Farewell

As I left to board my plane for home, I looked around the airport. People crammed inside the small terminal, waiting for their next flight. There were only three shops open, two Duty Free stores where you can buy electronics, candy and small gifts and a breakfast shop. The small menu at the breakfast shop served pizza and breakfast bites. I was really hungry but decided to eat my pre-purchased meal on the plane. Mauritian food started to get on my nerves.
I sat part relieved and part sad. I didn’t quite want to go home. Yet, I had experienced enough of the island and I was anxious to get off just to go to more places. I wanted to see our next destination, Johannesburg!
Most of the trip I had to hurry up and wait to see things. I rushed to see new people and places then I rushed to leave because I wanted to see more new people and new places. Everything was exciting. Plus, I heard tale that Johannesburg was really nice. My anticipation grew. I’d be in more modernization too. Plus, I could say that I touched Nelson Mandela’s country. Just because. That thought on its own made me feel cool.
Then I thought. You know, its one thing to be in your home in America, with running water, working lights and convenient food. Matter of fact, everything in America is convenient. There are entire aisles in supermarkets solely dedicated to just cereal or cheese. Even the pets have their own aisles. You can go anywhere and do anything, in legal means. You can buy anything.
You say to yourself as you read books on comfy pillows or watch a show about other cultures, “I want to go there one day. I want to see the people.”
All cool. But I do want to let you know that you have to be great in-shape and prepared.
Like it’s cool to see a woman skilled in washing clothes on a huge rock in a canal. She pulls the garments out of the water so clean.
Or watching a hunter accurately put a spear in a gazelle, while barefoot, after running two miles, at full speed to catch him.
Or be a little schoolgirl who fetches her family’s fresh water for the day.
You think its cool.
It’s just another thing when you’re living it.
None of my family or close friends could imagine me beating clothes against a rock to get them clean.
My clothes would come out of the same canal looking tie dyed and muddy. My hands bloodied and probably scarred from hitting the rock. While the lady’s fine hands and garments are the cleanest in the land.
Chasing that gazelle would have me out of breath and hungry a many of days. And I wore Nike Trainers.
The gazelle would just probably come around my hut, graze and stare just to taunt me. If I made a move to get up he wouldn’t run either.
My poor arm strength and aim wouldn’t hit him standing 20 feet away. I couldn’t wrestle him to the ground. He’d become my pet because even then I wouldn’t know how to slit his throat correctly. And I love eating meat.
I’m not accustomed to carrying a barrel of water on my head all the way back to the village. After I’ve spilled all the water, persons in my hut would be thirsty.

As I sat, waiting on my plane, Kell and I looked at each other and for some strange reason we both decided that Nigeria and Ethiopia were two places we didn’t want to stay. We could go and pass through. Take a ride through the countries, but no overnight stops.

When you live these things it becomes Experience.