Time to go home. Complete the circle. New York – Sao Paulo – Jo’burg – Cape Town – Jo’burg – Dakar – Home.

No matter what treasures the rest of the world offers, it’s always good to go home.

The ordeal of flying: Time spent in airplane/airports this leg – 24 hours! Cape Town to New York City. 24 hours to get home. Strangest part of the trip was that 23 of the 24 hours were in darkness. We followed the sun, but never caught up until the end, the last hour, and the sun rose over NYC – hidden by the rain.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to get home…

Four movies later and 20 hours fighting a cramped airplane seat, we landed and I was home. Or was I?  Grabbed a cab from Kennedy.  7:00 am to 9:00 am – NYC Monday morning traffic in the rain. Two more hours to get home.

Carrying precious cargo: Pillowcases of maroon, yellow and black with elephants of purple and gold, silk scarves for Julia of zebra, lion, leopard to match her hair, hippopotamus sculpture of pale green soapstone that is pure pleasure just to hold the little fat fellow in your hand, carvings and masks in mahogany and ebony, sculptures in rich green verdite of lion and rhinoceros, and la crème de la crème – a serpentine rock sculpted by John Nyakusengwa from Bubi, Zimbabwe, the size of a football with elephant head emerging into life from within.

When I first saw it, I knew not what it was and moved on to others, but it drew me back again and again until I just had to have it – as each time the elephant further revealed itself within its hiding place in the stone.

Precious cargo. Gifts for loved ones who could not go. Memories of Africa. All in a suitcase stuffed with bubble wrap and prayers.

Trying to get it all home…

The worst part: A 3 hour layover in Jo’burg. So tired I could have slept on the floor, but what if I missed my call, missed my plane? Can’t read – just makes me sleepier, can’t walk, carry-ons too heavy, can’t eat, spent all my South African rand, and so I sit and watch the hours go by, minute by minute, going a little nuts.

Trying to get home…

Finally decide to practice what I preach. Consider Eckhart Tolle and The Power of Now. Then I’m all right. I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way home as I watch the beautiful people of Africa all heading off to places unknown.

Passing the time…

Trying to get home…

The best part: Playing “Peek-Around-The-Seat” with a 3 year old black African boy who was fascinated with the American in seat 54A. The game lasted intermittently for 20 hours. His sweetness and curiosity brought great joy to my going home.

With two rolling suitcases filled with precious cargo and recording equipment and two overstuffed carry-ons passing through customs unmolested, I grab a cab, fight the traffic, and then finally stand in the rain in front of my apartment building paying the cabbie, turn and walk through a busy Monday morning lobby. Then the elevator ride to the 38th floor. Then the long walk down the hall to my door. The walk, pulling my precious cargo, seemed to take as long as Cape Town to NYC.

A note on the front door: “It’s open. In the shower”

I clumsily manhandle my bags through the door, trying not to break something in these last 3 steps. The house is quiet. Only the sound of the shower.

“Honey, I’m home!”

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