My flights home are booked, and as the days winde down it is slowly becoming all I can think about. What will I do my last few days in Mali? What will they serve on the airplane between here and London, where I am meeting Rob, my little brother for a week of exploring? How amazing will the "foggy London-town" weather be when I get there? What will we do when we get to Paris and I STILL can't communicate with anyone? What will I do first when I get home to Seattle? What will I eat first? What will be the first caffeinated beverage I consume courtesy of good ol' Sbux? Will Simon, my dog, snub me like he did last July, barely giving me a hello before he runs off, just to prove to me that he's been fine since I left him behind, THANKYOUVERYMUCH!
With my time here coming to a close, of course I am faced with the fact that I must leave behind people I have come to think of as family. I will no longer be the focus of attention among a village of people (probably more good than bad) and people will not be awed at the fact that I speak their language instead of French. No longer will I use charades to get my point across (also a good thing?) or will I have to explain items I don't know the names for in terms of other items. (fen ka fen were tege.....? the thing that cuts that other thing?) I will miss a whole community of people: young people who will go through school and in sh'allah help to change the ace of Mali; old people who will continue to cling to their ways because really, they have been doing it that way their who lives and what is wrong with it anyway? children who will brighten the lives of other volunteers to come with their smiles, karate moves and warm and slightly sticky hands perfect for holding. I will miss the people I have shared my experience with, the other volunteers who left before me and those I will leave behind, a whole network of extended family, crazy cousins, wise aunts and uncles, brothers-in-law twice removed, that will support me and seek my support for years to come. I look forward to joining the thousands of returned volunteers before me who all have stories to rival my own.
I will miss the brilliance of the night stars with no light pollution. They really do twinkle. I will miss the beautiful colors that the women here wear and the way that they carry their babies, the way they let their children roam through village unsupervised (I was certain this was a huge mistake when I first arrived!), the way they find time to do everything that they have to do to keep their homes in order and still find time to laugh. I will miss the Malian tea and how it is a cure-all for just about everything from upset tummy and sleepiness to heat-exhaustion and the grumpies. I will miss the way Malians treat each other guests and otherwise. A 'hello' to everyone on the street, a joke between arguing parties is quelled by the exchange of last names (called joking cousins, something the US should seriously consider adopting), the offer of foo or drink or shelter or anything else you may need even if the giver doesn't have enough for two.
While I look forward to he next chapter, all filled with good cheese and beer, I will miss it all. The thought that calm my heart being of course that I am not leaving Mali forever; it is not done with me.
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