by JD | Dec 11, 2011 | Tanzania
White sandy beaches, warm tropical breezes, the sound of rain on tin roofs, bustling markets with the smell of cumin and cinnamon, brilliant colored vegetables and yes, the stench of the fresh catch of the day… wide-open smiles with sparkling white teeth, dark brown skin, the vibrant kangas (the women’s clothing)… then add the sounds of Swahili and laughter in the air… We are indeed in Africa… Zanzibar, to be exact.
This island is famous for being a hub of the Arab slave trade back in the 18th and 19th century and, of course, known worldwide for its spices and beautiful beaches.
The pace is slow. They call it TIA… “This is Africa”. And they have a phrase called, “ Pole Pole” (pronounced Paulie, Paulie), meaning “slowly, slowly”. Not an easy task for a westerner who has been taught that faster and more efficient is better. But I am learning.
The boys and I have arrived on this lush oasis off the coast of mainland Tanzania in east Africa. We were welcomed with open arms by Creative Solutions, an art school in the small village of Mangapwani built by Aida Ayers and Mbarouk Saad. Here, children and adults are offered all kinds of educational opportunities. I am currently teaching English in an open-air classroom, and Jackson and Buck are helping run the pre-school group. The kids are so angelic, creative, available and joyful.
Currently, we are preparing for an art fair on the 17th of December, which will bring the locals together to sell their wares and share their art.
Our work here is especially gratifying, as each student is sincerely eager to learn. To master English here on Zanzibar is to open up a multitude of life possibilities and opportunities. Farming and the tourist trade are two of the major industries here, and English is essential for the success in either field. All of my students (10 to 30), depending on the day, have managed to steal my heart. We talk in broken English and they try to teach me Swahili…they fascinate me. We talk about farming, how they hook up their ox to their carts, raising goats, how they pick the Jack Fruit off the trees… We talk about futbol, and music ( one’s favorite called “Bongo Favor”)…and we drink Coca-Cola, Orange Fanta and Stoney Tangawizi (my new favorite – it tastes like spicy Ginger Ale)…. And the best part is we laugh our heads off.
This small village offers little opportunity other than farming, but the locals do their best to eek out a living. To have some land and an ox, cow, goat or chickens is to live well. Again the thing that strikes me most, is the joy in which they live.
Creative Solutions is a vital part of Mangapwani, offering a haven for those who want to improve their lives. With a small staff of teachers and helpers, this place is making a huge difference. They function on a very small budget but they are certainly not compromising on the education they are providing. Twelve In Twelve is committed to help this school. Anyone interested in organizing simple books for their library or even pencils, pens and paper or composition books, please let me know. They are functioning with the bare necessities and need help in every area, whether supplies, monetary donations, and/or volunteers. They have plans to expand the facility by adding a second classroom. Currently the adult classes and children’s classes are held under the same roof.
On our down time, the boys and I head down the road to the beach. Not your average beach. I know I am prone to painting extravagant visuals, but this beach is picture postcard perfect. White sand, turquoise blue water, seashells still in tact, sand crabs scurrying sideways and deep blue skies with billowing clouds. Words don’t do it justice. Just know that when we are there, the boys and I look at each other with this grin of “Holy Cow!”. Sometimes we will be walking down the road in this euphoric tropical setting and Jackson will look just look at me and say, “Dad…. We are on Zanzibar in East Africa”. And we will all three just get it!
Last weekend we went into Stone Town. Jackson, Buck and I took a Dolla-Dolla. That’s a sort of bus/taxi that is filled to the brim with people. There were so many people crammed in that little bus that eight people were hanging on the outside of it, Jackson being one of them. It was a crazy adventure. Buck and I managed to get to a seat inside peering across at men, women and children staring and smiling at us. A beautiful feeling… boiling hot, but beautiful, nonetheless.
