Wednesday, 11 April 2012
Shalom! Feels like it's been a while since I've had a brain-heart-vent so I'm feeling pretty stoked to be sitting here, on my bed, pizza in hand, ready for another Mali blog! :D
I was thinking about the last few months and how really there's only one word to describe them...wud.
'Wud' is a Scottish word that means mad I'm told...hopefully my sources are correct and I haven't just offended anyone.
But seriously it is the only way to try and say what has happened since December last year.
I remember getting home from Mali and lying in my bed that night. I couldn't stop looking at the amount of stuff in my bedroom, the stereo, the painting of a country road, my set of drawers, even the fairy-lights...I sat there in a space of disbelief that I had just come back from Mali, where I knew that night, Donki would be sleeping on a mat on the floor of her mud-hut while I was tucked up in my kiwi bed.
The next week was a weird one... I became a total hermit. It was a week where I had this massive blob of experiences in my head and I was just starting to unravel them like a ball of yarn. It sounds strange, but I was completely overwhelmed by this daunting feeling. In the eight days I'd spent in Mali I'd met so many people whose stories I knew I was there to hear, so that I could go home, share these stories and then, hopefully, change their situation. Katie and I talked about it heaps - we wanted to do the people in Mali proud, with everything we said and every action we took. It seemed like we were walking on a tight-rope and couldn't put one foot wrong otherwise we'd fall and fail.
At that time I had a couple of sweet face-slap moments from Mum (not literally) and realized it was silly to think about all the things I could fail at (A LOT), but instead just do all the things I can... but also, not to take it all on my shoulders.
And FARR OUT it has been insane from there. The experiences from Mali have sunk in and are changing me, and I talk about Mali till my mouth gets tired and stiff (I'm a little obsessed).
It's crazy thinking that in year ten I quit playing the saxophone because I hated performing solos that much. I'd get picked to play an improvisation and would stand up awkwardly, legs like jelly, going rapidly more red as the song went on and on, hating my conductor (sorry Nevil) for picking me...crowds are scary! Yet today, I just got home from the most amazing Easter Camp where I spoke in front of 4500 kiwi Youth about Mali and the 40 hour famine. I kid you not I thought I would poo myself on stage, till I actually got up there and shared what has been on my heart.
Now it's not Mali that makes me feel daunted, but it's actually Mali that allows me to get past my nerves and say what needs to be said and changed...because it NEEDS to be said and changed, and we're the ones to do it youth of NZ! :)