Jew in Putti once wrote, "Like any other Jew, I
should not lose hope [to return to
is difficult. This means that one day my mouth will
be full of laughter, my tongue with joyful songs and
there I will say among other things that 'The Lord has
done great things in my life.' At this moment,
though, I will be like those who sow in tears and thus
reap in joy."
I am so lucky. I am so lucky, I told myself, over and
over again as I flew over the desert from one paradise
to another. I have gone from the pearl of Africa,
where chickens cross the dirt roads more than human
beings do (I've asked myself 'why' on countless
occasions), to the land flowing with milk and honey,
where beauty is trumped only by holiness. I have
cried painful tears over my departure and an equal
number were shed upon arrival in the developed, holy,
particular order--the washer and dryer, Eden, and the
My last few weeks in
A vacation to the relaxing
went from sleeping on the beach to sleeping in the
grass to sleeping in the hammock to sleeping in the
tent. I read hundreds of pages of book and wrote
pages and pages of journal. There were parrots in the
trees and bilharzia in the lake-one of the many exotic
diseases that were tested during my 3 day hospital
visit upon arrival in Israel (another long, boring
malaria story that I will spare you from).
And then back to the village for the wind down. Did
some work, had some goodbye parties (one in Putti, one
in headquarters), recorded my debut album-Molly and
Sarah's Most Excellent Prayer Adventure-packed my
bags, cried my eyes out, and left.
I have no more exciting stories to tell though my life
has been far from unexciting. I long ago lost my
flare (or interest?) for explaining the funny details
of travel--perhaps they became commonplace. And even
after all this time, I still cannot explain that which
I could never explain. I will never be able to
explain what living in
me. I will not be able to put the stars into words or
let you hear the bleating cries of the goats. You
cannot feel the sun burning my skin through my
clothing and you cannot see the sun's rays as they
inexplicably tear the clouds apart. Hardest of all, I
will never be able to explain the children.
I have now been in
experiencing reverse culture shock. Physically, it is
very easy to get used to the fully developed
world--twenty three and a half years of life have been
in this comfortable setting of showers and
televisions. Emotionally and philosophically,
however, the first world is much more complex than the
developing third. Living in
to basics", to the simple, to the clear and obvious,
to the understandable. It is the developed world that
is complex and impossible to understand-easy to
explain, but impossible to understand.
Also, it is strange to be around so many white people.
As far as I am concerned, I am home and my trip is
over. I am back with family, back with friends, and
back to my real life. Before I end, I just want to
thank all of you, dear readers, for your time,
attention, responses, packages, phone calls, and love.
You've been a wonderful audience.
P.S. For photos, check out this site periodically: