picture of with the sling shot was wearing a Jonas Brothers T-shirt. It was like getting punched in the stomach. I was dizzy. Breathing was hard. I made a forced connection to the world that I live in. The are too many words.
Another example came from our trip to Abia. Which O’Keefe told us was, “the poorest of the poor.” I was laughing and happy on the bus after a long day of music and singing when I saw him out of the window. He was a four year old boy wearing a Packers jersey. Another connection and another punch in the stomach. There are too many words.
Even in writing this I think my words are insufficient. But I know some people who are worried about me because I have not been blogging. “I am fine.” Just learning.