Walking the dog (a miniature Schnauzer named Buddy) down my tree-lined street, I thought
Everyone here has water inside the house. And electricity. And the children all go to school, immunized, dressed, shod.
This is the first world. It is safe on this tree-lined street. No one really worries about safety, at least not in a daily, chronic way.
Africa accompanies me.
I met a woman who lived in Mali many years ago, serving in the Peace Corps. She wrote a lovely/sad/hopeful book called “Monique and the Mango Rains” and she asked when I was going back to Africa. She said Africa stays with you, changes you.
I live in the first world, and most of the time I am oblivious to the priviledge. But sometimes, I remember, grateful and ashamed.