It's December...

It’s officially December first, the first day of my last week in Odibo, and the first day of my last month in Namibia.  Ironically, the weather is a great representation of my current mood.  Since waking up, it has been raining off and on as the sun tries to peek through the dreary, overcast sky.  The sun sneaks a peek every so often, but quickly hides itself again for the raindrops to breakthrough.  In many ways, this is a perfect description of the emotions I am feeling about leaving.  In a matter of minutes, I can go from excited, to nervous, to upset, to anxious, to in tears.  There will be a glimpse of the joy of leaving, but in seconds, just like the rain, the sadness of saying goodbye returns.

For the most part, my bags are packed and ready to go.  Yes, I am on top of things, but that is mainly because I stayed in the village this last weekend.  Even with a lot of events taking place on Friday and Saturday, I was able to finalize these events, because let’s face it, there’s a lot you can get done in 48 hours when you are staying home.  Although I’m upset that I missed one last weekend with the other volunteers, I will see many of them one more time and I am glad that I took the time to stay home with the family. 

This weekend was a perfect end to my village life in Namibia.  On Friday, after finishing up at work, I took the boys into town to run a couple errands.  We also got photos printed, and since I knew they would want to do teenage boy things and not pal around with Ms. Mac, I left them at KFC with a chicken lunch and taxi fare to get home.  After taking care of my last minute needs, I walked to the market to catch a ride back to the village.  As much as the market has caused problems for me throughout these months, I secretly love it there.  The hustle and bustle, the boisterous laughs, the barbershops with men getting their hair done, the fat cakes and kapana waiting to be bought.  It is a vibrant, colorful part of Oshikango that screams life.  It is a place where the people are silently declaring that they are using all that they know in order to fight for their place in society.  After returning from town, I found my sweet little boy (let’s call him Kay because his name is too difficult) and Vistorina and headed to a shop to buy cool drinks and sweets.  When we got back, I hung out with Kay and then did some relaxing and socializing for the rest of the night.

On Saturday, I woke with determination to have a day filled with Namibian activities.  Around 9, some learners came over to greet me.  They had a meeting at the school and were waiting for the teacher to arrive.  A couple hours later, the same students and a couple others returned to watch Pitch Perfect and hangout with Ms. Mac for one last Saturday.  We had a movie, sweets, cool drinks, and dancing.  My heart was full watching these girls open up, laugh throughout the movie, and get excited about songs they liked.  Nathanael and Henry did some DJing for them, which got those Namibian dance moves I love so much to come out in full force.  Later in the afternoon, I headed to town to meet up with another American that moved to Namibia a couple weeks ago.  Finding out about him is a crazy side story that I may quickly write down at some point this week.  The night ended with my sweet Kay sharing dinner with me and playing with a random tire outside the house.  There were also many bugs, but what else is new.  Like many nights these past couple weeks though, the power went out due to the rain and I enjoyed another sweaty sleep. 

For this week, I am preparing myself to be emotional, but also a little distant.  I am like my mother in that sense.  I want to feel all of the ups and downs deeply, but I know myself and know that in some ways I should pull away a little for my own sake.  Then on Friday, a coworker will drive me to Eenhana in order to meet Emily and wait for the ministry transport that awaits us on Saturday.

Stop. Breathe.

I can’t believe this year is actually coming to an end.  If I am honest with all of you, I am very scared to come home.  I’m scared to fit back into society and that I may become hostile to some of the things we do as Americans.  I’m scared that no other job will be nearly as rewarding as this year I spent being 23.