Mara Ya Sita
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| Morning in Iringa - Feb 2014 |
Those were my last words in Iringa. It was August 2008, the end of my fifth visit to Tanzania and a summer practicing pastoral care and counseling with companions and colleagues in the Iringa Diocese. My eyes were fixed on Milwaukee and a string of flights from Dar to Dubai and through New York.
Home at last.
Or Home again.
From one home to another.
Until then.
The road.
It has been a long time.
And now I'm back, somewhat unexpectedly, in Iringa. Standing on the same balcony as before. Breathing in the same cool, smoke-tinged highland air. Feet covered in the same red dust.
Mara ya Sita. The sixth time.
Same-Same but Different.
No longer a visitor, I'm answering a call, expanding a career, building a life here and in Minnesota. Familiar faces are met anew. Three-step handshakes are paired with a gesture of touching my heart - a carryover from my years in Sabah. Life rolls on, and so do I.
Crafting a bifurcated home
Accompanied, as always, by
The road.
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