Lasts

I moved out of my site a few days ago. It still does not seem real that I won't be going back after a week in the city. It's strange to say the least.

June 18 was a big ole day of lasts. I woke up and drank my last cup of instant coffee, for the last time, in my jungle house. I gave away the last of my things and packed for the city for the last time. I cooked my last box of macaroni and cheese, for the last time, on my jungle stove. I took my last bucket bath after catching water for the last time.

That night I sat with Beta, trying to breathe in my last moments in Malobi. Women were sitting at her house, braiding hair and gossiping. They would look over at me periodically and talk about my departure the next morning. I held back the tears. I kept trying to take mental snapshots of the scene. Eventually the women left, and it was just Beta and me sitting at her house the way we had almost every single day that I was at site. I took another mental snapshot. I did not hold back the tears that came after that one. She hugged me and told me to stop crying. I tried. She took my hand and told me that when I cry, she feels it. She understands. She didn't cry, but the way her face looked, I knew we were feeling the same way. You see, Beta has been my best friend since my first day in Malobi. We were destined to have a special relationship. I didn't know it when I moved to site, but Beta would be the one to teach me so much about Saamaka culture. Beta didn't know it when I moved to site, but I would be the one to sit with her dying child in the last days of her life. That's not a small thing for either of us. We're bonded for life. And not because we helped each other when things were hard, but because we love each other enough to help each other. I will be forever grateful for her friendship.

As we sat at her house the night before I left, we talked and we didn't. We hugged a lot and I cried a little. It was quiet for about ten minutes, and we had both been looking at each other periodically. We both knew that eventually I was going to have to leave. And so I did. I looked at her and said, "Beta, mi o hopo," for the last time. I left her house for the last time. I walked to my house and locked the door from the inside for the last time. I fell asleep to the sound of the rowdy bats that live in my ceiling for the last time.

The next morning, the twins woke me up about 6:30. I opened my door to find them all ready for school, looking precious as always and melting my heart. I hugged them for the last time.

A few hours later, I hugged Beta for the last time. She walked me to the river, and I climbed into a dugout canoe for the last time. I cried as I rode away from my jungle home for the last time.

Some folks said that leaving their sites was hard. I won't say that. I have had really hard days in Malobi. The day I left wasn't one of them. Believe me, I was super sad. But also believe that I stepped into that boat all by myself. No one had to push me or carry me, kicking and screaming. No, it wasn't hard. I've had two years to prepare for the end. It was always going to be sad, and I'm thankful for that. The last two years would be a waste if I had not formed relationships that mean so much to me.

I am sure I will be sad again at some point, but right now I'm excited and relieved. I am so thankful that this opportunity was given to me, and I am so proud that I took it.

In one week I will fly back to America. I hope my family and friends are as ready as I am. No, let's be honest, they are. I know that.