The circle

As I sit here and peer through the small window that looks out on the field beside our house I realize that we have come full circle, the grasses now drying back, the earth parched beneath, the vivid greens of the rainy season well past to be replaced with the dust and sand once more. The mango tree is fruiting, not quite big enough or ripe enough but promises a good crop in the upcoming months.



It’s our last day on the island, this beautiful, friendly special place in the middle of the river and I’m glad we made it through to the end. There were undeniably moments when I so wanted to be back home, to hug my children or have a bath or need a jumper but they are already beginning to fade into the background as the prospect of leaving tomorrow looms like a multicoloured cloud of emotions.


It’s been a year of contrast and excitement, physical and mental challenges and extreme highs and lows. The reason for us being here has, at times, fallen into question but my thoughts on that too have come full circle, past the arc of ‘we should have just sent the money’, and, although the bar of achievement is very very low, I think both Bakary and I have somehow managed to stumble our way across to the finish line with the tiniest of tangible improvement. This, I am told, is the very best that we could hope to achieve in such a small time, the small drips from each volunteers’ input eventually forming a small rivulet and then into a stream which, in turn, affects change.


So I shall turn to packing up our wee home, deciding if there is anything worth returning and remove our batiks from the wall with mixed feelings before venturing out for our ‘programme’, the party that marks our farewell from the island and the beginning of our journey back to the UK.