Rounding the Corner

It’s so bizarre to now find myself telling people that I’m leaving next month. Next month. What??? How did that happen? But here I am, rounding the corner of my Peace Corps service. Only a few weeks left to wrap up the school year and enjoy my time in Mapinhane, then I head to Maputo to complete the COS (Close Of Service) requirements. We’ll say our final goodbyes before stepping onto a plane bound for Greece, our last exotic vacay, than make it back to America in time for Thanksgiving. I’m asking myself a lot lately how to make the most of the little time I have left, and I keep coming back to the same thing: Just keep on doing what you’re doing. There’s no need to dramatize every little action, just try to be conscious of the things that still astound me here, even 2 years later. An unexpected birthday party is the perfect example. My birthday seemed to be a pretty standard school day plus lots of lovely well wishes from near and far. Chris and I decided to get fancy and go to our village’s one and only restaurant for a celebratory dinner. We planned to make a Bday cake before heading out, but Chris kept delaying the process (which I later found out was on purpose). When we were just about to finish baking, our school director called and said she needed to talk to me. I was very annoyed, thinking I was about to get some extra work right before a birthday dinner. I walked over to her office all in a huff and she says, “There’s something I want to show you”. She unlocks the door to a meeting room and to my COMPLETE surprise, 10 of my students/English club attendees are lining the doorway and signing Happy Birthday. I was in shock, having no idea that this was about to go down. Initially I thought it was just going to be a surprise serenade, a gesture that would have been sweet on its own. But no, as the minutes went on, the layers of generosity piled higher and higher (along with my effort to hold it together and not cry tears of gratitude).  After the birthday song, the guitars came out to sing a couple of original tunes they wrote just for me. I was then led to a nicely decorated table with a ginormous homemade birthday cake, given a pair of brand new sandals as a gift, and shown to my favorite part of the festivities, a poster expressing how much they appreciated me. I was not only completely overwhelmed by their generosity but by the effort they put into making the day so special. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a surprise party thrown for me and I am positive this is one I will never forget. These kids, who certainly have a hell of a lot less than I do, used their own time and money to have a party for me just because they wanted to. The event showed a culmination of things I’ve learned about Mozambicans over the last couple of years. Despite being a country that’s still rebuilding itself after a recent civil war, a country with so much poverty and so many difficulties, the people here remain unshakably kind and generous. And it reminded me how much I’ve grown to care about some of these students and the strength of the relationships I’ve formed. I recently watched an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations”, which took place in Mozambique. He visited a few cities and talked about the life and food in Moz. As I watched the women dance in their brightly colored capulanas and the children waving and running barefoot in the dirt, I felt my heart sink and I became a little misty-eyed.  Not so long ago Mozambique, let alone Africa, seemed like a distant planet for all I knew. But now this place and these people have become irrevocably a part of my life. Seeing this country through the eyes of an American TV show reminded me of my inevitable departure and that soon, I won’t be living it, I’ll be remembering it.  But even with the looming separation anxiety and the slight worry about what’s next, I surprisingly feel like I’m in a good place. I definitely thought I’d be freaking out by now, worrying about the future. While we have some idea of what we want to do and where we want to be, I’m actually ok with the fact that it’s not yet set in ston. This experience shows you that you’re capable of stretching yourself far beyond what you thought was possible and yet through all the difficulties, you are still standing. So although it’s unclear of exactly what lies ahead, I know we’ll make it work. I do have moments where I feel overwhelmed with trying to close out this life, and anticipating what it’ll be like to be thrown back into a world I’ve been away from for so long. But those only come in waves rather than being a constant looming cloud. I’m also surprised by my lack of disgruntled-ness. It’s natural to feel a sense of “get me the heck outta here” when you know something new is about to happen. I’ve felt it many times before when on the cusp of a life change, but not this time. While I’m excited for a new chapter to begin, I’m not dying to turn the page right now. I’m excited to have one more month in this crazy life, and equally excited to start my new one. The balance seems weird and unexpected for my obsessive-planner self. But I think it’s a testament to how I’ve already begun to change.

To further soften the transition, I spent the last 10 days with Moz 21, the new group of volunteers who will be replacing me and the Moz 17ers. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the COS conference didn’t provide the closure that I had expected. But meeting the trainees and helping them navigate their first week in Mozambique made it feel like I actually was ending my journey. I went to training last year and was blown away by how far I’d come since my days in Namaacha. I was not expecting to notice much of a difference when I went this time, but I discovered that I did in fact continue to grow and progress tremendously. The first time I helped the newbies I felt like a pro, but going back again this year, I felt like a veteran.  I loved being on the complete opposite side of the volunteer experience. I watched eyes light up with excitement at the new sights and sounds, and the bewilderment of being thrown into a culture and a language that is well, still very foreign to them. And here I was, repeatedly uttering the words “within two years, I promise you’ll get it”.  On the day they landed, we stayed at a super nice hotel with a super nice buffet where I was practically salivating over the abundance of options: “within two years, I promise you’ll get it”.  When doubts surfaced about their language skills or ability to handle spiders: “within two years, I promise you’ll get it”. When they winced over the amount of people crammed into a chapa: “within two years, I promise you’ll get it”.  And I really have no doubt that this fun, spunky, and very capable group will get it and thrive as PCVs in Mozambique. It was comforting to meet the people who many of us 17ers will be passing the torch to, Chris and I included. Although there are no married couples in the new group, they do plan to send 2 men or 2 women to our site. It’s a relief to know that I’ll personally know whomever is lucky enough to come to Mapinhane to replace us (and FYI, Chris will get to know them too as he was asked to attend their training in a couple of weeks :)). Ironically they’ll be given their site assignments the exact same day we’ll be leaving the country, but I’ll get the scoop on whose continuing the Mapinhane legacy once I get to Greece. For now though, they’ve got a ton of experiences to absorb before worrying about site placement. On Friday, we went to the center of town to witness their first Mozambican holiday celebration for Dia de Paz (Day of Peace).  As per usual, a group of local women provided a jovial soundtrack for the occasion as they danced and clapped to music sung in their native language.  A few of the trainees coyly stood by, unsure if it was appropriate to join in. “I want to dance”, one said to me very matter of fact-ly. So I grabbed her arm and led her into the middle of the action. I jumped in with the traditionally-dressed ladies, dancing and singing along to the limited Xangana I recognized. I turned around to see the trainee on the outskirts of the circle, bobbing her head and clapping while observing my gung-ho approach. I smiled, knowing that I probably did the exact same thing 2 years ago and that 2 years from now, she’ll be in the center.