Daydreaming

The thing about memories are they last a lifetime…or at least that’s what all the Hallmark cards tell me. Most of us can think back to a time when we were much younger, under the age of 10, and we can remember a specific activity or event. It’s a memory our brain has chosen to save for whatever reason. Maybe we save memories to release good feelings or maybe we save memories to teach ourselves lessons. Whatever the reason the fact is years down the road you will be able to recall, with clarity, something that has happened in the last 6 months. You will be able to remember where you were at, what everything looked like, the smells, the textures, the people. I don’t understand how our minds work. I don’t understand how it’s possible to be able to flash back to a memory more than two years ago and feel like I am still there. It feels so real.Of course I am talking about Africa.

There is a woman in class with me who also loves Africa. She used to be a missionary there for some years. She enjoys talking about our beloved continent and we get to share our stories and our passion. Every time I see her on Thursday mornings I get a little excited because there is a good possibility by the end of the class that we will have gotten to talk about Africa or an aspect of what we miss. The other day when I got to class she randomly asked me if I ever daydream about Africa. I looked at her with a little shock because I didn’t really think other people did that. She began to tell me that sometimes she finds herself lost in her own thoughts just thinking about certain people or places. And it was at that moment I realized I wasn’t crazy for all the day dreaming I do. When things get stressful at work or school or in life in general I daydream. I immediately find myself back in Mutundwe amidst the dusty roads and banana trees. That’s my retreat. I remember walking down the bumpy road to work every day and greeting the women on the side of the road and laughing with the kids on their way to school. I remember riding bodas through the city and sitting on taxis for hours. I remember how hot it could get and how cold 70 degrees felt at night. I remember the people, the kids, my friends and I miss them all.

It’s weird to say but a part of me feels like I was made for Africa. My heart didn’t know it until I first stepped foot onto her soil in 2006. It wasn’t an immediate thing. I actually remember feeling quite ill most of my first trip to Africa but as soon as I got home I couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same. I’m not sure what I was passionate about before Africa but I wouldn’t trade these memories for the world.