finding home in limboland... al motar inharda

We mingle in the half-dream quiet of a midnight airport
I am everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Egypt seems intangible in this exhausted waiting…
Have I always been here or have I yet to arrive?

A stream of Sudanese women shuffle by
and a pang of longing passes through me unanticipated…
(wishing sub-Saharan Africa to be home again…
to work more directly with those suffering from conflict.)
Patience… peace… all in good time…

Half-formed questions swirl in the internal fog:
What have l learned from my months in Egypt?
How am I changing?
How will this be…
Will visiting ‘home’ trigger startling readjustments,
incessant shivering, criticisms of a country that has so much together?
Or have years as a global citizen prepared me for this brief reentry?
Will I be ready to return to Egypt?
How will the pollution be in the heat?
Can I handle more of the harassment with patience and grace?
… where is my home?

Thoughts drift to the people I carry with me to my family:
The hair dressers, carpenters, automotive repairmen and apprentices in Doweika,
Friends who send their greetings, coworkers continuing in our programming.
How do I choose which stories to share?
What new stories await my return to this desert land?

A few hours later: another airport, a beautiful new blend of people.
Beside me an Indian mother and babe cuddle in the lounge.
Ama sleeps soundly until her baby stirs… innately responding to her daughter’s need.
She smiles from her colourful cottons as she feeds the little one…
the satisfied pair returning to a serene slumber.
Where are they coming from? Where is their journey carrying them?
What stories lie beneath Ama’s heartfelt smile?
I send them love for the journey
And gratitude for the ‘home’ we have shared in this moment.

Finally, a third continent, a third airport, a third set of stories…
this time from Iran.
Separate encounters:
a devoted father commuting to support his family,
a strong woman returning from a visit with her sick mother,
sharing pieces of our lives in Canada and the Middle East.
I wonder at the comfort I feel with these people,
and later at my happiness to hear airport staff speaking Egyptian Arabic waiting for my bags…
My family is growing with each new journey.

For a wandering soul home is not a place… it is the sense of inner peace that fills us when we share love.
It is in relationships that ground us, experiences that nurture us.
Our quest is to find home wherever we are and to build mansions large enough for all the human family.

(written en route to Canada March 11, 08)