Monday, March 15, 2010

Dear Mother Africa

Dear Mother Africa,

I am writing to you today with a heart that is at once hurting and happy, and a mind that is still at least a little bit unsure. For the past three years, our lives and hearts have been entangled as we shared in happiness, joy, sadness, frustration, loneliness, laughter, learning and love. We committed ourselves long ago to a life lived as one, and the time we have spent together has truly been a blessing. But after much questioning and careful contemplation, I have decided that the time for change has come. I am leaving you.

The standard line at a time like this is, "It's not you, it's me-- I am just not ready for a relationship right now. I need some time to be alone." But in this case, the truth is that it's both of us. Right now, I don't have the knowledge or experience that I need to help you and your extended family in a way that is sustainable, far-reaching, and real. And despite the wonderful experiences we have shared and the knowledge you have allowed me to gain, you are far too different than me in far too many ways for me to carry on living as your partner, lover and friend. I am sorry.

For those who know very little about you, the mentioning of your name evokes images of death, disease, poverty and powerlessness. But the privileged who have come to know you well, as I have, easily recognize that behind the sickness and worn clothing lies a woman that is incredibly kind and generous, and whose loving, lighthearted and undying spirit, visible in the harshest of environments and most trying of times, shines brighter than that of anyone I have ever met. Of the many things you have taught me, by far the most powerful and important is how to stay hopeful in conditions that are clearly desperate, remain resilient in the face of adversity that appears unbeatable, to laugh even when the hardships that invade every day of your life make you want to cry, and to have faith that life will one day be better. It will get better, I promise. Be patient.

Thank you, Mother Africa, for accepting me with your arms open wide, and for continually treating me with a level of kindness, generosity, and respect that now brings tears to my eyes. I will miss you dearly, but will return one day to see you again. Take care. Goodbye.