Well,
Helen and I are back in the U.S. Neither of us was quite ready to come
home -- Helen's just about as hooked on Somanya now as I am. But
there's so much work to be done here to get this project the rest of
the way off the ground, and the next phase requires my presence and
energies here.
I decided not to inflict my incoming culture
crash on my friends and co-workers this time. I had a very rough
landing last time, and they were very patient with me, but I wanted to
spare them having to go through it again. So I'm staying at my sister's
house in Chattanooga for a few days. I plan to return to Mobile on
Monday, and I'll be hitting the ground running.
Bernard and I
are extremely happy with the progress made by our workers in the three
short weeks we were all together. In the last two days, especially,
everything really started clicking, with everyone gaining confidence in
their skills and fine-tuning their workmanship. We ended our last work
session with a party at our neighborhood bar/cafe. There was a lot of
music and laughter and dancing. It made for a happy note on which to
end our stay.
Packing was a challenge, but we ultimately brought
home a lot of absolutely smashing jewelry and key chains and fan pulls,
not to mention I don't know how many pounds of beads -- enough that we
had to ask Bernard to wait outside the airport doors until we'd passed
through baggage weigh-in, just in case we needed to send some of them
back to Somanya with him. But we passed. The goodbye was hard
for me. I don't know how long it will be before I can go back, and I
already miss my friends in Somanya, especially Bernard. I've gotten so
used to him being right there, always ready with his wise counsel when
I get bogged down in cross-cultural confusion, so sensitive and
attentive to our needs and wants and feelings, his humor adding so much
fun and flavor to the mix of impressions and reactions and emotions
that now make up my sense of Africa. It would be a very different place
for me without his presence there. I only hope I can learn enough from
him to be able to continue this project without him when, as will
inevitably happen, he moves on to other things some day.
But
that's for later. What lies immediately ahead is the part he can't help
with; the part I find most daunting -- the marketing here in the U.S.
I'm trying to school myself to think of it as an exciting challenge.
I'm trying to keep faith that the help we need will appear when we need
it, as it always has with this project. I'm trying to stay open to that
help in all the many unexpected forms it may take; to stay alert enough
to recognize it, quick enough to grab it, strong enough to hold onto
it, and sensitive enough to nurture it. But I'm scared. The ante is so
much higher now that eight people are counting on this project for a
steady, ongoing source of income that has the potential to transform
their lives, the lives of their present and future families, and, to a
lesser extent, the welfare of an entire community.
But there are
a few things I've learned from this project, important things, I think.
I've learned that fear evaporates when you turn and run straight at it,
so that's what I'm going to do again this time. I've learned that when
you ask for things for the right reasons, help appears. And I've
learned -- or rather relearned -- that when individual people commit to
pooling their good intentions and resources, they truly can change the
world. I'm one of the fortunate ones in having had the opportunity to
see that happen first hand. I thank each one of you for that.
