I've confirmed my internship with an organization called FOCUS in Kampala. And, I'm beginning my e-mail correspondence accordingly. And, I feel ready to go. I'm getting shots; I'm booking flights; I'm cleaning out my drawers; I'm daydreaming about city streets packed from side to side with mini-buses and clay soil. I daydream about clay, because every picture I see online or in travel books the roads, the rows of dirt in between maize or coffee, the underbelly of the foothills, all of them are red-brown. And, I imagine myself caking my fingertips with it after the rain and playing soccer atop it (even though I am a terrible footballer).
How in the context of such fits of imagination could I possibly remain in one mental place–much less a college campus? It seems an unfair stretch to dangle the immensity of a six month internship abroad in front of yourself and expect to be fully engaged with your surroundings. Well, apparently I've been unfair to myself, and I'll just continue to be.
And, even now as I clean my apartment, I am more drawn by the prospect of listening to the new Explosions in the Sky album and closing my eyes to imagine what it will be like, in as much sensuous capacity as I can create with my collective experience.
But, there are things! things to do! spaces to clean! events to plan! and attend! So, here I go.
"the street heats the urgency of sound"