We are on the journey of a lifetime. And the good news is we know it. The people we have met, the sights we have seen, the experiences we have shared together… it has all been extraordinary and life altering. And not just the pleasant parts either. We have been given the opportunity to experience the poverty, the need, the less fortunate, those just trying to survive… the hungry, the sick, the poor, the crippled, the lepers and the orphaned. This is a sacred journey that will stay with us forever. When I say that we will never be the same, it sounds trite. But I feel it and I know my sons do too. The world is a big place full of different cultures and customs… But we are members of the human race with hearts, with pain, with joy, with needs, with hope, with the will to survive. We are all in this together. I hope that our volunteering in each of these places so far has been of some help. I think it has… and there is so much more to do.
Until soon….
by JD | Dec 3, 2011 | Rwanda
The boys and I have had the most extraordinary experience in Rwanda. We wrote a one-act play about the First High School of Performing Arts in Rwanda with the teens from The Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village. With traditional music and dance, we wove in some hip-hop and modern music and spoken word. We performed it in the Amphitheater in the village. It was amazing. They tore it up!!!! So exciting to watch. Every last one of them (20 actors in all) blew my mind. So gratifying for all of us. We wrote the piece from scratch with the ideas of these students. Every subject from Love, Friendship, Betrayal, Conflict, The Genocide, Discipline, and Passion. My dear friends Medea and Longine saw to our every need and we miss them terribly. I’m hoping to have Medea come to Charlotte to do a Rwandan Dance and Singing workshop at NorthWest School of The Arts next year. I think the kids would benefit from her talent and her story… she was a survivor of the Genocide.
Once more the hardest part is saying goodbye. These teens have been our family for the last 3 weeks. Each one of them has made a difference in our life, truly. After the show we had a “get together” and they all shared what they had learn from the experience. It reminded me why I’m an artist. They said that they learned passion was an important part of life, that speaking up and being heard is giving a gift, that discipline is important in the process, and that love and acceptance is the answer. Wow! Nearly bawled my eyes out. These kids are the future leaders of Rwanda… remarkable spirits.
So once again, we packed our bags. We headed to a school in the north of Rwanda called, “Mwiko”. This particular school has no running water or electricity. With the help of Francis and Danny, our incredible hosts, we had a remarkable time in the town of Musanze. Each morning we headed to Mwiko Primary School, set on a mountain top between two pristine lakes… Gorgeous!
But even more gorgeous, were the kids… I can’t describe the joy and wide open spirits of these kids. Shy at first, they each unfolded before us to allow us into their amazing world. These kids live with the bare necessities, but have taught us a substantial lesson…. that happiness cannot be bought. They LIVE joy. They are all in need of scholarships to go to secondary school. For $2,000 a year, you can help a child get an education in Rwanda that will change the course of their lives. Twelve In Twelve is committed to help in that department. If it sounds of interest, please let me know. Needs are great….
The kids of Mwiko and I shot a movie together… they were able to shoot with my camera and we came up with something we were all proud of…. I will post it shortly.
Thank you also to Mothering Across Continents (www.motheringacrosscontinents.org), who helped us arrange our visit to Mwiko. They are doing wonderful things for the school there. We also had the great pleasure of meeting a man named Tom Allen, who has an organization called, “Bridge2Rwanda”. He’s an American here in Rwanda, who has been instrumental in the development of many programs here in Rwanda. Please check out their website (www.bridge2rwanda.org).
And if all that wasn’t enough, we had the opportunity of spending time with Dr. Jan, the gorilla doctor! She was awesome! She shared with us many fascinating stories and insights into the world of the Rwandan Mountain Gorillas. And then… I was able to go on a GORILLA TREK! Yep… right up close… they brushed up against me!!! Wild! And yes, I took this picture and this Silver Back was right in front of me, checking me out. The boys were too young and they have strict rules for visiting the gorillas… so I owe the boys a gorilla trek…
After sadly leaving Musanze, we returned to Kigali to lead a two day workshop for WeACTx… a program for kids living with HIV. We played games and did Improv…. danced, sang… laughed.. Thanks to Noam for all her help and inviting us to have such a meaningful experience with these beautiful kids. They taught the kids and I songs, dance steps… but the most important lesson they taught was courage…
And if that wasn’t enough of an experience in Rwanda, the icing on the cake was getting to meet His Excellency, Ambassador Koran. We were guests at the U.S. Embassy in Kigali and sat and chatted with the charismatic Ambassador Koran. Many thanks to Susan Falatko, Public Relations Officer, who made it all possible.
