The maternity ward and the nutrition center.
Our swing in our tree in our compound.
Our grass office.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
It's a long story...
...but here is my new home in the Yida transit camp in South Sudan. Further bulletins as events warrant.
Friday, January 13, 2012
B.
We've both spent the last week getting ready to leave. I couldn't stop thinking about that as I packed and repacked.
I am getting on a plane again tomorrow morning, and I wonder if you will have arrived at your destination by the time I arrive at mine. I've been thinking about when I was getting ready to leave for Mozambique and you told me to just go for it- to go with my whole heart. I don't think that you wanted me to leave, but you cheered me on when I did. I wish I could be as selfless as you, but I can`t. I don't want you to go.
I've been thinking about how strange it is that you are the one who is supposedly dying, and I am the one who is supposedly living. I find this odd, when it is me who is filling bags with more and more weight. Bags full of pills to ward off malaria and boost my nutrition. Full of clothes and lotions to keep away the heat of the sun. A million and one things designed to help me limp along somewhat successfully in this wretched planet. You on the other hand have been slowly letting go- letting go of the need for morphine and radiation and chemo and surgery. Away from the hold of pain and fear and disappointment. It seems like you are actually the one who is going to go on living, while we stay here and feel the sting of death and decay. I think that at some point I will be happy for you because of this, but tonight I am just sad.
I love you a lot, friend. I really do. You are the best man that I know. I will always be so thankful that I knew you, and so honored that you wanted to know me.
Journey well. I know that you will.
I am getting on a plane again tomorrow morning, and I wonder if you will have arrived at your destination by the time I arrive at mine. I've been thinking about when I was getting ready to leave for Mozambique and you told me to just go for it- to go with my whole heart. I don't think that you wanted me to leave, but you cheered me on when I did. I wish I could be as selfless as you, but I can`t. I don't want you to go.
I've been thinking about how strange it is that you are the one who is supposedly dying, and I am the one who is supposedly living. I find this odd, when it is me who is filling bags with more and more weight. Bags full of pills to ward off malaria and boost my nutrition. Full of clothes and lotions to keep away the heat of the sun. A million and one things designed to help me limp along somewhat successfully in this wretched planet. You on the other hand have been slowly letting go- letting go of the need for morphine and radiation and chemo and surgery. Away from the hold of pain and fear and disappointment. It seems like you are actually the one who is going to go on living, while we stay here and feel the sting of death and decay. I think that at some point I will be happy for you because of this, but tonight I am just sad.
I love you a lot, friend. I really do. You are the best man that I know. I will always be so thankful that I knew you, and so honored that you wanted to know me.
Journey well. I know that you will.
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