I´m back in Norway, living here for the first time in a while without any actual plans of moving or traveling in the near future. I have many dreams. They will become plans. I just don´t like planning too far ahead.

There is a lot of things that makes being back weird; there´s a new shop on the corner, people have moved away, the place I used to live is now someone elses home. You can sometimes forget that time moves by even when you´re not there to witness it.

Most importantly; I have changed. How do you come back from a third world country, from working with sick people who have next to nothing, to a place where most people have way more than they need? A place where people can not feed their children; and the nurses hands out not only painkillers, but also porrige. Do I appreciate my luck of being born here more? Will peoples greed and the materialism discust me? Will I eventually forget what I have experienced and go back to my old life?

House in Gqebera township, 10/11-15

People always say that meeting less privileged people makes you think. Makes you reflect. But what good does my reflections do the HIV-positive mother of three, who lives in a shack, with dirt floors and no food? We have seen great projects and worked in institutions that helps hundreds every day. But then we left. We went home to our warm beds and more food than we could (and should) eat. We went home to a place where you can let your children play safely in the street. We went home to a place that the people we left behind only can dream of. Honestly, it makes me ashamed of how easy my life is.


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