To Africa, with love

One of my favorite things about my body is the fact that I am a chameleon. In the winter, I become pasty, white, which does mean that I look great with blush. But in the summer, with even 10 minutes in the sun, I turn olive again, and my freckles pop up.

Everyone seems to try to hide their freckles. And, with an olive complexion you wouldn't think that I would have freckles. But I do. I have them all over my arms and my face, and pretty much everywhere. And I love them. 

I love them because each freckle tells a story. A few of them are from great memories of being little--those days at the water parks, or the days of running around with my friend, playing in the sun. 

But most of them come from happy memories in Africa. Little brown specks of sunshine that permeated my skin. 

They are from the day that I spent sun-bathing with my best friend at Kingfisher.

They are from the time I spent with another best friend writing stories on "Monkey Hill". And yes, we watched the monkeys on Monkey Hill.

They are from hours spent at events in the sunshine, long after the sun-screen wore off.

They are from the days when I just sat in the sunshine, and let it carry away my worries.

They are from the hours I spent with my gang of friends knocking mangoes out of a tree.

Each freckle tells a story, and each story adds to the awesomeness that is my life.

I love when my freckles come out again, because I can see that though I left Africa, Africa never left me. And it never will. 

Just like I am physically a bit of a chameleon... I am culturally a chameleon. Yeah, I can keep up with the modern pop music, and I can name most 80's groups, but I also know the names of Ugandan instruments and how to play some of them.

I change with each passing season, but one thing remains true. My life in Africa is a part of me, and I will always treasure that. 

I know what it's like to live with riots, and I know what it's like to live a life of travel. These are the things I treasure. My unseen freckles--the ones that hide in my spirit, remind me that I always have a part of my heart in Africa.

They are from the day that I painted one of my greatest friend's nails--the first time she had ever experienced nail polish.

They are from learning at the feet of an 84 year old missionary who worked with, taught, and loved Uganda's children.

They are from learning the hard way that you can't always save the people you love.

And they are from all of the joyous days that I spent learning, leaping, living.

First Christmas in Uganda... boat ride at the source of the Nile
with missionary friends!

My mom and I in our traditional dresses
Thank you to Susan for the graduation present
of sending me back with my Mushanana!

One of the only "tourist life" days--quadbiking and turning dust
to mud with our sweaty faces around the Nile. Maybe some freckles
are left over mud in my pores?! Haha!

To Africa:
Thank you for enriching my life. Thank you for leaving a whole in my heart. I will be back some day.

Thank you for the smiles and the laughter. Thank you for the beauty and the life that infiltrated my pasty skin.

Thank you for the joy that never leaves me.

With love,
Alyssa