Upon arriving back at JFK airport I took the Air Train to the subway and then the subway to Penn Station and then walked over to Grand Central to take the train to Wassaic, where Ann Marie would meet me. It added a few extra hours to the trip but it was much less expensive than leaving a car at JFK and easier than having someone pick me up. Also the travel time home (19 hrs of flying and about 5 hrs of airport and 4 hrs of subway and train) was shorter than the trip there. I was able to finish The Last Town on Earth, a novel set in Washington state, about the influenza epidemic at the end of WWI. I don't get such concentrated chances to read so that was relaxing too. It's a fascinating historical novel about events I was ignorant about. In 1917-18 (?) 100 million people worldwide died as a result of the flu, five times as many Americans died of flu as were killed in the war. Having just seen some of the results of the AIDS epidemic in Africa it made for interesting reading to ponder how people respond to such massive and intrusive events. I met many people in S Africa who have responded completely to the crisis there.

What a sensory bombardment it was walkin the streets of NY and then being in Times Square on a glorious autumn day. Just a few days ago I was traveling down a 20km dirt road in the Eastern Cape of South Africa and had to maneuver the car around cows in the road several times to arrive in the coastal village of Hamburg. Lots of maneuvering but no cows in Times Square, not even the Naked Cowboy was there.

The stunning contrast seemed a fitting final stage to a trip filled with contrasts. In spite of all the differences I observed in people, places and things I return home more convinced than ever that we are "all in this together," and that people everywhere are more alike than they are different. The movement of the business men and women and the tourists going through Grand Central Station was strangely similar to the movement of the throngs through the Khayelitsha Township on a Saturday morning. Masses of people going about in seemingly random directions, appearing like human ant colonies guided by uncertainty rather than choice, yet subtly underneath the semi-chaotic movements there is a definite display of community. Hordes of people changing pace and direction ever so slightly to avoid collisions and to allow others space to be a part of this dance we call humanity. I felt nearly as anonymous back in NYC as I did in the bush in Africa but I also felt very much connected to the dancers. It's nice to be home.

Below is the first verse of a work in progress. It is the beginning of attempt to express musically and lyrically some of what I've been feeling. The word, as of today are

We are all one people on this earth
We are all one people on this earth
We come from lots of places
We are called by many names
On the outside we look different
On the inside we're the same
We are all one people here on earth

Below of some of the faces that constitute the Southern Africa portion of the "All One People" we are.