I came home with three hundred pounds of clanging baggage. I sat on the airplane an felt weird not inviting my neighbor to my sterilized miniature meal, but hers was identical and she would have been weird-ed out. I cant sleep on planes so I looked out the window and thought about how small the world is to me and how big it is to everyone in Ouaga, and how the moment I stepped off the last plane it would all feel like a dream.
After international layovers and three airplanes, my mom met me at the airport and I was elated to see her. I was pretty much buzzing, and we slept in a hotel while I chatted incessantly about my experience, and then drilled her on US presidential candidates and life on the island and life for her. I didn’t really get to blown away by culture shock, except for a gawking walk around Safeway. Mountains of impersonal plastic food, vegetables who have had any living history scrubbed and sterilized away from them, meat that looks like it was created pink as a baby in a plastic tray, and has never been related in anyway to something that had hair and pooped and made noise.
We got to the island mid morning, and I unpacked my piles of sculptures. Lots of them aren’t really finished, I am really looking forward to adding to them with other mixed media materials. But nothing is broken and it all looks good lying on the table, my litter of babies. I dont want to leave home for a while. Most of the last year and a half living in West Africa has satiated my need for adventure for at least a while. Now I am really looking forward to building a bronze forge here!!!