africa

I have received a lot of letters and emails since I started this blog. Most have to do with, of course, Africa. What has struck me is this: people who have been there have said that it got hold of them and has never really let go.

I have been treated to reminisces of journeys there, of childhoods spent there, of people met there, and of photos and journals that have been made there. Without fail, those who have been to Africa have been changed somehow by the experience and long to return.

In my correspondence with fellow workshop students, the common thread that seems to bind us now is that we want to go back.

What is it about Africa that draws us in and keeps us there? Why, in the middle of lunch at Panera’s with Eddie the other day did I start crying as I was drawing comparisons between life here in the US and life as it appeared to me there in my three short weeks in Uganda? Why do I still think about the people I met and the places I saw almost constantly? The songs, the faces, the sounds of the city streets, the quiet of the village, the rich colors, the cool breezes, the smiles flashed by new friends, the rain on my face, the grit on my skin, the children’s hands in mine, the haunting skies, the red, red earth. I don’t know. The images and the feelings just don’t seem to fade.

In one letter I’ve read and re-read, Bono was quoted: “For Africa, it is going to take all of us.”

I’m not sure what he meant. But I can’t seem to stop turning his words around in my head.