The smell, the earth, the sunshine, the tropical rain, the people, the warmth and the children will stay etched in our memory for eternity. Rwanda is a special place that I know we will return to…. Getting on the plane now to Tanzania is bittersweet. We have heard great things about Zanzibar … that’s where we are headed to work at an Art School in a little town called Mangapwani. More to follow:
by JD | Nov 12, 2011 | Rwanda
Our stop-over in Egypt was beyond our wildest dreams. To stand before the Great Pyramids of Giza and the mighty Sphinx was a childhood dream of mine. And Buck got to see it all on his 9th birthday. 
There are no words that can describe the grandeur of the pyramids and to think, they were built by hand. Amazing! Going inside the Pyramids was something that Jack and Buck were excited about.
Claustrophobia is alive and well in Giza, Egypt. Holy Cow! 
The tunnel into the center of the pyramid is a crawl space at best, and the air gets thicker and thicker as you arrive at the burial chamber in the center…the size of a walk-in closet. Yikes! With my heart pounding in my ears and having a full-on anxiety attack, I managed to celebrate Buck’s 9th, center pyramid. Talk about a quantum leap for me in the department of phobias.
Because of the revolution and political upheaval in Cairo, the tourist trade is way down… Way Down. And you can feel it in the desperation of the vendors. The people selling souvenirs around the pyramids and the guys hawking camel rides are desperate for your business and it’s a bit intimidating. “No Thank You” does not seem to make an impact. It was non-stop and the boys and I felt overwhelmed at times, but certainly felt for them. After the Elephant Nature Park, we had no desire to ride a camel.
On our flight from Egypt to Rwanda… get this…. Buck got to fly in the cockpit with the pilots for the entire flight. No lie. The pilots were American and said they would be happy to have an additional Captain. Can you believe it? That would never happen EVER in the states! Buck got to experience take-off and landing from the jump seat in the cockpit. Jackson and I were incredibly jealous.
And now we are in Rwanda. We arrived on a night flight but instantly noticed two things in Kigali (pronounced CHI-gali). First the streets are spotless, not one piece of trash to be found, which was refreshing after India. The second was the smell, best describe as the “Sweet Scent of Earth” – Red clay earth… Incredible! You can’t help but feel the connection to the land… and yes, the ghost of the genocide still lingers. That horrible event that claimed nearly a million lives.
We arrived at the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village late that night and were shown to our room. This is a school built for the children who were orphaned during the Genocide here in Rwanda.
We woke up the next day to the sight of deep-green rolling hills with patchwork fields as far as the eye could see…. And the clouds, whiter than white… the kind you can see animals and angels in.
We had arrived in the REAL Africa. The breeze, the smell, the view, the people. Yes, woman dressed in traditional, colorful dresses with pots, bags, twigs, bundles balanced on their heads. The kids and I laugh and say, “Do you think they do that for our benefit, or is it actually something they do when we are not around?” Our friends here at ASYV assure us that they do it all the time.
The teens here were shy with us at first. And we were a bit shy as well. Ends up that they speak English beautifully and they are the greatest. They are all teens up to 21 or so. We are working with a group of 20 students writing a one-act play about the first High School of Performing Arts in Rwanda… which, by the way, does not exist. Sounds like it might be a calling…
The show is going great. We have intertwined the traditional music and dance with some of the interests of the students… like hip-hop, romance, and humor. We will perform it the night before we leave.
