I just watched The Interpreter and Blood Diamond for the first time. I know. What took me so long?
Normally I have to work myself in to watching anything about Africa. Because I know I'll get too upset.
So, I'm not exactly sure why I decided to watch two movies about genocide in Africa in one night.
I was on the verge of breakdown when Chattie walked across my lap-my living reminder of the part of my heart I left in Africa.
The part that dreams of peace, but knows it will probably always be a dream. The part that longs for a cure for the diseases that ravage it daily, but knows that those cures may never be available to the ones who need it tho most. The part that longs to see her face again, but doesn't know if I will on this side of eternity.
I miss the rains down in Africa. . .
1 comment:
I still can't bring myself to watch trailers for those movies, not to mention the actual film itself.
I think our hearts will always be broken for Africa and her people and the darkness they live in.
I woke up the other night to a storm...a horrible thunderstorm. And immediately was reminded of all the nights I woke up in Abidjan, top floor of the guesthouse, opening my eyes and watching the rain gush from the heavens in the lights from the porch below. It made me terribly homesick...
I find comfort in knowing you share my sorrow for Africa. The sorrow that sometimes chokes the air from my lungs.
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