Red, White & Blue

The transition from South Africa to America has been hustlin’ me wit dat full court press. If you don’t understand basketball terms, basically, its been a little overwhelming. It took Mom and I two full days of layovers and flights to finally arrive at Minneapolis International Airport. Beyond exhaustion, I was running purely off excited anticipation of being home and seeing everyone. Walking quickly through the airport, my pack digging into my shoulders from carrying it for two days and feet swollen, I was ready for this reunion.

Little sleep in Paris

I think I’m becoming an adrenaline junky because coming down the escalator to where my family stood gave me the same feeling I had when bungee jumping, or reaching for a dicey clip on a climbing route- it gives me a rush and I love it! I felt like I was watching the reunion with my brother, sister and Dad through a screen, instead of actually being there. Staring at them, I kept saying, “This is real life, guys, this is real life”. We went to a Mexican restaurant (which I really did miss Mexican food) where there was a huge surprise waiting for me.

 

Teeeeej my brother

Upon walking into the restaurant, I noticed a group standing in front of us that were exceptionally awkward. There were six of them standing/sitting in complete silence and most of them were looking at the ground. The one of them slowly turned, with a big grin on her face. It was a group of my very good friends from Mankato. Once I recognized her, they all looked up and I went crazy hugging each of them over and over again.

The last couple of days have been filled with reunions. It feels like the past 5 months were just a dream, I can’t believe that actually happened. Observing this organization, getting accustomed to the Xhosa culture, being the minority, and relying on God to provide will all be experiences that will pop up in my future. A lifetime in school couldn’t teach me what South Africa has taught me. Even though I’m happy to be home safe, I miss riding in the back of a bakkie (truck), living simply and being able to walk outside to a bunch of African children laughing and playing.

Grandpa Gordy and I

I promised some friends from South Africa that after my travels home, I would continue to write about America. Some people are under the notion that Beyonce and Lil Wayne are my neighbors and yellow taxis swarm the streets. Well, maybe in New York, but Minnesota is a verrrrry different story. So here I will continue to write as often as possible about life in Minnesota!

Love to all!

Minnesota River