The boys and I have also been invited to meet the U.S. Ambassador to Rwanda, His Excellency, Donald W. Koran. What an incredible honor. More to follow, as Rwanda unfolds before our very eyes.
by JD | Oct 25, 2011 | India
Leave it to the boys and me to find the one Tibetan Buddhist Monastery that has been ostracized by His Holiness, The Dalai Lama. It really is a compelling story for all you who think Buddhism is about chanting, meditating, and living a life of compassion.
When we arrived here at Shar Gaden, one of the first things Jampa, the charismatic secretary of the monastery said to me was, “We are having some issues with the Dalai Lama”. I was taken back, as I was under the impression that His Holiness was the Kingpin of Buddhism.
Apparently a number of years ago, the Dalai Lama asked all of his monasteries to quit practicing a certain meditation called Dorje Shugden. My understanding is that the Dalai Lama’s oracle, or guidance counselor, suggested to the His Holiness that they stop doing this particular practice. Because Dorje Shugden has been perceived by some as more of the “fire and brimstone” approach to Buddhism, His Holiness decided to give it the ax. It probably doesn’t help matters that the deity they propitiate is a scary looking figure with three eyes, a human heart in his one hand, a sword in the other, and a wrathful look on his face. Perhaps the Dalai Lama thought this menacing figure might scare some westerners away. Therefore, he required all the monks of the Tibetan monasteries to sign a pledge that they would no longer participate in this very old Tibetan ritual.
Here’s where the Bad Boys of Buddhism, my friends and monks of The Shar Gaden monastery, come in. It seems that the senior monks of Shar Gaden felt like discontinuing this practice was not in the best interest of their lineage.
They refused to sign the agreement… and apparently all hell broke lose. Many followers of the Dalai Lama became enraged with the Dorje Shugden followers. At one point when one of the Dalai Lama’s people was murdered, they blamed it on the group that chose not to sign the paper.
Cut to years later… In this isolated area of south-central India where an entire community of monks live, there is a great divide. As I walk down the street with my friend, Losang Tenpa, or as the boys and I call him, Monk Duke, he is glared at and in certain shops, they even refuse to serve him.
Monk Duke is a character. He’s from Minnesota and has been a practicing Buddhist for the last fifteen years. He has recently committed his life to the “monkhood”. He is the perfect poster child for the Bad Boys of Buddhism. He’s a sort of James Dean of the Red Robes. Rugged, with a past of drugs, alcohol and near death experiences… and I quote, “I have had a pretty crazy past.” Now he is a full-fledged member of Shar Gaden and the face of Western Buddhism in a sea of Tibetan and Nepalese monks. He holds his head high when he goes into town, even though he knows that many are scrutinizing him. He chose to side with the Shar Gaden lineage because his teacher, Geshe Tsultrim Gyaltsen, was determined to keep the Dorje Shugen practice alive. Monk Duke said that, “I have chosen to follow the teacher I have worked with for years. I have taken vows and commitments with this teacher, and my alliance is with him.”
The whole thing is shocking to me… My idea of Buddhism was about losing the ego, getting centered and quiet, and finding enlightenment. But it seems that things are a bit tense here in this area that was given to exiled Tibetan monks by the country of India. Over the last few years, words have been spoken, rocks have been thrown and most disturbing, great walls built around each of the many monasteries in the area. What’s wild is that, after the split, the properties here were allotted in a strange way so that some of Shar Gaden’s building are surrounding by building gained by the other monasteries that have issue with this group, making it an uncomfortable and tense living situation.
As an experiment the other day, Monk Duke and I visited a local store famous for not serving Shar Gaden monks. I went in and smiled, bought some flip flops for Buck, and then Duke came in to buy some incense. They wouldn’t even look up at him. So I piped in, “Hey, how much for the incense?” … they replied, “Forty Rupies”, and then I said, “I’ll pay for it.” They then smiled, took my money and when we went to leave, the man behind the counter and Monk Duke exchanged a smile. I felt like it was one step closer to Nirvana and I had done my small part to bridge a chasm between the two factions. Who knows… that simple meeting of the minds could have been the beginning of the reunification of the Tibetan Buddhist Federation. Or maybe not… I think it’s going to take more than a westerner’s smile to sort things out here. I’m thinking of coming back next year and shooting a documentary on the subject.
