This Monday I left my site. It is most likely the last time I will ever see anyone from my village again. I was able to give away most of my belongings as "remembrances" to the people who helped me most. It was great to be able to give back to my village for keeping me safe for 2 years in an environment you can't always feel completely comfortable in. As I was preparing to leave, I began reflecting on my service, trying to think of all the things that will remain lasting impressions on my time here. It was an incredible experience. It was insanely stressful at times, emotional, exciting, humbling. But as I finish, the stress goes away, and what remains is the new person I've become after putting myself into job that demands so much and keeps giving.
I'll remember the bike rides in the
rain, the flat tires, and the wreaks.
I'll remember the bus rides, taxis,
mosquito bites, and sunburns.
I'll remember when the lights went out
for days at a time. I'll remember all the cold showers and bucket
baths.
I'll remember carrying water to my
house every morning. I'll remember watching the sunsets every
evening.
I'll remember lighting a
fire for every meal.
I'll remember standing on the road for
hours waiting for a ride, and the wind on my face while on the backs
of trucks.
I'll remember hiding under a blanket in
the back of a cargo truck to keep the dust from covering me, then
riding on the top of the cab through my district.
I'll remember the sores, bumps,
bruises, blisters, cuts, scrapes, and scars.
I'll remember waking up at night in
Chobe National Park in Botswana, looking out and seeing yellow eyes
glowing back at me.
I'll remember the letters I read over
and over again from friends and family back home.
I'll remember buying fresh vegetables
from my neighbors, cooking them for dinner. I'll remember picking
fruit from a tree.
I'll remember letting the village
children draw on the sides of my hut with charcoal.
I'll remember the first rainstorm of
the season, falling asleep to thunder, listening to the insects.
I'll remember my dog Odi, and teaching
her to play fetch.
I'll remember biking to town twice with
Malaria, the night sweats, the aches and pains, and weight loss.
I'll remember playing pool with locals
on a cardboard table with marbles and sticks.
I'll remember my friends and family
that went to the other side of the world just to see me.
I'll remember learning a new language,
making new friends, and all the meals I shared.
I'll remember dragging a tree through
the bush to my neighbors house so he could build a workshop.
I'll remember Mama, her kittens Tata, Lala, Bagheera, and Bamboo, and
they way she would meow without making noise. I'll remember waking up on cold
mornings with her curled up at my feet. I'll remember when I said
goodbye to Mama only to find out later she escaped from her new owner
and followed me home.
I'll remember the bike wreck where my
front wheel came off, fixing my bike, and hurrying home before
sunset.
I'll remember campfires with friends.
I'll remember laying in my hammock,
doing puzzles and reading.
I'll remember biking 120 kilometers
from my hut to town one morning.
I'll remember camping on the beach for
my birthday.
I'll remember seeing a friend of mine
who had just lost everything she owned.
I'll remember watching movies all night
when I was in town, eating homemade pizza and burgers.
I'll remember meeting a friend of mine
in town, selling his shoes so he could buy food for his family.
I'll remember chasing fish around in
the mud in my first fish harvest.
I'll remember playing poker with
peanuts, candy, and vegetables as the chips.
I'll remember using the British words
for everyday things like boot, trousers, and queue.
I'll remember the kids screaming
“Muzungu!”
I'll remember the time I was in a car
with 9 other adults.
I'll remember when landing in Zambia
for the first time, my face pressed against the window, searching for
elephants that weren't there.
I'll remember swimming out so I could
be underneath Ntumbachushi Falls.
I'll remember jumping in the cold pool
at a deserted hotel on our Zambezi river safari.
I'll remember teaching my neighbors how
to dive in a pond.
I'll remember living my life without
electricity, internet, running water, or plumbing.
I'll remember the wildfires that
blocked out the afternoon sun, and lit up the night sky.
I'll remember hearing about the deaths
of fellow Peace Corps Volunteers around the world.
I'll remember how books, art, and music
began to take on more meaning than they ever have.
I'll remember Martin, his goofy grin,
and how he always laughs like he's not supposed to, which makes him
laugh even harder.
I'll remember hunting down rats and
mice with my cats at night.
I'll remember our ridgeback house dog,
Damnit, and how she would sit in chairs like people.
I'll remember Dorkus, the most annoying
cat I've ever loved.
I'll remember all the sand in my food.
I'll remember the ants in my drink.
I'll remember standing at Danger Point
at Victoria Falls, not being able to see a thing.
I'll remember watching Chicken TV in my
yard, discussing each chickens relationships and life events.
I'll remember saying goodbye to my
neighbors, never to see them again.
