dawn hasn't left my hands as soft as it promised

it's not that i mind washing dishes by hand so terribly. actually, washing dishes by hand brings back memories--mostly really good ones!--of being in the kitchen with my siblings, cleaning up after dinner. or standing in the assembly line at my grandmother's waiting for each dish to dry thoroughly and put up on the shelf--wringing out the towel when it got too wet (just like in Africa...............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................)

anyway.
so obviously, it's not that. AND i even went back to an old 10,000 Homes creative prayer action and prayed for the care center being built in kabokweni while i washed and dried. so it also wasn't a waste of time.

but what DO i mind? thank you for asking (even if your request did sound a little like "get on with it, already!"). i mind very much that after spending the time to load up the dishwasher, when i open it again, all the time and water spent did nothing but throw flecks of food up into the cups on the top rack and then go the extra mile to bake them in during the dry cycle. then, i handle the dirty dishes for a second time, scrubbing harder than ever to get the crusted mess off of each piece. (or, there's always the ever-popular method of denial in which you just run them again and again until you can't lie to yourself anymore).

what good is technology anyway? what's the point of owning a dishwasher when you have to rinse each dish thoroughly (basically "washing" without the whole soap element) before putting it into the machine to get...washed?

makes me feel not-so-bad about skipping the extra step, and the frustration, by just going straight to handwashing.

washing dishes can be a real communal thing. who started this whole rushing-through-life thing, anyway? didn't meals used to be a whole community process, from start to finish? my family did it that way when i was a kid, and we sat around one long table ("halllllooooooo down there.....can you pass the butttttteeeeeerrrrr?????"--there were 12 of us, okay?) and talked and laughed. even after-dinner chores must not have been so bad, since all i can remember about it was flicking each other with wickedly wet hand-towels, and soaking up to our elbows in soapy water while we chatted away (i always liked the role of putting the food away...i just liked condensing things into small, neat containers and storing it away to be opened again later like a little present).

in Africa, mikey and i went back to these...roots(?) when we would gather in the cold kitchen with hayley and manga, inventory our food and then throw something together. the point was not really the dish itself. it was the cleaning, chopping, cooking, setting-the-table, eating, washing up and especially--perhaps entirely--what happened among us during all of that which was the entire purpose of the act.

i just heard from an Africa-friend today and i find myself overwhelmingly eager to reply immediately, though i don't even know what to say. its a conversation i am thirsty for. talking with her reminds me of being there. talking with her taps into this secret part of me--the Africa part that only a few people know about. when she writes to me, it is with such affection in her beautiful, unveiled voice of pure self, inviting me into her life, that i am compelled to accept and walk forward.

sometimes i ache for Africa with such a physical ache. it throbs and reminds me with each pulse how empty that part of me is...the Africa part...the part that can only be filled with Africa's crisp winter air and open skies and rich colors. the part that can only be filled with the faces of Africa. Manga and Hayley and Amanda and Carla and Ryan and John and Rae and Elizabeth. sometimes i don't think it will ever stop hurting.