i am thankful for... donkeys, cheese, and thunderstorms

today being Thanksgiving back home, i must start by giving thanks to all days, and to tomorrow, when i will leave for India. every hour on this trip so far has been worthwhile and useful and contributed to my learning and progress. i've had the last 6 days to reflect, unwind, relax and regenerate myself mentally, physically, and emotionally from the bombardment of information and experiences of Tanzania. for my vacation i returned to Maasailand with 3 friends. we spent 3 nights at the hostel at Ilaramatak community development center in Terrat and one night at the boma of Neyeyo, our translator from the previous visit. the ride over was crowded, bumpy, dusty, and absolutely wonderful. we crammed into a beat-up old safari jeep and took the long route from Arusha to Terrat, through dry gullies and acacia savannah and little villages scattered among pasturelands and corn and bean farms. for the first time we really travelled like the locals, and i felt so at home. my kind of ride.

on the second day the girls went back to our boma to give gifts of snuff and photographs (the former for the men, the latter for the moms and kids). i stayed at the center with Neyeyo's mom to help her make cheese and talk about education, geography, and life in general. i also finally got some alone time, which i relished by reading the Bhagavad Gita and sitting on the grass looking out at the quiet landscape. the next morning we walked with Neyeyo, Tataiyo (another translator friend), and Daniel (a warrior friend/bodyguard) for a good hour and a half to get to Neyeyo's boma. she lives in a clean concrete house very close to a large forest inhabited by a troublesome population of hyenas, lions, and leopards. didn't get to see any, though. we spent most of the day just talking and resting, and then we mande everybody the pasta marinara from supplies we carried from Arusha. i also helped prepare the chicken. i'm not just talking about the cooking, but also the plucking and gutting. i was so happy to get back in the kitchen and be useful. i hadn't realized how much i enjoy preparing food.

on our last day, we walked back to Terrat, stopping at Daniel's boma to meet his family and drink some goat-juice-and-herb soup. yummm. saying goodbye was really hard, but i know that the friends i made here will last. i don't know if i've ever gone somewhere and been able to relate to people so quickly and honestly as i was here. someday i'll return, i'm sure.

on our last night, a storm passed through, complete with lightning, thunder, and rough heavy rain. i stood outside to greet the oncoming torrent, feeling the surge of a real African rain, the beginning of the fertile season. in fact, the experience was so powerfully sublime, my inner romantic-naturalist Walt-Whitman wanna-be self could not be restrained, so i decided to write a little poem about it. please read (out loud if you like - this kind of thing sounds much better coming from human lips than from a computer screen) and enjoy. also, i always appreciate criticism. or snide remarks. or any kind of comment, really. or publication.

----

rain through the acacia

-

the wall the shadow

the sky's mighty hiss

no sunlight to frame its coming

no satellite report to quantify droplets

or categorize the response from the trees

as they cry softly and exhale

before the expecting mist blankets

the reaches of every possible trail.

-

and me, bowing backwards to the thunder

on my knees, eyes freed like liquid compasses

to find true headings from the clues

flooding every pore and nerve

and i greet the advancing battalions

with a sapling howl, i cry in freedom

for the rain on the acacia

washes out the blood from the old kingdom.

-

every day at home where the rain

falls and flows and drains - unappreciated

i scour my news and my most ethical

muse, but i am no medicine man

for the pain of this battered land

with symptoms on Wall Street and hospital

sheets stained with the epochs of death

that history books lazily relay - unappreciated.

-

somewhere under this soil and over the gray

the water runs parallel and rich as milk

but i still sink thoughtlessly when i know

that those gilded sorrows in the arteries below

flow north to saturate lands seeking grace

and the veins returning wind up in this place

with some bread, bullets, beer

and a bill for the disoriented human race.

-

out here exposed to the storm, to true people,

to resiliency and faith, to a working definition

of home

there is a great grasping pulse that pulls

as the night walks near and the slightest

warm breeze brushes off the fear unbounded

to reveal the sound of hope - grateful and silent

like the rain through the acacia

as the roots are released to feed.

----

now i'm back in Arusha, 15 hours away from leaving for India. not sure if i've got much closure on Tanzania, but i do feel a lot more grounded and strengthened for the next leg. it has been tough to balance my academic, personal, spiritual, and social lives, but i'm learning to sway between them more gracefully. all in all, i don't think i could possibly gripe about anything. i still feel almost sickeningly lucky and priviledged and honored to be here.

TTFN, and i'll check back in once i get to INDIA!!!!