The first thing is the heat. Followed by the smells. Breathing in the African air, the warmth and depth of a myriad of harmoniously clashing scents. It feels like coming home.
Zimbabwe has a rich and complicated history, but as Chigumadzi writes, there is an opportunity to listen to the ancestors, that these bones will rise again. There is hope for Zimbabwe, it nearly died, it has been close to death, but my hope and prayer is that a day is coming when its health will return and a resurrected Zimbabwe will emerge.
As I travel I am more than aware of my privilege as a white male with a British passport. I hope I learn some lessons and meet some people that will allow me to make a difference. I hope I am able to use my undeserved privilege for something worthwhile for others.