2 May 2008 - A little hardened?

My dad and some friends join us in Lusaka on the 25th. They will be sharing the cycling and driving and escorting us back to the Burra with the trusty green Landrover – a vehicle that has earned a place in our family, a little higher in ranking than the kids. But just after the dogs. I am so excited for them to join us. They will be bringing many home comforts but also just the familiarity of people who know me beyond this trip. It will be awesome.

I must also admit that I am a little anxious though. This has become my world, a world that although tough has become comfortable and familiar. It is a world that has dramatically impacted the way I see my life and the places that we have passed through. I believe that I have become a little more pragmatic about the way the third world works and more comfortable with my place in it. That’s not to say that I have become pessimistic about everything, just more cynical and critical of certain areas of development and cultures. I’m rambling, but I believe this trip has significantly altered my impressions and my future. Now add people that mean the world to me into the equation and I suppose I am nervous that they don’t find it as incredible and therefore undermine its power on me. I shouldn’t be concerned – but their opinion is so important. I feel like I have just spent the last four months working on an oil painting and now it faces a critical appraisal – the view becomes almost personal!

But wow – with my dad and his landrover come a freezer, a gas stove, and a whole heap of comforts that seem pretty luxurious right now. To be able to get a cold coke! There is also much banter about whether or not the team will lose their panniers. What is amusing is that if one team member decides to keep their panniers on the bike… it is very likely that pride will not permit anyone else to surrender. Interesting. My bag is currently falling apart, is covered in masking tape and blue plastic packets in a poor attempt at waterproofing, and may not make Cape Town… its early departure may be welcomed, but there is something about cycling into Cape Town carrying the same kit that we left Cairo with 6 months previously.

I am sitting on the beach with the morning wind coming off the water. A woman walks up to me and says hello. She walks a little closer, and then sheepishly crouches down and in an almost embarrassed, low tone says, "Give me my money," to which I reply, "No."
She asks, "No?"
I confirm this and she wanders down the beach. I am white and therefore a wealthy benefactor that one needs to ask for money. Before coming on this trip I struggled to say no. I struggled to look someone in their eye, face their need, and still say no. I don’t think I feel any less, I like to think that I have chosen my battles and have accepted that there will be some that I cannot assist. Perhaps this is simply a way to justify my actions to my conscience, but when you live in the third world and are faced with need daily, you need a defence. This is mine.

But as she walks away, I acknowledge that I am a little hardened.