I am standing on top of the highest hill on the great plains of the Tankwa Karoo. I just scrambled up here with my 80 year old uncle, a farmer in Africa, to whom this place belongs. He is a shepherd of the soil and knows every little bush on this stretch of land, every reptile, every bird. The drought has lasted more than 4 years. He loves every plant and rock and breath he takes in the clear sky and crisp air that surrounds us. I turn around 360 degrees, feeling the sun on my face, the slight breeze on my back, breathing in the immense distances around us, feeling absolute joy in the moment, gladness for being here, and hope for the future that awaits. Next week I am packing up and returning to America where a new job at Stanford University – and a reconnection with my family – is waiting. But now it is just me and the sun, the space and silence. No place can be as quiet as the Tankwa Karoo, where space and the required social distancing between people is always more than 6 feet… mostly 6 miles… or more. But where hearts reach out and embrace each other. Where caring and sharing reach beyond space and time.
Now the world has been caught up in a terrifying invasion – suspended in action and distrust and anxiety. Here there is no longing and no fear. Life is ancient, confined, and also limitless. Like the distance and the silence. Unchanging.
We do not talk a lot. Words are often unneeded when kindred spirits unite. Is blood thicker than water? I left my loved ones to fulfill a mission in Africa. I reconnected, reached out, faced immense hardships. And endured. I did overcome.
I am returning.
But for now… JOY. Just joy.
And peace.