Winds of Change — A Zambia Log

I was going to feature a different post from my good friend Maddie’s blog, prefacing it with some comparisons of Northwest Province and Southern Province, but I saw this post and my heart sank and I knew I had to post this instead.

Maybe because I’m still trying to process the horror of Charlottsville, Virginia and what’s happening to my homeland from a continent away. Maybe it’s because, for the first time in my life, I’m questioning if America has a place for me anymore. Maybe it’s because, when a tourist couple approached me on a recent vacation and told me how self-sacrificing it was to live in such “primitive” conditions, I just smiled and didn’t say anything. Maybe it’s that I’ve tried to write several posts about the dire situation of climate change, particularly where I live, and have deleted them all after realizing that most people will stop reading after the first couple sentences when they realize it’s not a funny post or doesn’t have pictures. Maybe it’s all of those things, maybe it’s none of those things, and maybe it’s this and more.

I’m feeling a lot of stuff right now. But I’m reading this and my gut twists and I know for sure that I at least have to share, and maybe get off my ass at some point and finally make that post.

I’m waiting for the weight of my confessions to sink in. I think secretly I was hoping baTaata would burst into a fit of rage directed toward me, or transform into a superhero political activist peasant and fly to kick in the door of some executive offices somewhere.
But for a few paces my eager ears met only the sound of his lanky-legged footsteps on the sandy path. Then he just said calmly: “Yes, Maddie. I think you are very observant. Please, please try to tell them.”

via Winds of Change — A Zambia Log

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