I leave in two and a half days for Italy - how exciting! But before I leave, I wish to recount events from my past trip to Tanzania. Let's start with this picture:
Here I introduce you to the happiest child I know - and that is pretty bold to say considering every child I met has a smile that could light up the world. But this child's smile (on the left) truly does. Unfortunately I never got to learn her name, but her sweet demeanor will always stick with me. She lived next door to us in this tiny little hut, about an eighth of the size of our place. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her feet were covered in scratches. Yet while she may have lived in a tiny house with seemingly nothing, she could not have been happier. Perhaps it is all she has known, but her sense of appreciation for what she has is overwhelmingly powerful. And when I visited her household, her family welcomed me in as if I was one of their children, offering me food and tea, regardless of how much they had or how much it cost. I was moved to tears of my own retrospection. It makes me wonder what happened to the rest of us. Why can the rest of us not be like that little girl?
We are so lucky to have all the luxuries in our lives - from running water to electricity to a solid roof over our heads. This little girl had none of that, but that did not matter to her. She had some place to live with a family that cared for her more than anything. Possessions are only material and can easily, while our family is what will always remain. Now, I am not saying this is the time to find your family and hug them to death, for I fully understand that a lot of our families are pretty dysfunctional (mine is no exception). Yet rather than let any dysfunction push them away, try to look beyond the faults and welcome them into your life. I have been trying ever since I returned, and although it has been difficult, I do feel I have made progress in improving the relationships I have with my family members. Hopefully one day my family can have the same sense of love and appreciation as that of the little girls. When and if that will happen, I do not know, but I do know it is better to try than sit by the wayside and let your family slip away. Hold on to them, as they will last longer than the computer in front of you or lightbulb turned on behind you.
I must depart for now, but I expect to return later or tomorrow with a new picture and a new insight. Until then, as they say in Kswahili, "amani" (peace).
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