None of the controversy seems to have affected Jackson or Buck’s experience of this place. Buck instantly joined in on a game of Futbol with the younger monks. Kunga, one of the senior monks and a great character, took a liking to Buck and presented him with his own red robes. Yes, Buck spent his entire time dressed as a monk and sitting in on the meditations. He really took to it. He learned how to fold and wear the robes and also how to recite some of the mantras. Monk Duke even presented Buck with his own prayer beads, which he proudly wears to remind himself of his time at Shar Gaden. What an amazing experience for an 8 year old boy, eh?
Jackson jumped right in helping out with Monk Duke’s English classes. They all laugh when they hear his name because of Michael Jackson. These young monks can play a mean game of English language hang-man. And here’s some refreshing news, when we were practicing conversational English with them, we discovered that none of them knew who Lady Gaga was. How refreshing is that!
Our experience here has been eye-opening and truly delightful. We have made some great friends, had the opportunity to live with the monks and see their lives first hand, and have been able to discovery the beauty of monastic living. If the Dalai Lama spent some time with Monk Duke, Jampa, and Kunga, I’m sure they all could resolve this issue with compassion and loving-kindness.
If you are interested in knowing more about the Monks of Shar Gaden Monastery, check them out on FaceBook. They are in need of dedicated Pen Pals for the younger monks to practice their English with, and also English language books. Please let me know if you are interested in helping them.
by JD | Oct 12, 2011 | India
I have difficulty beginning this blog because I’m not sure how to approach it. I don’t want to appear melodramatic or better yet, over sensationalize my experience. But the truth is, being in India has truly changed my boys and my life. A bold statement… Yes. A truth, that is for certain.
We arrived at the foothills of the Himalayas in the small village of McLeod Ganj, known the world over as the exiled home of His Holiness, The 14th Dalai Lama. Entering the town by dark was a frightful experience… just ask my sons. We had booked a small room in a hotel high above the town with roads only big enough for the four wheels of the car that carried us up there. I want to be very clear… the roads, cut into the side of the mountain, were barely big enough for the four wheels of the car that carried us… one wrong twist of the wheel and we would have fallen to a sure death down a jagged mountain cliff.
We arrived at 3am to what would be our new home for the next 10 days. We unloaded our bags and then walked, yes, walked for ten minutes up a mountain cliff path to our hill top inn. From the late-night fright of cliff hanging, and from the exhaustion of toting our bags through the mountains in the dark, we settled in and fell fast asleep in our small one room abode.
We awoke to sunshine through the window and a view that reminded us that this was no ordinary journey. I can only explain it as “other worldly”, like we had experienced it before, or that we were in another time continuum. The kids and I looked at each other in awe. There was silence… emotion… history… color… magic.
We were served the local staple, porridge with bananas, and then headed down the hill to the village of McLeod to register to see the Dalai Lama speak. The mountain path down was no “late night illusion”…. It was just as frightening in the daytime. But with the sunlight came wild monkeys on the side of the road, the sacred cows of India, the colorful saris of the local woman, and as we approached the hustle and bustle of this small town, the red-robed Buddhist monks of Tibetan fame. I felt like I was home. Not that I am a Tibetan Buddhist, or have practiced Buddhism, but I felt safe and comfortable amongst, what I joked with Jack and Buck, “My People”.
That day was spent with great excitement. Dodging Tuk Tuk’s, cows, monks and an international crowd of people there to see The Dalai Lama speak… all in a tiny village stuck in another time, hanging off the foothills of the Himalayas.
