A Sunday in Malawi.

I am beginning to love Sundays. Or maybe Sundays are beginning to court me. They are quiet, with birds chirping, and my heart beating slowly.

I want to have a Sunday like this in Malawi. In a quiet place somewhere. Most probably in a village. Writing for environmenToday.

On that day, I hope i’ll have stopped worrying about life. About my finances to be specific. About my future. About my emotional state.

I hope i’ll have learnt something new about the culture of that place. Their God, their environment, their mannerisms, what makes them tick, why they behave the way the do, who hurt them and their aspirations.

On that Sunday, I hope to be alone on a hill somewhere sunny but windy in a not so strong way, taking in my experience of being in this country that I always mentioned before Congo got the better of me. I want to have found a home there. A home that accepts me as I am, that adores me, that teaches me and that accepts me to improve how things work .

I hope I’ll have found kind souls that are as clear as that river we had when I was young. People who by being themselves, they take you back into you who you are truly supposed to be.

I hope that seated up there observing life going on, that I shall be content and ambitious. Content with how life has not only granted me the things I wanted, which when I wanted them I thought they were really huge and kinda hard to achieve, but has also granted me more bigger things that I had ever dreamt of.

And I hope that seated there with a notebook and a drink of my choice, that I’ll carry forward my habit of dreaming again. Of thinking again like i’m doing right now of a day into the future and what would be my aspirations for it.

I hope to listen to my heart. And want whatever it is that I want. Because life has taught me to want things. They do come to pass in the most unexpected of ways at some point.

I hope to take a selfie or whatever technology I’ll be using then. To remind me of dreams come true and jolt me into the new terrifying dreams that I’ll have jotted down.

I hope that seated there my heart will be full to the brim. Full of love, both received and given. Full of joy, as a state of life not this rare gift I know it to be as of now. Full of contentment and fulfillment for the life lived, the daring steps taken, the moves I did when trembling but they turned out way more amazing, the articles I enjoyed writing, the work that grew me as I did it, the laughter with colleagues and friends, the orgasms with loved ones, the calls with my brother, the things I built from ground up, the awards I’ve gotten and the learning I’ve done to that point.

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