I’m sitting near the window across from a church facing the indian ocean listening to people sing and thinking about my trip.  I imagine this will be my last post before I go home so I am thinking back to the beginning.  How we came here worried and nervous about our trip and now that it is nearly over I wonder how we ever doubted ourselves.  It has changed me, in a good way.  I am more patient and since I have seen the water flow I know more than ever that anything is possible if you just dream it up.

 What I love about travelling with my daughter is the the makeup has come off, the cloths are simple (and smelly now) and you can’t get any more basic then we are right now.  We laugh at the most bizarre things and cry at injustice (or just tiredness).  When you are past the point of exhaustion the walls come down. You can’t hide anything and you can see all of our flaws, and there are many, but you can feel the beauty in it too.  The beauty that we are all just human.
I will miss the dirt roads, the ugali, seeing women carrying water and food, although I hope that is someday not necessary.  I will miss the color and the noise, the hand shaking and the laughter of the people.  I will miss the hot sun and the chilly nights, the crowds of people and the children following you everywhere.  I will miss the women yelling and dancing and the food they cook.  I will miss seeing the water flow and working with my hands in the dirt.  I will miss Abu, Yasinta and Richard.  Mostly I will miss Moshi.  Moshi has promised to go back and forth to the village and take pictures so we can see the trees grow.
Tanzania is a harsh place and it is also flawed but between the cracks in the dry earth you can see it’s intense beauty.   We are all connected and even though Tanzania feels like a world away the things that we do on our side of the planet affects the people here, so I plan to tred more lightly for the people of Cheku.
Goodbye Tanzania and I hope that we meet again soon.