I returned home on Wednesday. The saga of getting home does not really need to be repeated, but I will say that it took about 5 days of travel, interrupted with debriefings in Paris and NYC. Although I am glad to be home, my mind travels back to Sri Lanka regularly. There were many more experiences than I have had the opportunity to share. So I will continue to share, if you all are so kind enough to continue to read.
The soil in the Mullaitivu region was dry and red, clay and sand. Very little loam. It was very dusty, and the red dust permeated everything. Nevertheless, the people of the region always wore very colorful clothes, especially the women. They wore beautiful saris, and colorful punjabis. They were adorned with gold bangles, and necklaces. They wore silver anklets. They didn't seem to be touched by the dust.
I have been unpacking, and have noticed that the red dust is throughout my clothes and belongings. It colors my shirts and pants. And I am glad for it. Just seeing it brings back the sights, smells and sounds of a different country, living in a different time. Memories of a people in need. Memories of my colleagues and friends. I hope that no one can shake the dust from my feet.
The soil in the Mullaitivu region was dry and red, clay and sand. Very little loam. It was very dusty, and the red dust permeated everything. Nevertheless, the people of the region always wore very colorful clothes, especially the women. They wore beautiful saris, and colorful punjabis. They were adorned with gold bangles, and necklaces. They wore silver anklets. They didn't seem to be touched by the dust.
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| My little bicycle on the street |
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