The following morning, after our porridge, we headed to the temple to see His Holiness. Miraculously, though somehow I knew it would happen, we were saved seats 20 feet away from where the Dalai Lama would speak. Excitement filled the air. After what seems like a long anticipated wait, he appeared. Wow! His Holiness, The Dalai Lama’s smiling face right in front of me, as if in my own living room. There for my kids to experience, a living master, right there for Buck and Jackson to remember for a lifetime.
As he began to speak, something struck me. He’s just a man… yes, most assuredly an enlightened one, but a man, nonetheless. Having spent a career studying “celebrity” first hand, I had the epiphany that he was a sort of spiritual celebrity in a world of people who felt the need to worship him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s teaching were certainly inspiring and profound, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by a sense of spirit. Many others were. And then this thought, “Maybe we’re all the gurus”. Maybe, just maybe, we are all made in the likeness of God and that we are all the Dalai Lamas of our own experience… That all we really have is our own spiritual take on things. Everyone gets their choice of what they want to believe and whom they want to worship… at least in the free world. And what resonates in our heart to be true spiritually is what we have to hold on to.
I feel like I had a spiritual awakening in McLeod Ganj. But not one that was overpowering… a more subtle one. I think it made me want to take more responsibility for my own spirituality and to honor it … and perhaps to live more consciously… not in the way His Holiness sees it, necessarily, though a lot of what he had to say rang true to me, but maybe delving more inside myself and finding how “my” God wants me to live… being a more present parent, being less judgmental, more understanding and accepting, doing more for my fellow man.
Walking among the sacred cows, the poverty, the lepers, the poor, the monks, and the monkeys had a deep effect on me. And it did for my children as well. We had the incredible opportunity of working with political prisoner that are now refugees exiled from Tibet in McLeod. We taught English to these men and women who walked from Tibet to India to gain their freedom. One cannot remain the same when in the company of such brave and heroic figures. They shared with the kids and me their stories of being imprisoned just for carrying a Tibetan flag or showing up at a rally. They were beaten and imprisons for years. For westerns like the kids and me, it almost seemed unreal… Like it was just a story… But unfortunately, it’s a reality for many Tibetans.
One evening in McLeod, in honor of those we had been teaching, the boys and I got “buzz cuts” like the monks. It was a Lewis Family moment… with laughter, trepidation, and “are we really doing this?”… But then again it’s only hair…
The boys most certainly are different people now. For Jackson, 14, it has been the most noticeable. He has committed to being a vegetarian, which I have to say, I respect. He has become such a quiet force of compassion among the people we have met. And with the animals, too. We joke that he is Dr. Doolittle. It’s amazing to watch him.
Buck, “Mister Charismatic”, has gone in to action full tilt boogie and has people grabbing him for pictures, hugging on him and practicing their English on him. In McLeod, at a café we frequented, he got hired to be a waiter. No lie. He made cappachinos and served food and actually made tips. It was a riot to watch. He went back each day to work. He had a gang of friends at Café Buda. All of the customers were blown away.
Leaving McLeod was intense for all of us. It was like leaving summer camp as a kid. We had met so many awesome people and saying good-bye left a huge hole. We ended up taking the train – un-air conditioned and 3rd class (yikes… talk about intense) to Agra where we feasted our eyes on the Taj Mahal. I can’t put it in to words. I just can’t. Beyond extraordinary. Again, seeing my kids inside the Taj. Wow! And we had no idea the story behind the Taj Mahal. It was built as a monument of love for a wife who died while giving birth.
From there we went to Varanasi on the shores of the Ganges. This is the place where all Hindis go to swim in the sacred waters of this famous river. It is also were the Burning Gat is … this is where the Indians bring their dead to wash in the river, then burn the corpse on a fire by the shore, then spread their ashes in the river. It’s their belief that it is the quickest way to heaven…. To be burned on the Ganges. We took a boat (wood canoe) past the Burning Gat… and saw the bodies being wash and burned. It was mind-blowing. The boys and I discussed it later… it wasn’t morbid or scary… it was just very deep.
