Last night was spent at the house of some of the locals we befriended. We ate, drank, slept and after we woke up, S. and I went to buy some water. We would only have had to go to the shop next door, but ended up wandering along the street for a long time. The house was situated on a street but resembles a little village with shops lining the main street. We passed a stand selling oranges, bought one, got it peeled and sat down on the dusty steps in front of one of the shops. Today was Eid, the festival that is celebrated at the end of Ramadan. More people than I’ve seen in weeks were out in the streets, wearing their best clothes. And while we were sitting there, munching on our oranges and letting the sun shine on our faces, I was overcome by an intense feeling of contentment. This was right. This felt right. I felt like I belonged here. I belonged on this dusty street with my old clothes and holes in my shoes.
We moved on and tried to get some Chai and Chapati for breakfast – a task that turned out to be harder than imagined. When we finally sat down with both, the tea and the Chapati, we felt accomplished. We’re trying our best, and it’s often frustrating, often hard, but simple moments like this morning make it all worthwhile.