Well, there has to be a last blog. I am back in Dublin where the day is a short tunnel of grey rain which I run through in an attempt to keep warm. Grey but not depressing because the light, when it comes, is white and clear beyond belief. Rinsed and clean, from a low sun we never see, it suffuses the cloud and expands to a great size forcing a white space and holding up the sky. Coming from the end of the street or from the sea it washes everything in subtle tones so the world is like a pigeon's plumage, holding colour inside grey. And the rainbow, when it comes, is such an intensity of colour that I love the implacable density of the grey sky that hosts it. The grey sky that closes in and then it is night again.


I know I have been in Tanzania because my arms and legs (if I was to peel back my long underwear and catch a glimpse of them) are still brown from the sun but the sun tan and mosquito bites are strangely out of place here and anyway are tinged with blue from the cold.


I have lived through the waves of grief that went through me on the journey home and I am immersed in this world now. People here apologise for their problems knowing that I have met people whose problems are more of the life and death variety but they shouldn't; our problems are our problems and they can feel like life or death to us. We all do the best we can with them. Mine all seem to be to do with rain and hard streets which I march in my shoes and the pains in my legs and my feet which are used to a slower, warmer life in flip flops. And public transport which is AMAZING! In Moshi public transport was the public's legs, and stepping out onto the road to walk to the shop was to join a journey that started a thousand miles ago and will go on for a thousand miles and while you are on it there will be no time or hurry only walking. My new strong African legs are coming in useful here at home but my old weak Irish chest has succumbed to the cold and coughs and wheezes.


I have learnt so many things in the last six months. I have loved the people that I met and the sheer amount of work and I can't wait to get my clinic up and running here again so that I can keep doing the work that I love, Which is why I venture out into the rain again and again, organising, organising.


I have been writing this blog to give an insight into the work that HHA does, the big story that happens in a small way day after day after day but I can no longer do that, all I can tell you about now is greyness and rain. If you are able to and would like to support Jeremy and Camilla and the great work that they are doing a standing order for five euro or five dollars a month is a very tangible, bread and butter, way to do it.


http://www.homeopathyforhealthinafrica.org/donate/

It remains only for me to thank you, dear reader, for keeping me company all this time. 
Thank You
Sandy