goodbye.
hi friends.
Last time I left off, I was ranting about idiot tourist. There's definitely a difference between a traveler and a tourist (insert eye roll), but that rant will have to wait for another day and another entry.
Now... where we left off.... I had seen a bit of Zimbabwe and stupidly signed up for a white water rafting trip with the rest of my travel group thinking it was a great way to finish the trip. I was wrong. White water rafting in the Zambezi is dangerous. Do people die? Not many I suppose, but you feel like it the entire time! I remember thinking to myself, "I survived two years in Mozambique ... and then I go and sign up for this shit?!? que pendeja eres!" Throughout the entire trip, all I heard was my mother's voice saying to me "Y QUIEN TE MANDA?!" (Who sent you to do [something] this [stupid]?) . I swear to you, I heard the voices of my tias in dismay "pero, mija! como se the ocurre." I also remembered a great quotable by Jessica Williams, MOZ 18 when after traveling for a full day in questionable conditions, she said "If I die, my Mom is going to be SOOO MAD!!" ahahahaha.. Even in death, we fear our mothers. Because you know, ... Mexican moms don't play.
I let out a HUGE sigh of relief when I was on land. It was still fairly early in the afternoon and this was the last day of the tour before I started making my way to Lusaka, Zambia. I took the afternoon to run through Vic Falls and see one of the natural wonders of the world. I posted some pictures on the previous entry... but let me just say.... my photography DOES NOT do justice to the beauty of the falls. I was honestly ... just breathless. The falls were not even at their most powerful (during and right after the rainy season) but they are so vast that they spray mist across the way and it some parts, you feel as if its raining.
...The sun was setting and I had to leave the park.... I stopped at one of the last view points and saw this...
AND then it hit me. "Tomorrow, I make my way to Lusaka." I was leaving. I stood there alone. I thought about the journey of the past 27 months. Joining Peace Corps, moving to a new continent, to a new country, adapting to a new culture, learning a new language. Missing out on the weddings, the births, the birthdays and the special moments of my family back home. I though about all the moments when I missed home to no end. And in my head I said my goodbyes and my thanks yous. My eyes filled with tears and I just lost it. I was bawling. But it was such a beautiful sight... and such a special moment of reflection. I thought, ...
Homesickness takes on new levels when you're a lonely, sad volunteer in the middle of Africa. But the lessons learned and the experience is immeasurable. You don't leave with a fat bank account, or properties to your name... nice cars or nice clothes. In fact, all of your belongings have lost their battle against Africa and your clothes now have tears from hand washing them against rocks.... However, you leave with some great stories. You experience such kindness and goodness from total strangers that it totally redefines your definition of generosity. You leave with new friendships and new perspectives. You leave with a new respect and value for water. An even more immense respect for the poor and working class women of the world who show incredible strength and resilience in spite of their circumstances. You meet other Americans from other parts of your country. You meet people who you are sometimes forced to befriend. You befriend people that you would've never befriended in the states. People who you never had the courage to befriend. These friends become family because when you're home, no one really understands what you went through. No one understands how much you hate being called muzungo. No one understands the patience you acquired from sitting at a bus terminal for six hours waiting for the mini bus to fill and take you to your destination. No one will understand the comfort you brought to each other and how much you appreciated those small moments (talking to you, Shana).
The next day I made my way to Lusaka and crashed with a PCV. The day after that, I started the 30+ hour (Lusaka> South Africa> Abu Dhabi> New York) trip home.
Last time I left off, I was ranting about idiot tourist. There's definitely a difference between a traveler and a tourist (insert eye roll), but that rant will have to wait for another day and another entry.
Now... where we left off.... I had seen a bit of Zimbabwe and stupidly signed up for a white water rafting trip with the rest of my travel group thinking it was a great way to finish the trip. I was wrong. White water rafting in the Zambezi is dangerous. Do people die? Not many I suppose, but you feel like it the entire time! I remember thinking to myself, "I survived two years in Mozambique ... and then I go and sign up for this shit?!? que pendeja eres!" Throughout the entire trip, all I heard was my mother's voice saying to me "Y QUIEN TE MANDA?!" (Who sent you to do [something] this [stupid]?) . I swear to you, I heard the voices of my tias in dismay "pero, mija! como se the ocurre." I also remembered a great quotable by Jessica Williams, MOZ 18 when after traveling for a full day in questionable conditions, she said "If I die, my Mom is going to be SOOO MAD!!" ahahahaha.. Even in death, we fear our mothers. Because you know, ... Mexican moms don't play.
I let out a HUGE sigh of relief when I was on land. It was still fairly early in the afternoon and this was the last day of the tour before I started making my way to Lusaka, Zambia. I took the afternoon to run through Vic Falls and see one of the natural wonders of the world. I posted some pictures on the previous entry... but let me just say.... my photography DOES NOT do justice to the beauty of the falls. I was honestly ... just breathless. The falls were not even at their most powerful (during and right after the rainy season) but they are so vast that they spray mist across the way and it some parts, you feel as if its raining.
...The sun was setting and I had to leave the park.... I stopped at one of the last view points and saw this...
 |
| the sun setting over the falls |
AND then it hit me. "Tomorrow, I make my way to Lusaka." I was leaving. I stood there alone. I thought about the journey of the past 27 months. Joining Peace Corps, moving to a new continent, to a new country, adapting to a new culture, learning a new language. Missing out on the weddings, the births, the birthdays and the special moments of my family back home. I though about all the moments when I missed home to no end. And in my head I said my goodbyes and my thanks yous. My eyes filled with tears and I just lost it. I was bawling. But it was such a beautiful sight... and such a special moment of reflection. I thought, ...
"Thank you, Mama Africa. Thank you for all the lessons learned. And even for those lonely nights that almost broke my spirit."
Homesickness takes on new levels when you're a lonely, sad volunteer in the middle of Africa. But the lessons learned and the experience is immeasurable. You don't leave with a fat bank account, or properties to your name... nice cars or nice clothes. In fact, all of your belongings have lost their battle against Africa and your clothes now have tears from hand washing them against rocks.... However, you leave with some great stories. You experience such kindness and goodness from total strangers that it totally redefines your definition of generosity. You leave with new friendships and new perspectives. You leave with a new respect and value for water. An even more immense respect for the poor and working class women of the world who show incredible strength and resilience in spite of their circumstances. You meet other Americans from other parts of your country. You meet people who you are sometimes forced to befriend. You befriend people that you would've never befriended in the states. People who you never had the courage to befriend. These friends become family because when you're home, no one really understands what you went through. No one understands how much you hate being called muzungo. No one understands the patience you acquired from sitting at a bus terminal for six hours waiting for the mini bus to fill and take you to your destination. No one will understand the comfort you brought to each other and how much you appreciated those small moments (talking to you, Shana).
The next day I made my way to Lusaka and crashed with a PCV. The day after that, I started the 30+ hour (Lusaka> South Africa> Abu Dhabi> New York) trip home.
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