Scorpio draped his long tail across the southern horizon in the three AM Tuesday darkness, and other unfamiliar constellations sparkled in the deep shadows above the Gulf of Mexico. A Chuck Wills Widow chirped from somewhere in the tangle of sea grapes, palmettos and oats covering the dunes. I was feeling uneasy in this, the most familiar environment I know. Soon my taxi to the airport would arrive and the journey to Rwanda, planned for a year, would begin and end with touchdown in Kigali at 7:30 PM Wednesday local African time.
African time.
It has been several years since I had visited the continent and more years than I care to count since I have wandered through the cities, villages and mountains of Rwanda. Africa is changing. It is no longer the “dark continent,” inaccessible and mysterious. Africa has modern cities, international transportation and tourism is booming. Of course, you can still find "traditional” Africa if you look for her, and that is what I want to do on this trip.
I don’t want to work or think about the news, although I am sure that stories will come to me.
So why am I feeling uneasy? Fear of flying is part of it, and the anxiety increases the older I get. In fact, the fear is strong enough that I could easily decide to stay home. But the pull is stronger than fear. There are people I have not seen in years that I miss because they miss me. They are literally pulling me across the ocean and down to the equator.
That sounds strange, I know. But this is not a self-serving journey. Getting to Africa is a journey of the mind, and the heart follows. In this western culture that I call “home,” it is rare that people express a depth of caring. My friends and adopted family in Congo and Rwanda are literally willing my safe journey.
One of my “sons,” and my “daughter,” sent me the same message this morning.
“Safe travels beautiful mother.”
Another message.
“It will be a sign of relief for me to see you again after many years. Our God protects you.”
I feel their collective will that I return safely.
Anxiety subsides.
If only this American culture were so willing to express great depths of feeling. It would help me to navigate a modern state of mind that has lost the innate human ability to express, love, care, and concern openly. A modern state of mind that forgets that, sometimes, turning to God is the greatest love one can offer.
Comments