nongqongqo (to those we love)

I've been asked a few times whether I'll continue writing this blog up once I leave Moz and the answer is: I don't know. It's been an essential way for me to process my time here (and let's be honest, my life in general), and it may continue to be useful for that once I'm home. There's still a lot I never talked about: the role that music played over these years. Some of the more harrowing car accidents. One weird and amusing tale I heard about five china teacups and a pregnancy gone awry.

But then, I may be so busy eating giant double-chocolate muffins, visiting free public libraries with Wifi, drinking water straight out of the garden hose, leaving a large carbon footprint (as Americans do), flirting with men in my own language, and calling AAA when my car breaks down; that I simply won't have time to write. Who knows.

So, a few words to my mostly unknown readership:

Thank you for being interested in what I had to say. I certainly enjoyed describing things. I know I can get verbose, rely too heavily upon the semi-colon, and overuse references to the "wide open", "eternity", "grass" and forces floating around the "universe" - but you stuck with me anyways and left kind, encouraging words. Until one has spent a few years away from friends, family, and your home culture, it's impossible to appreciate how much those little contacts mean to a person. For me, it was simply knowing that somebody was listening.

I spent a lot of my time here feeling very lonely and overwhelmed by what was going on. Some people died that I cared about, my personal life went astray very early on, and a few of life's most difficult questions concerning God and faith went from mere dalliances in my mind to full-on bedfellows. I had too much time to think in the evenings, alone, which never helps a person get a grip. Also, there's no Mexican food in this part of the world. None, at all.

But I loved it here. Could you see that? I think I wouldn't have nearly so much if it hadn't required so much from me, kicking me in the butt one moment and bowling me over with amazement the next. What a country, what a place! I miss it before I've even gone. It's cliche to talk about Africa this way, but she's burned into my being, and what a privilege to be in this way scarred.

As I take my leave, I feel happy: glad for what I accomplished, at peace with what I didn't, and heartened that when I imagine coming back to this continent, it's sooner rather than later.

(But I think I need to become a nurse-midwife first.)

I fly away on Tuesday. If you want be in touch, anyone, please write me an email. I would love that. 

Farewell!