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Highlights of Sodwana Bay, off the Indian Ocean below Mozambique, from this past weekend:

*snorkeling through the dense crowds of angelfish that swarmed around our arms, the needlenosed fish flashed by just below the silvery surface. It's incredible how they never actually touch your skin, despite the constant tossing of the waves. Little silent hurricanes. Life seems safer without gravity,

*the sights en route to the coast: trees that were pale green all over, even the trunks, that oozed thick red sap.

*the families of squirrel monkeys that ran over the roof at night. We slept in a safari tent at a diving lodge in the park, that was blissfully warm,

*resting in the cleavage between sand dunes

*a fist-sized beetle that moved like a wind-up toy

*the baby pineapples carved to eat like ice cream cones by the little girl at the market with the big machete

*the three missed calls from worried friends

*ending each day completely clean and peaceful, and feeling as weightless as those fish...


Sitting on the back porch with my old lady Friedland and a one-eyed tabby in the afternoon sun...only one day has been without sun since we've been here, that being the disastrous day in the taxi full of very sick people. I realized that yesterday, sitting with D., who noted we'd be leaving in a month. There is still so much to cover, to make the whole picture clear enough to anyone who hasn't been reading the blog (naughty naughty). The roads that we travel every day, the in-between scenes footage that fills in so much in a glimpse...what else makes you remember a place? I dream of bike rides home, old sweaters and jeans that I've owned, certain tastes of one time and place.

This morning there was a ceremony of gratitude for M., who has stopped coughing but still finds it hard to wake up. Her mattress was carried into the rondavel hut by members of her congregation, all dressed in royal blue and white. Four pastors directed the service, with friends speaking up on her behalf. She awoke partway through, and was able to eat for a few minutes afterwards, when we all received big plates of chicken, rice, and boiled bread with cups of corn pudding. Sarah and I feel like we're training to do competitive eating; we'll be coming back with a lot more of us to love.

It was a beautiful ceremony, and we mutually thanked one another. One pastor said we must stay, because there is a lot of help needed here. It's really the Home Based Carers who do the hardest work, traveling miles on foot through rivers and up mountains to help the most isolated people. If a fleet of 10 vehicles (and unlimited petrol...) were supplied, I have no doubt that these women could help thousands more. It's hard to convey to M. and her family how equally important the job that she is doing for us (being filmed is a big commitment), and what we hope it will do in the long run...

& photos of our jungle friend, and painting M.'s rondavel with red clay and water...