42 Days

It's a slap in the face to realize a moment you've waited for for two years is suddenly coming up at you like the ground in free fall. Not that every day was a countdown to my last day here but some days certainly were. Enough of them that I suddenly feel a pang of guilt towards Lesotho.
I'd been away from site for almost a month. Between the GRE, vacation, COS conference and an HIV/AIDS Committee meeting, I was ready to start walking back to Ramabanta on Saturday morning when it was finally all done and over. Al graciously agreed to chop off about 8 inches of my hair (my first haircut in two years) and feeling lighter I ran to the taxi rank to begin the adventure that is getting home.


I thought it quite lucky that the taxi was nearly full, guaranteeing a speedy departure time as soon as we had all the seats occupied. Unfortunately, everyone else had lots of belongings with them just as I did, so it was more crowded than usual. Not just the bags of maize meal and cabbage heads but also an impressive number of babies on laps, suitcases at our feet and even a mattress. All inside our "mini bus" (passenger van). So my large backpack, my large grocery back of paperwork, clothes, shoes, and towel, and my shoulder bag (or "purse", I suppose) all ended up on my lap. 'At least it's cloudy and cool today,' I thought, 'Not too hot in here.' As the conductor jumped in and slammed the door closed behind him I panicked to realize that in the month of living out of my backpack I'd repacked so many times I had no clue where my earplugs were. Not that I could have reached them anyway, as tightly packed in as we were... The taxi may have had a driver's side door that only opened from the inside and considerable trouble getting out of first gear, but the sounds system was top notch and speaker conveniently located directly about my head.

I spent two hours with my fingers in my ears. I swear I'll never look at an accordion again without experiencing heart palpitations and war time-like flashbacks.

But as soon as I got off the taxi two hours later I felt calm and elated. A few kids playing on the school soccer field called my name. My house has never felt so serene to walk into. I put on a scarf and sweatshirt in acknowledgement of the chilly fall weather and went to say hello to Malineo. She was thrilled to see me back and told me people had been asking if I'd left for good - she knew better. When my two favorite toddlers greeted me I literally ran to pick them up and hug them. People's smiles and greetings felt so genuine. The mountains are turning brown - again - to announce my second fall here. Why was I returning home from a three day conference on leaving Lesotho and finishing my PC service and feeling more at home and comfortable than ever before?

Six weeks to go and I suddenly feel like a traitor. I'm meant to be boxing up belongings and purging old paperwork and selling pots and pans; half of me is ecstatic and half, suddenly and without warning, heartbroken.