On our way to Ekwendeni, we phoned Dr. S, our physician-contact person (of last post's triumphant post-script). She informed us that there would be a vacant home for us to stay in that belonged to a doctor currently back in the States; we could stay there for a month until another doctor arrived. This would be better and cheaper than the planned Ekwendeni Guest House. Hello, this is Rebecca. We are now staying with a friend and will not need to stay in the Elwendeni Guest House. Thank you. Send message.
We arrived in Ekwendeni just as dusk was rolling in. I'm waiting for that dusk right now, sitting on the front stoop of the American doctor's home. Ekwendeni is built into a hill and less than six yards out from where I sit right now is a downward slope. Straight ahead of me, deep in the distance, are mountains. My landscape terms are escaping me at the moment (or, more likely, I just don't know any), but I feel like you'd term it a valley between me and these mountains in the distance. Maybe not. Let's go with valley for now. Immediately, I'm surrounded by wild green. There are birds chirping and bugs buzzing and leaves of every shade bristling quietly in the soft wind. The sun is setting to my right, and now that I'm listening more closely I think I hear singing or chanting or the laughter of children somewhere not that far off. Looking up, the sky is a light bright blue that becomes more pastel and ultimately a light orange pink by the time it meets those mountains-- the ones off in the distance, straight ahead.
I'm told I'm easily amused, but this is rather surreal.
When I return inside, I'll head towards the room Emily and I are staying in. For those yet to be informed, our room goes by another name, and that name is The Garage. We prioritized sharing a room, and by that I mean that when we first got here and I mildly panicked I decided and Emily agreed we'd share a room. I'd expand on that but why spoil the sunset with chatter about anxiety. There's beauty to enjoy.
Will write again soon,
Rebecca
We arrived in Ekwendeni just as dusk was rolling in. I'm waiting for that dusk right now, sitting on the front stoop of the American doctor's home. Ekwendeni is built into a hill and less than six yards out from where I sit right now is a downward slope. Straight ahead of me, deep in the distance, are mountains. My landscape terms are escaping me at the moment (or, more likely, I just don't know any), but I feel like you'd term it a valley between me and these mountains in the distance. Maybe not. Let's go with valley for now. Immediately, I'm surrounded by wild green. There are birds chirping and bugs buzzing and leaves of every shade bristling quietly in the soft wind. The sun is setting to my right, and now that I'm listening more closely I think I hear singing or chanting or the laughter of children somewhere not that far off. Looking up, the sky is a light bright blue that becomes more pastel and ultimately a light orange pink by the time it meets those mountains-- the ones off in the distance, straight ahead.
I'm told I'm easily amused, but this is rather surreal.
When I return inside, I'll head towards the room Emily and I are staying in. For those yet to be informed, our room goes by another name, and that name is The Garage. We prioritized sharing a room, and by that I mean that when we first got here and I mildly panicked I decided and Emily agreed we'd share a room. I'd expand on that but why spoil the sunset with chatter about anxiety. There's beauty to enjoy.
Will write again soon,
Rebecca
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