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In Africa

June 23, 2009

After a six hour flight from Boston to London, a ten hour flight from London to Johannesburg, South Africa and a two hour flight from South Africa to Blantyre, Malawi, we were picked up by a driver and taken one hour to Zomba, Malawi. While still severely jet-lagged (the clock says 10:25 a.m.; my body thinks it’s 4:25 a.m.), this is what I wrote in my journal about my initial impression of this new place in which I find myself: “The house is something of a villa with tiled floors and walls and porches in the front and rear with views of the tawny grasses and green trees that surround us on the hillsides. I’m sitting now in our bedroom, brilliant light flooding in at me, looking out toward the plateau above us and the almost cloudless sky above that. The clarity of the light is striking. So is the sheer, abundant and unadulterated Africa-ness of this place. I’ve never been in a new place that felt so old and familiar before. Is it from all the TV shows and news photos and novels and magazine articles that I’ve seen–all depicting a place very much like what I see outside this window? Or am I experiencing that somehow primeval recognition some travelers get on arriving here in this most ancient of places?” So, slightly melodramatic, I recognize. But it is 4:30 a.m. to me, and I’m in Africa.

On a practical note, I do have access to the Internet though it is slow and, I’m told, not always available. But I’ll keep posting as I can.

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