Dear Africa,
I’ll miss the 6am sunrise that brings the heat of the day.
The sprinting children from the nearby village, that dance with their bare feet in the sand.
The loud thud from the mortar and pestle.
Storming nights with cracks of thunder and rolls of lightening, that lull me to sleep.
Litter boxes wrapped in bamboo for number 1, and flower pots for everything else.
I’ll miss your ability to turn exhausting hours into wonderful days.
Hearing 100 feet stomp to Waka Waka by Shakira, as we move our bodies in unison.
The way your songs are filled with passion, and your dance filled with fire.
The sweet canopy of stars that blanket the sky.
How the mountains paint the perfect backdrop for every photo.
The rice lining of my stomach, and the hands that prepared it.
I’ll miss the warm smiles that served us tea from the morning leaves.
Warm Indian Ocean waters washing my body with the salt of the earth.
5 mile walks to and from the ministry of the day, and the conversations that got me there.
The hugs that wrap around my waist and stare me in the face.
How you place me in front of 40 eyeballs without a lesson plan and tell me to swim.
A fresh coconut cut open with a machete,
and a sweet mango.
The way you live in another realm of time, showing that quality matters to you.
The tender care for every soul, and the amount of babies wrapped in Capalanas.
Your relentless pursuit in your ability to create an itching mad woman from bug bites.
And the way you looked at me when I said goodbye.
I’m not sure if I’ll return, but I hope I’ll be called back to you.
There’s a magic here that stems from one thing:
The overflow of love being kindled by Jesus who brings hope.
If we ever find ourselves in a dance together again, I pray I won’t forget the steps you taught me.
After all; this is Africa.
Love,
Alisha
