bosse, ahnna na na manguana

Writers note; this will be my last blog probably for a bit because of my upcoming transition. I will be spending this last week at site packing up my house, and saying my goodbyes. from there I will be living in Namaacha, then Maputo. I move to the north in August after the new group swears in. Also, the title of this blog- bosse, ahnna na na manguana is how you say "bye, see you tomorrow" in the local language, Chopi. 

So, I have spent the past week sorting through all the assorted junk that I have accumulated in my house over the past two years here in Quissico. I was slightly shocked and appalled at myself for the amount of crap that has amassed in my small abode. 

During all of this cleaning and thoughts about packing (because in reality I won’t put things in bags/boxes until the final hour), I have done some serious soul searching. While I am still staying in Mozambique for a third year, my life here is about to change drastically.

Not to sound too morbid, but in these last few weeks I have almost felt like I have been told that i only have a few weeks left to live, and that I need to start getting my affairs in order. If you turn your head and squint in a very dramatic way, that statement could be construed as true, in a week, I wont be living here anymore. In reality it is the end of a life, that I lived to my fullest capability. I experienced both emotional and physical intensities I never would have anticipated when I was first sitting in the student union at my college, filling out my application. 

Packing up my little house, I start thinking about all the work I have done to/within it, how I have turned it into a home- and know that next weekend I  am going to walk away from it, never to return again (at least not under the same circumstances and not in the foreseeable future).

How do I get the people whom I have lived amongst to understand that I am actually leaving? --This I have found to be the most frustrating and saddening part of my upcoming departure. When I say that I'm departing in 6 days, they always joke about how I'll be able to just come south and visit, when in reality, I probably won't. 

How do I deal with those, who I thought I made meaningful connections with, who’s sole desire to strip me of my material possessions as I prepare to leave instead of maybe expressing the sadness in your departure? --This has been the second most frustrating part of my departure. "Estou a pedir, _____". It seems that in the end, all I am good for is my stove, my chairs, my clothes, my shoes etc. . . consumerism and materialism- not just a problem in the United States.

But then there is the rebuttal internal argument that I have about how Mozambicans, especially those I have made close friendships with, are incredibly caring, generous people who opened their homes, and lives to me.  For example, Tia Julia is always there to offer me meals, voices her concern of my (and my family’s) well being. She is overly curious about my habits, and life choices.  I have loved sharing recipes with her, watching as she marvels in shock that Americans make black bean burgers, vegetable stir fry, and banana bread.

Two years of life here in Quissico is now at its inevitable conclusion. Its an odd thing, coming into Peace Corps, knowing that I will have 2 years to serve in a small community, thinking that it is going to be a long and uphill battle the entire time. I know that I have attempted to express my experiences, failures and successes here, but words fail to tell the story. It has been a wild emotional and physical roller coaster. Sometimes within one day I can experience; joy and suffering, accomplishment and disappointment, success and frustration, friendship and familial love - and lets not forget all of those glamorous times when I've had to poop on the side of the road while traveling (or the rare occasion that I didnt actually make it to the side of the road) because of a previous day's indulgence in cheap market food. (ahh, the gastronomic adventures of a PCV)

I have not cried all that often in this country, but when I was walking around town yesterday, I had to put my sunglasses on because the tears started to well up in my eyes as I passed all the familiar scenery which I don’t know when I will see again. My relationship and love for this small town has been created and nurtured by the numerous frustrations and challenges that I went through here. It has been much like a hazing experience, or as my friend jokingly said, like Stockholm Syndrome, making the separation all the more difficult. 

I have been challenged by life here on a daily basis, which I both appreciate and loathe. But through it all I have felt the love of this town, and its people in an indescribable way. I am leaving this amazing place for my next adventure in the northern city of Quelimane but the unforgettable experiences here have left me with a new perception of life. And that, that will never leave me.