A Dustland Fairytale...

Apologies for the long absence. I was on a whirlwind trip around the United States. It wasn't until I was sitting back in a hut in the middle of Sudan that I stopped and realised that I was - exactly 5 weeks later - back in the same hut I had been 5 weeks earlier. But the previous week I had been in DC, and the week before that Missouri, and the week before that San Diego, and before that Boston and before that Vermont.

So, needless to say, I was glad to be back on old terra firma even if it was the middle of nowhere with our Area Coordinator sitting on the airstrip watching the sun set and being watched by the local Nuer children.

A dust storm was sweeping across the savannah to the west and ash from the fires around drifted down on us like snow. It was nice to be back and dealing with concrete problems in life and not whether Obama's rhetoric would translate into some substantive policy or whether LL Bean is going to be bankrupted by bad Christmas sales. In those five weeks I found I just couldn't muster the energy to pretend that I cared. Give me a looming famine any day. There's something I can do about that.

Back to the Dustland Fairytale...

"I saw the devil wrapping up his hands
He's getting ready for the show down
I saw the ending when they turned the page
I threw my money and I ran away
Straight to the valley of the great divide

Out where the dreams all hide
Out were the wind don't blow
Out here the good girls die
And the sky won't snow
Out here the bird don't sing
Out here the field don't grow
Out here the bell don't ring
Out here the bell don't ring
Out here the good girls die

Now Cinderella don't you go to sleep
It's such a bitter form of refuge
Ahh don't you know the kingdoms under siege
And everybody needs you"