Which leads us to the poverty of Varanasi. Unless you have walked the streets and seen it first hand, I don’t think you can fully grasp it. Children naked and playing in the dirt, lepers laying in the street, families living in tiny tin or brick huts, cow dung everywhere, and the smell… quite often overwhelming. But here’s the twist, they seem happy. They really do. The kids are laughing, the old people have great smiles, the woman are beautiful…. 
Yes, there is a lot of begging… a lot, but it’s understandable. A foreigner walking down the street is just assumed to be rich… Sometimes it felt intimidating and a bit dangerous, but in the end no one wished us harm. They were just as curious about us, as we were with them.
Now we are headed to Mumbai where we will take a 12-hour bus ride to Hubli to work in a monastery. More enlightenment to follow…
White sandy beaches, warm tropical breezes, the sound of rain on tin roofs, bustling markets with the smell of cumin and cinnamon, brilliant colored vegetables and yes, the stench of the fresh catch of the day… wide-open smiles with sparkling white teeth, dark brown skin, the vibrant kangas (the women’s clothing)… then add the sounds of Swahili and laughter in the air… We are indeed in Africa… Zanzibar, to be exact.
This island is famous for being a hub of the Arab slave trade back in the 18th and 19th century and, of course, known worldwide for its spices and beautiful beaches.
The pace is slow. They call it TIA… “This is Africa”. And they have a phrase called, “ Pole Pole” (pronounced Paulie, Paulie), meaning “slowly, slowly”. Not an easy task for a westerner who has been taught that faster and more efficient is better. But I am learning.
The boys and I have arrived on this lush oasis off the coast of mainland Tanzania in east Africa. We were welcomed with open arms by Creative Solutions, an art school in the small village of Mangapwani built by Aida Ayers and Mbarouk Saad. Here, children and adults are offered all kinds of educational opportunities. I am currently teaching English in an open-air classroom, and Jackson and Buck are helping run the pre-school group. The kids are so angelic, creative, available and joyful.
Currently, we are preparing for an art fair on the 17th of December, which will bring the locals together to sell their wares and share their art.
This small village offers little opportunity other than farming, but the locals do their best to eek out a living. To have some land and an ox, cow, goat or chickens is to live well. Again the thing that strikes me most, is the joy in which they live.
On our down time, the boys and I head down the road to the beach. Not your average beach. I know I am prone to painting extravagant visuals, but this beach is picture postcard perfect. White sand, turquoise blue water, seashells still in tact, sand crabs scurrying sideways and deep blue skies with billowing clouds. Words don’t do it justice. Just know that when we are there, the boys and I look at each other with this grin of “Holy Cow!”. Sometimes we will be walking down the road in this euphoric tropical setting and Jackson will look just look at me and say, “Dad…. We are on Zanzibar in East Africa”. And we will all three just get it!
Last weekend we went into Stone Town. Jackson, Buck and I took a Dolla-Dolla. That’s a sort of bus/taxi that is filled to the brim with people. There were so many people crammed in that little bus that eight people were hanging on the outside of it, Jackson being one of them. It was a crazy adventure. Buck and I managed to get to a seat inside peering across at men, women and children staring and smiling at us. A beautiful feeling… boiling hot, but beautiful, nonetheless.
We are on the journey of a lifetime. And the good news is we know it. The people we have met, the sights we have seen, the experiences we have shared together… it has all been extraordinary and life altering. And not just the pleasant parts either. We have been given the opportunity to experience the poverty, the need, the less fortunate, those just trying to survive… the hungry, the sick, the poor, the crippled, the lepers and the orphaned. This is a sacred journey that will stay with us forever. When I say that we will never be the same, it sounds trite. But I feel it and I know my sons do too. The world is a big place full of different cultures and customs… But we are members of the human race with hearts, with pain, with joy, with needs, with hope, with the will to survive. We are all in this together. I hope that our volunteering in each of these places so far has been of some help. I think it has… and there is so much more to do.
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