Friday, April 18, 2008

Arriving Home

After speaking with Charles out on the porch tonight admidst the stars and the waxing moon shining overhead, I began to understand why, even as a refugee, he did not want to return to the Congo. He explained to me that he could not even express the things he felt whenever he thought of Moba; I could see the enormous pain, anger, and frustration in his eyes as he momentarily relived the events which had brought him here. That place, which was once filled with memories of youth and prosperity, could no longer rightly be called home, for 'home' is a place of comfort -- a place of refuge, so to say.

We have spent the last month talking about the past, the future, our dreams, frustrations, our realities. For the past weeks since I have arrived at Kala Camp, in these discussions over the warm coal fire, I have also taken refuge, away from troubling thoughts and anxieties.

Whenever I awake in the morning to find the smoke of the smouldering coals glowing only dimly under a thick blanket of ash, I feel the fire continuing to burn brightly in me. It is with this fire that I am able to light the coals night after night, as darkness falls, and I seek the refuge of warmth once more.


It is this fire that compels me to continue on this journey, seeking to understand my world.

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