I slept last night in our host's village. It's more village than most mzungos ever get. It was a bit like camping, but people do it everyday all the time. I am awfully emotionally affected by the whole ordeal. They sang songs of thanks and praise to God for their blessings, and they have so little, I would say nothing but their relationships are certainly not nothing. It is a hard life.
They sang and danced as hungry shoeless kids watched the rich people, us. By the way that is toilet paper around the poles going to the refugee tarps, which you can buy in the markets.
It is different. It wore me down. It doesn't feel like a vacation. However, the experience renews my resolve to make a difference and be excellent in everything I do. With great wealth comes great responsibility.