Africa. Sharing a room with thumb-sized cockroaches, geckos and mice. The pungent smell of DEET as it wages its pitiful battle against the mosquitos. Hundred-degree plus farenheit heat, dirt and the red clay dust that finds it’s way into the most inconvenient places. Water that’s toxic to my system, and the constant fear that my next meal will flatten me with three weeks of stomach pain. Mind-numbing poverty and the viscious wake of diseases that have reached the level of pandemic (HIV/AIDS, malaria). Why, then, can we find so little to complain about? Why are we so happy? That might be a question for another post.