the Long Return

Today, as of 8:30am, I am no longer a current PCV but a Returned PCV who has no yet returned. It will be a long return, so to speak, as I embark on a three month trip jumping North through Africa with a small detour south, south east.

Said my goodbyes to Amayi Rashidi, Inez, and Patuma last week and rode the bike taxi to Ulongwe one last time. The night before I held Amayi Rashidis hand as she walked me home and she gave me rice to take to my Amayi in America. Its always weird to live, in real time, an occurrence you have spent a lot of time considering and contemplating. Almost like the ultimate reality, being able to consider the past and present all in the moment. So many times I thought about leaving for good, sometimes with nostalgia, sometimes with happiness, and sometimes taking pleasure in the mean thought that the villagers would really be sorry when I left.

A week and three poops in three cups later, I am off to spend one last week in a Malawian village with my American Seesta, Kala. Together, we will cross the northern Karonga district boarder to Tanzania, jump on the overnight train to Dar Es Salaam and I think we will see some giraffe herds on the way. In Dar Es Es Salaam, I will meet my dear friend Matt and together we will through Tanzania, Madagascar, Egypt, and Greece, returning home December 1^st, exhausted and just in time for the holiday season.

I promise I will try my hardest to better maintain this blasted blog. Actions speak louder than words so I guess only time will tell if I keep my word.

Stay Tuned…..

Under the Night Sky

Countless nights I have sat outside under the moon and stars at my amayi’s house. While village night life goes on around me, I quietly eat my nsima, listening to the rolling Yao language of my family and watching the sky. An hour can go by without speaking and many times my amayi has asked if I am sleeping. But no, I am alert; sometimes wandering through my thoughts but always staying in the present. I just watch and listen, not understanding the words but soaking in the mood, intonation, and night. Children sing loudly and play games, fires flare up and die down, the cat rubs up against me before he is shooed away by Amayi. My young brother sleeps on the mat beside me, steadily breathing and sometimes stirring. I look up, noticing a satellite or shooting star which I sometimes point out but often observe silently and make a wish that will seem silly by morning. All this done in the anonymous darkness of night; passersby don’t know I am here, Amayi’s visitors cant stare, I can pull my skirt up past my knees to better feel the coolness of the night. Peace.

Later, I will pull myself up from the mat, slip on my shoes and walk home in the warm night air. Wishing my amayi good night, sleep well, sweet dreams, I will promise to see her again tomorrow and slipping my hands into my pockets I walk 50 ft before she shouts at me to turn my torch on. I comply but only until she is out of sight. On the road, I dodge bikes and pass lone travelers, all of whom I would greet in the day. But at night, the rules change. I no longer feel obligated to greet others and I feel free as I l walk by the light of the moon to my house.

I walk past the borehole where a lone woman pumps her final bucket of water until the break of day tomorrow. Someone calls out to me in the dark, to which I respond the last greeting of the day. Walking past the big tree in the clearing before my house, I shine my light, as always, into the branches hoping to see the eyes of a cat illuminated by the light. After that, I walk quickly through the school grounds and arriving at my house, I turn on my torch, unlock the door and enter inside, hurrying to locate the candles and match to make light. Quietly, I brush my teeth, undress and get in bed, tucking the net tightly around me and open my book. The day is done.