It's been some serious time since I touched this blog. Not that I haven't longed to write or update about what's next on the horizon. Maybe it's just the part of me that thinks if I leave it un-touched I won't lose those good feelings.
So many adjustments in the past (nearly a year already) since landing back at home. I think I expected to struggle a bit with my re-entry into the retail part of A Soft Landing when I came back. The day after arriving home I was back at the shop, which thanks to the lovely Kari and her lovely Mother was totally re-designed. Aryn did an amazing job of keeping the shop going in my absence and surprisingly, I was happy to be back... at first. I was happy that I could walk into my shop after being some place where the basic necessities can be challenging to get and not be totally freaked out. Our stuff was useful after all. Cloth diapers are smart and eco-genius. Breastfeeding pillows, while they may seem a bit random, are useful for things other than feeding.. organic cotton is always a good thing if you can swing the price and of course there were the services. Mom's could gather, weigh, feed, cry, change bums, eat while I cuddled and shadowed. I really fell back in love with my space and my families very quickly.
But... then the crying started. I cried until I choked and made myself sick with crying. I want to cry now as I think of it. The minute my head would hit the pillow at night, I'd feel the weight on my chest. The sad, deep sorrow of missing Ghana coupled with the sad, deep sadness of not being able to help. On my first Sunday home, I slept more than I slept on my first night in Nkawkaw. I was truly haunted by feelings that were so unfamiliar to me, I still can't fully describe it. In my sleep I am told I was crying one minute and laughing the next. Remember... Promise... Never to forget.
Some of the memories I carried home involved poverty and hunger. Africa is not what I was raised to think of it as. It isn't okay to exploit anybody's poverty for our own North American need to feel better about our own gluttony. I understand this now at a visceral level. But some of the memories I carried home involved poverty and hunger... and I couldn't have known how affected I'd be by those pictures in my mind. This stays with me and always will. I will do every little thing I can to alleviate it from here, however little that may be. Every little thing is something and believe me when I say it is valued. Important to have contact with someone on that end who you can trust to put your little bits in the places they belong. I will never, ever forget or stop trying.
