Through the dust of Africa

The plane ride is longer than one body can take.  The hut has no hot water.  Spiders and biting ants share the bed. You must stay on the path at night and watch closely for “the snake”.  Every piece of clothing, including what is packed away, is covered in red dust.  You find that breathing the dust will send your sinuses into a tail spin.  The afternoon sun along with the dust will dehydrate you very quickly.  And bottled water is always room temp because there is no ice. A cold drink is a 45 minute drive into Lusaka or across the road in the shanty town where you dare not tread alone as it is nicknamed Sodom & Gomorrah.  So where is the joy in this place called Africa?

It is in the people.       

It is in the smiles of every good morning with a hand over their heart or a firm slap of a hand shake.

It is in the laugh as they try to teach me the language.

It is in the quiet pride they show for their jobs.

It is in the humility of their eyes while showing me the dress they made to sell.

It is in the abandoned wildness of their dance.

It is in the complete fullness of their soul while singing.

It is in the wonderment of each child wanting to see their picture.

It is in the curiosity and innocence of learning the Bible.

It is all that we have forgotten.

May I never shake the dust from my sandals of this place called AFRICA.