3 Sept 2011.

Spent exactly seven minutes stretching this morning – I wouldn’t call it yoga, but the two did share something in common. My not doing yoga here is part of the same silly small fears that I have about too many other things: when I don’t do it, my body gets out of practice, stiff, difficult. How can I start again when I’ve gotten so bad? What would be the point? Especially frustrating when the whole reason I love yoga and dancing is that it’s a low-stakes challenge. The sun does not rise and set on whether I can bind in Marichiasana D.

The past couple of days have actually been really positive. One day we had three great successes. First, a man in the villages said that he could tell we really care about ending guinea worm, because we’re actually coming out to the village regularly. Then, when looking for a new water source, a stream that had filled temporarily, a group of little boys took us out into the bush to show us where it was. Finally, on our way out, passing through another village, we stopped to talk to the elders. There were no requests for tobacco, clothes, food – one man just said, We’re glad you’re here. Head on out and keep doing this important work. I glowed.

Last night we came to one of my favorite villages, one that’s had three cases. The owner of the compound welcomed us, pulled aside the thorn fence so we could bring the vehicle inside, and shared a meal with us without saying a thing about medicine, tobacco, clothes, food. The kids played with me, us each imitating what we hear - them my English, me their Toposa. Kept us in stitches.

On my way back into the compound after taking a bit of a wee in the dark, one of the girls sprang out from behind the gate. YA! she shouted. I jumped a mile. We laughed and laughed, and then she pulled in the thorn gate and we went together to sleep a happy sleep.