Eyes still tightly shut, I always knew when it was morning. The cool breeze rustling through my tent, the dampness of my skin, the brightness of the beaming orange sun beginning to rise over the blues of the ocean...all reminders the day was near. I pulled my blue fleece close around my neck, thankful for the covering that had traveled with me on all my African adventures...I knew the time was around 5:30 am...the scraping of the children sweeping the sand replaced any need for a wake-up alarm. I sat up and wrapped a capalana around my body, grabbed a bar of soap and headed down to the beach for a morning swim and shower. By the time I reached the gate, I was accompanied by my little friends...I loved wondering who would win the daily battle of who got to carry my towel and who got to hold my hand...arriving at the beach, I joined the mothers in the water as children came to bathe and the men and boys pushed their fishing boats in the water, hoping to get an early start. I arrived home and the base is bustling...pastors are ready and waiting outside the kitchen for their morning tea and roll and the children are busy cleaning their dorms before school.
"Good Morning Mana Mal!" --- Edwardo, the gatekeeper, said daily with his toothy grin...
I clipped my towel on the line and climbed the rocky hill to the top of the base, anxious to spend the next hour or so with Daddy. I turned and saw the tops of hundreds of thatched roofs that formed Cabo Delgado, a village finding the love of Jesus day by day...kids ran through the dirt paths, women carried piles of wood and water on their heads...smoke was rising throughout the villages as rice was already being prepared. My heart smiled.

The day had begun.

Good morning, Pemba.