Full Moon

8.6.09 7:24am Amsterdam Airport

Moving from the Third World to the First world was as drastic a change as a man changing into a werewolf. And it even came with a full moon. I ate salad on the plane. Spoons, knives and forks were expected tools for eating the on-flight meal. I walked into the Amsterdam airport at a five times the speed I have moved in the last six weeks. While Nairobi had the feel of an American city at times, the African ways, customs, languages, and attitudes still lingered and ran business as usual, usual for Africa.
Pole, pole (Slowly, slowly) was replaced with Hurry, hurry! And the space was overwhelming. I felt as if the drain in the ground had opened, sucking in half of humanity since I see only two dozen people at the gate for the connecting flight. Where are all the gregarious people, their handful of children, the bright colors of life? The airport in Amsterdam felt like a sterilized hospital in comparison to the world in which I have lived. I can drink from the tap!

But as drastic the physical differences seem, I think the emotions, attitudes and passions of the werewolf made him a more exciting/terrifying morph man. Such would have to be the case when coming home to America from Africa. What will change, what has changed?

My head is swimming with this question as I think a profound idea should illuminate the otherwise groggily gray spaces within. I am stuck at this time to pin point those thoughts. I know I have experienced, seen, felt things that will impact my life forever. But I think the profound idea I can articulate is a simple observation that relationships are planted, germinate, grow and are pruned the same all over the world. I left America knowing friends awaited me. One of the first people I spoke to in Africa was my friend Harriet from tour. And she sent us off, too, via phone but still with warm wishes for traveling to our home and grateful sentiments for visiting her home.

She might wash with a basin while I take hot showers. She might eat rice and potatoes everyday while I eat salad and apples. She might sleep under a mosquito net while I sleep under thick blankets. But in the end, we are universally the same. We can be man and werewolf simultaneously- the ordinariness and odd quirks making us unique as individuals but drawing us close in both curiosity and genuine love for what we can share with each other. Stark differences in culture and habitat might seem like huge barriers, but the human spirit and ability to dream bind us together no matter our homeland.

My way of life might change a bit. I’ll probably be more cautious of wasting resources and more apt to do with what I have versus consuming. Kids in Mombasa will still study world history but perhaps with a different perspective of white people. Either way we’ll go through life dealing with universal issues of dating, illness, child rearing, employment and hopefully hosting parties to celebrate life lived together.