Calling Every Place Home

I’m currently wallowing in my own exhaustion, sickness and itch for change. I’ve been everywhere man and I just need to get back to Ikuna. I have no news that will make any sense so I’ll just throw up some blog poetry and call a spade a spade; I need a vacation from my mind, a way to make everything good and a Purple Heart Winter Coat Program to appear in Ikuna, with me and 20kilos of pig in toe so I can just have one last Hoorah and get this show moving somewhere that makes me feel a little more valid…The strangest thing is that I want that place of validity to be here. Oh Tanzania! How illusive you truly are!



Just for now. And here we go….
Fighting it out.
Lets not get bitter in the end.
Come and go.
Move me, move over, move mountains.
Making sense of the senseless.
The Atoms in my body going from super power charged to a beige shade of neutral.
Sounds reminiscent of manic depressive to me!
Key number 23 in the unofficial Peace Corps Survival Handbook: expertise in self diagnosis and treatment.
Ughhhhh. Oooooh. Annnnnnnnnd……
Transition!

Let’s you and I build an empire. Of sunshine. And flower gardens painted with hues from the iVibrant! color selection.
Or maybe the journey continues,
and the story never ends,
and Mama Witi takes her throne next to God
and God steps down to duke
And Humanity is RIGHTeous…
…no, humanity cannot be right it just never fails to feel so damn wrong.
After thought, after thought. Is there ever forethought?
It’s only true that hindsight makes unreachable grasses greener,
and nothing that was once So Good will be thus again.
But back to that empire of sunshine,
the ideas that free flow through time,
and a garden that grows from a natural underground lake.
No rain, no need,
nonsense.
A mystical, thuggish, love infused candle burns both ends
and this is the result.




These are the people from my training class that live around Njombe: Kat, Greta, Ralph (back), Kate, Brie, Me, Sarah, Teresa