One minute to laugh, and hour to weep. See you later ZIm

My last day in the city of Kings, Bulawayo, was interesting to say the least. There were new Americans in the city to promote a film workshop. I met the guy hosting the events and his name was M.K. Ashante or something like that. I met him and he reminded me of my first roomate at RISD Dustin Boltin in terms of looks. From the minute I met him I admit I had an uneasy feeling and truth be told we had a respectful but aggravated debate about Art and the positions of Blacks in the Arts. At this point in the journey I am too tired to really go into funny detail of what transpired during our talk. I admire his accomplishments and understand the importance to pat the black man on back, given the current status in the US, when they accomplish great things, but I really couldn't stand the guy's views. As a person he seemed cool, just misinformed on so many levels I had to contain myself at times. I also met one of his subjects from one of his films. Her name was Rocky. She was cool, and I like her alot, despite the obnoxiousness that is a rowdy American girl seeping through her skin. After people in the Gallery observed them two they came back to me and asked me why was it I am so not-American? I guess there is a stereotype and the two new guys fit it, but I feel as though I am just as American as they are. Americans aren't all loud, obnoxious, and demanding of respect. I spent the day removing my artwork from the gallery and wrapping it up getting ready for my trip back home. As I was removing the works, the gallery guys started hanging up new work. Just like that I became a memory, and wasn't the hot topic. There are new Americans to replace me, and the attention I had been getting, and now new Art. Talk about low! Later that evening the Artists held a BBQ for me and it was amazing. Good times indeed while danced, and yeah the boy was asked to rap so he had to give the people of Zim a little swagg. We then took it further to the club, and I have to say i got my revenge on the dance floor. I actually decided to bring in some old school Miami dance moves and started bopping and Jooking. The crowd went crazy!!!! One girl walked over to me to dance with me and her and her girlfriends kepting telling me "Wow you're good". We rolled 10 deep and took over the dance floor. The artist took over Savanahs in Bulawayo, and it will be remembered forever. My studio mate Taffe(Sp_ gave me his dread wrap and told me to keep it. the night was just about partying but I slowly started realizing the end is near. The night ended with me hanging out with an artist. Her name was Musa. We had a long conversation about religion, relationships, and life in general and I ended up walking her home at 5am in the morning because I did not want her to sleep over. While walking back (25 minutes each way) the sun came up, and I realized it was finally over. I packed my things and Clifford and I rode out to Chipangali national orphanage for wild animals. I finally saw the Lions. It was the icing on the cake as I have hunting for one. Some were very sick and small looking, but at some point we got a pen where there were lions who were so big and just muscular it blew me away. Even caged they demanded respect. I was not even inches away from them and they were freakishly intimidating. We saw leopards as well and what scared Cliff and I the most was the fact that they blended in so well with the habitat. It always took us a couple seconds to a minute to find one that was literally 2 steps away from us. There were snakes as well. I saw the kobe the black mamba and those things are fucking scary. I love snakes and the black mamba is fucking scary. That is all you need to know. We raced out of Chipangali, and headed for the Lodge to say goodbye, and pick up things then to the gallery to patch somethings up. On the drive to the airport Clifford and I barely spoke. Somehow I had so many things on my mind I could barely speak. My emotions started to clamp my heart and squeeze tightly. it was not a figment of my imagination I am leaving Africa. Why does it feel so wrong? We arrived at the Airport and I Clifford and I exchanged goodbye hugs. As I saw him walk away I my mind went crazy and the reality came to me. I'm leaving Africa. In the less than a blink of a memory I am sitting in the Virgin Atlantic lounge again in Johannesburg being catered to and it doesn't matter to me. I'm finally going back home and yet I feel like crying like a baby. Why does it feel like I'm leaving home and not going back home? I can barely eat. My mood and emotions are just mixed and right now I have never felt so lost. For the past three weeks I have spent the whole day with one guide. He was my eyes so to speak. I have met women and seen women that change the way I think about women. I have had a woman do my laundry, and feed me for past three weeks. Her name was Grace. Why is my heart pregnant with this feeling of sadness? I feel like something has been ripped from me. I have learned a lot from my experience, and can tell life isn't going to be easy to adjust to in the states after this. I am drinking a drink and it reminds me of Kayla for some reason. I don't know why but it does. I got little gifts for the people back in the states, and hopefully they will like them. I am going to digitally retreat for now, and deal with these feelings as they come. People who are reading this blog are to be thanked. You guys are my half therapists. You read but don't talk back. Just the way I like it.