Inner Conflict...

Written at Sarova Mara Safari Camp, 2 August

torn apart...
Torn apart...
emotionally shredded...
mentally at odds with myself...
spiritually disconcerted...

Here I sit, surrounded by
   luxurious comfort,
   every need met by
   the hard-working hands of others...
             and I am enjoying it!

Oh, yes, I enjoy the comfortable
bed and well-appointed bath,
enjoy the game rides and the gentle
African voices asking again & again
about my needs, my comfort.
But during a lunch I could barely eat,
I pictured all of my dear friends-
in Kibera, Mathare, Kigali-
   struggling each day to put simple food
   on their tables
   walking bcause they have nothing to
   drive
   earning each month far less than
   one night's lodging at this place...
How their eyes would widen at
the excesses found here, at the things
we guests take for granted, as our right,
perhaps...after all, we paid for them, didn't we?

So- how do I reconcile the two?
      How make sense of the disparate worlds
         I populate with my small presence?
      How do I live a life of plenty when faced
         with so much lack?
                        
               or do I simply turn my back,
               leaving crying needs behind,
               convinced that my paltry pittance is so small
               that no difference will ensue...
               poverty and pain will ever be,
               regardless what I do-
               and surely my tears of shame and sadness
               cannot water Africa's sun-parched soil...

Torn                               apart...
Shriven                          in two...
I want to go home.
Dear God, I WANT TO GO HOME!

Mother Africa

Written on 24 July in Rwanda:
There is an earthiness about
Africa, quite independent of
the red clay dust which darkens every
surface in this arid season...
a pull which seems to come
from deep within the Mother's
breast...
a sense of being birthed and
nourished by the very soil
on which i walk...
intrinsic...organic...intuitive...
Words fail me, for
how do i describe the sense
of being in the place where
my own DNA began? the
elemental sense of knowing
that this is my first "home",
that all the steps that followed
are a journey of exploration,
leaving Mother's arms behind to
learn, to grow, to become more fully
who i am- all the time
carrying with me, unawares,
the soil of Africa on the soles of
my pilgrim's shoes.