As it happened I avantualy became a aid worker, started XY years ago. Not sure if it was a coincidence, part of hidden 5th element, or maybe this small boy I used to was had this flaw of nomad gene since the beginning. As Robyn Davidson said “there are new kinds of nomads, not people who are at home everywhere, but who are at home nowhere.” And I’m still one of them too.
It took me a good while to finally put my stuff in writing. Still not sure if it was good idea. Perhaps nomadism is a curse and every single nomad is subconsciously searching for a piece of settlement. Maybe my journal is one of this act. Anyway, whichever part of my soul truly wanted this slice of writing, it finally happened.
Whatever you will find here is part of my healing process. I’m cooking my anger, frustration, failures which sticked in my stomach and paralysed me. No, I’m not thinking of get rid of them, I’m cooking them, “like potatoes—it needs to be cooked. In the beginning it is raw. You cannot eat raw potatoes. Your anger is very difficult to enjoy, but if you know how to take care of it, to cook it, then the negative energy of your anger will become the positive energy of understanding and compassion.” [Alessandra Pigini] Maybe my cooking will transform the garbage of some of my anger into something positive.
Be careful reading my words, I do harm right and left and the boy on the photo is not sad. I made him to be said, waiting enough seconds to capture the good moment. He was happy splashing the water around him, but I wanted to conjure reality. That’s what expats aid workers usually do.