The First Morning

It is earliest morning in Zambia, the sun just starting its ascent
into the November sky, and I am on a crowded bus, already too hot, en
route to the airport.

The polls close in my beloved California in mere minutes, and with her
mighty 55 electoral college votes CNN will say that Obama has clinched
it. Or perhaps they already have.

Being so far from this campaign's center of gravity on the day it
evolves from potential to actual is quite hard. But the Africans I
encounter have made a great difference in that regard. They hunger for
some small connection to this otherwise mythical man, which I can
provide them. My cache of Obama buttons dwindles but the
conversations with their proud new owners fill the empty spaces in me.

It will more than do for now.

But soon I will need to celebrate this with the grassroots -- the
people who pushed relentlessly and with great hope to achieve this
seismic shift in America's quest to evolve into the nation it has
always claimed to be.

Today, I wish I was home.

Sent from my iPhone, please pardon the type-os!

Comments

[Karen]

watching the people in his grandmother's village in Kenya dance and celebrate moved me to tears. their overwhelming pride and joy...what an amazing story.

[Glennia]

I thought of you last night, and all the hard work you poured into this campaign. It's wonderful that you can share your enthusiasm and hope with the rest of the world. Come home safe, but savor every minute of your incredible journey.