May it be so.

I was awakened by the early morning crow of roosters just outside my window; heartless creatures with no deference to the fact that I hadn’t slept much in the two days of travel across nine time zones and that their early morning trumpeting anthem to the rising of the sun was an unwelcome intrusion in my deep, dreamless sleep. But just as the sun rises every day so do the rooster calls, and with that I slowly entered in to my first day of living back in West Africa. 

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A few hours later, I’ve enjoyed a fully-caffeinated cup of coffee, a rare treat that I’m grateful to no longer be desperate for but enjoy fully on days like today. I’ve managed a shower, throwing my hair into the ponytail that is the norm until the next time I set foot in a less tropical climate and can control the frizzy mess. For the same reason I wear almost no makeup, the heat and humidity melting it off my face in a matter of minutes.  My skin is always happy in this place.  

I’m wearing a light dress and have slipped my still travel-swollen feet into flipflops for the first part of the day. Hopefully the swelling will continue to go down in the hours before I need to wear real shoes to a meeting with a local partner later this afternoon.  I’m so looking forward to having clothes made here; the bright African fabrics beckon, custom-made local dresses garner instant respect among the locals.  I still grieve a little bit when I think of the bag full of beautiful, perfectly tailored African clothing that was lost by Air France last summer.  I must begin replacing them soon.  

I hear the pitter-patter of a few drops of rain on the tin roof above me and I wonder if we’re in for a sprinkling or a deluge. We’re in that weird, unpredictable space between dry and rainy seasons; it doesn’t rain all day every day as it will starting in a few weeks, with roads flooding and rivers flowing fiercely through whatever happens to fall in the torrent’s path.  The rain can be fierce in the tropics, and I feel the familiar pang of injustice, as other countries and people suffer in the grip of drought while we have more water than we know what to do with here. 

In a few minutes I’ll escape the cool of my air-conditioned bedroom and face my first staff meeting, where I’ll be introduced as the new boss.  I’m a little nervous but mostly excited; there’s something magical somehow about being back on the African continent, where I feel a different kind of alive, like a piece of me that I left behind slides silently back into place and I am whole again.  

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The customs and immigration process in this part of the world is always a frustration; there’s generally not much logic or efficiency in the process, and it’s as if the airport staff is always surprised by this giant plane landing and unloading hundreds of weary passengers.  But it seems the universe knew I needed a jolt of encouragement, and the process of arrival last night was the easiest and most straightforward I’ve ever experienced in the countless times I’ve gone through it.  I’m praying it’s an indication of what is to come for me in this foreign land; a smooth, easy welcome.  May it be so. 

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It was a deluge, by the way. The rain pounded the roof so loudly we had to delay our first meeting as it was impossible to hear what anyone was saying.   In the meantime we found out about a meeting we should have been a part of so rearranged the rest of the day to accommodate; this is the norm here and I’m reminded once again to release my type-A-American grip on time and planning and punctuality. 

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Lunch consisted of a peanut butter sandwich and a granola bar, both American goodies brought over in one of the six bags that contain everything important in my life.  I said once, and I’ll say it again, with enough peanut butter I really do think I can make a difference in the world.  Also in those bags you’ll find a large stash of protein powder, probiotics, mechanical pencils and post-it notes; a lovely alliterative combination of treats that together make me feel almost invincible.   Almost.  

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In an afternoon full of meetings I’m reminded a hundred times why I am here.  The topics of discussion range from the seemingly insignificant to the heinous and grievous; I’m realizing again that working in social justice is a whole different animal to working in healthcare.  For the most part, (though certainly not all), the patients in my previous work had horrible things happen to them rather by accident; the tumor just appeared one day and grew, or they were injured somehow in a vehicle accident, or their legs just never were quite straight. But here and now, though, the hurt we are trying to prevent and repair is caused not by fate or circumstance but rather by another human being who has lost any and all belief in the value of a human life. We can’t just take the tumor away and give them a new lease on life.  It’s so complicated and heart wrenching and I’m so honored I get to be a part of the solution… at least, I hope I get to.  Please, may it be so. 

~~

It’s after 9pm and we’ve just gotten home; I was greeted by the sweet and playful ‘guard dog’ whose name is nofriend or onefriend or just friend, depending on who you ask. I’m pleased with myself for making it through a long afternoon of meetings without nodding off; jet-lag going east is always worse for me than going west. It was a long day but a full day, my body is weary but my heart is full. I’ve met some great people, I’m hopeful with possibility of making a difference here, I’m excited about the rest of the week and I know this whole thing, this crazy thing, is right.  It will not be easy, but most things in life worth doing aren’t.   

So as I brush my teeth and find my earplugs and crawl under my mosquito-net fortress/canopy bed, I’m filled with nothing but gratitude. I’m so thankful I get to do this, I get to be a part of making the world a little bit better for these kids, to get to put one foot in front of the other here on the far side of the sea, to bring light and speak joy and hope and life to the full. May it be so. 

I bless the rains down in Africa.  Thanks Toto.