Hmmm … How to start today my friends,

It is 8:55am on Sunday September 7th 2014 and I am sat at the dining room table in my son and daughter in law’s beautiful, open plan and very Nordic lounge cum kitchen cum dining room with my trusty laptop parked in pole position by the window. I look out on a cloudy grey sky and tree tops swaying in the wind. To access this paradise you mount 85 stone steps of varying depths, the houses here are elevated up into the hillside making his street or road a vertical one. They chooses to live in the last house but one and I love it. The mountains that ring Bergen are on the horizon and a lake ringed by green parks and woods lays below across a road that in no way resembles any road off the main Arusha to Moshi highway back …? Back home.

My two beautiful grandsons sit amiably at opposite ends of the sofa, smart phones, X Box something or other and Netflix movies amusing them as they allow GranGill to work. My granddaughter is still dozing languidly in her room downstairs, cuddled into her duvet with One Direction, ……. looking down from the walls. Her iPad is no doubt tucked in the bed with her as is Lily, the smaller of the two house cats that share my son’s palace with his wonderful family.

I left home in Moshi, Tanzania on Wednesday last amidst an amazing send off and heartfelt messages of we will miss you, come back and I caught the 8:45pm flight from Kilimanjaro to Amsterdam via Dar es Salaam. I spent two hectic days in London, literally bouncing backwards and forwards on tube trains and buses from NW3 to SW10 and all the places in the middle. As I moved amongst the waves of people I felt an internal unease, not fear, unease. No one looked around, everyone was linked to a device of some sort, smiles were reserved for the secret whisperers who sent messages direct to their brains via the receptacles in their ears. I stood at the base of the escalator at Victoria Station and closed my eyes focusing on the hustle and bustle surrounding the bus standi in Moshi, the constant calls of “Mzungi, come here, I take you,” the shikamoo’s and jambo’s, the laughing smiling faces, the stern ‘don’t you mess with me boyo,’ countenance of the large Mamas in their colourful African ensembles always topped with matching head gear. I felt physically dizzy with the enormity of life’s contrasts.

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We have spoken of this back in TZ many times, I have always said no one addresses the re-entry issues of a volunteer returning home after a period of life changing experience in any poverty stricken country. I have tremendous admiration for the people I have met that are giving up a period of their life to come and try to help make a difference and I know that no matter how short or how long their stay is the experience will impact on their lives and they will have issues on return to “normal life”.

It is true, life’s contrast are stark and a little frightening.

I have to leave you now as I have three little peope who want their GranGill to stop working!

PS I have to take a few moment to say a massive thank you to each and everyone of you that liked, shared, tweeted, talked about or commented on Break the Silence. My posting of this important petition sign here came a difficult time as my entire focus was on my trip and the emotional tugs that causes. I so need to be here and yet miss the kids of Good Hope and my new life too. I have not had time to visit every like and say a personal thanks so I issue a very shabby second best thanks here. If you have not signed the petition please please do.

Is there any person visiting here that agrees that a proven paedophile or rapist should go unchallenged?

No?

I thought not.

Please sign now

 

 

 

 

 

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