16 November 2007

...With my departure from Cameroon literally within sight, I have spent the last few weeks frantically trying to see people, get projects finished, pack and wrap up normal, everyday activities. It hasn't been easy. Saying goodbye to friends, c0-workers and even those random neighbors who happily greeted me everyday has been very difficult. I feel very lucky to have had this experience which makes saying goodbye so much harder.

I will, thankfully, be replaced in Ndu. A new volunteer will come in December to start her 2 years there. It was fun to have her visit for a few days and it gave me an interesting look back on how I may have been so long ago. While I know I have changed a lot, for the better I hope, it's difficult to look at yourself and see those changes. Still, I'm looking forward to hearing about Amber's time in Ndu and hope she finds it as rewarding (though not without it's challenges) as I did.

A few things that I will miss...

I will miss the kids running up the hill greeting me every afternoon shouting “Allo Allo!” (Which they think is my name), and especially the youngest one who sounds more like “Yai-yo, yai-yo!”

I’ll miss morning coffee in my Spice Girls mug.

I’ll miss Pa’s foufou corn and njama-njama; my landlords car working never; sleeping 8 hours a night; throwing things at chickens; daily walks and talking back to Denise Austin workout videos.

I’ll miss the complete sincerity in my friends’ inquisition about my weekend. I’ll miss how wonderful a bucket bath can be. I will miss walking home from CBTS and stopping to gaze at the billions upon billions of stars that are brighter and more abundant than anywhere else I’ve been on earth.

I will miss sitting on fence posts talking to my friends and making them laugh by telling them the latest tale of embarrassing myself or falling. I will miss feeling integrated enough into a culture so much that it doesn’t shock me anymore. I will miss Anglophone English—until. I will miss the rain.

I will miss feeling sore from washing a bucket of clothes and being referred to as a Cameroonian woman because I wash them myself. I’ll miss riding on the back of George’s motorcycle through (over, around, and sometimes under) rocky bush roads to the village. I’ll miss making old Mamis smile by speaking one of ten phrases in the dialect.

I will miss my wonderful friends, dance parties in the case, movie nights, and drinking palm wine. I will miss the fog, miss the sun, miss the sounds of drums and singing and banter from the traditional kitchen. I will miss not ever matching and wearing the same thing a few days in a row.

I will miss the emotional roller coaster that made up everyday for 26 months. I will miss the pace of life. I’ll miss pineapples and mangoes, sounds instead of words, and oatmeal everyday.

Despite the irritations, trials and frustrations, I will miss it all (well most of it, at least) and cherish it forever.