Finally taking off from The Gambia was.... I''m not quite sure. Somehow matter-of-fact-like. The tears had been shed the week prior and tear ducts were spent, or as we like to say, tired.
I can't say that I never pictured the flight home from site a time or two, or three or four.... Especially within those last four months in the heat of the afternoon. Imagining the clean crisp coolness of the plane. The beverage cart. And saying bye to Gambia underneath a golden sun set. Happy and at peace.
As it was, we watched the sun disappear into the sky at the beach hours beforehand. Surrounded by good friends as the waves rolled in and breeze blew cold. Night fell upon us there. Indian food was delivered. We enjoyed music in the glow of a lit up water bag as we waited for the power to come on. Shortly after the current finally flowed into the dull bulbs above, the speakers responsible for extracting the information encrypted in the iPod and emanating it as sound waves and lyrics and beats, died from low battery since I had neglected to charge them for a long time.
So we finished the meal without the accompaniment of Regina Spektor or whomever was serenading us.
As I sat in the plane taking it all in, that this was really it, I found myself reminiscing over many scenes of West Africa that colored my last two years in the fullest and brightest of ways. Markets, transport, restaurants, village, attaya, gardens, farms, etc.
Shortly before the flight we were exhausting our Dalasi on overpriced tea and Pringles. I took in my reflection and noticed my cheeks to be a bit more gaunt and sunken than they were when I came to the continent.
My service was definitely challenging. But as challenging as it was I found my tired heart burst open for the people and the land and the culture of what I now consider and feel to be my far way second home.
"I'm going to really miss West Africa," I said to Daniel. He answered with a sympathetic smile. "Yea, it will be a long time before we see it again." He said.
The tall dry grasses were a lit by the lights of the plane under the dark 1:00 am night sky.
"It will." I answered. Feeling better about leaving with the sense or hope of a return if even far off in the future.
Exhaustion took us both over then. My eyes stung briefly. Then the tires lifted. It was real. We were leaving. We were gone. Two years... over and done. Just. Like. That.
I thought of my family in Jimbala. What were they up to? When would I get to hear from them? Would the search the sky for an airplane?
And then, as memories and thoughts flitted through like a soundless movie screen, I slept. Somewhat.
Bye Gambia. Or, shall I see, see you later. Inshallah.
I can't say that I never pictured the flight home from site a time or two, or three or four.... Especially within those last four months in the heat of the afternoon. Imagining the clean crisp coolness of the plane. The beverage cart. And saying bye to Gambia underneath a golden sun set. Happy and at peace.
As it was, we watched the sun disappear into the sky at the beach hours beforehand. Surrounded by good friends as the waves rolled in and breeze blew cold. Night fell upon us there. Indian food was delivered. We enjoyed music in the glow of a lit up water bag as we waited for the power to come on. Shortly after the current finally flowed into the dull bulbs above, the speakers responsible for extracting the information encrypted in the iPod and emanating it as sound waves and lyrics and beats, died from low battery since I had neglected to charge them for a long time.
So we finished the meal without the accompaniment of Regina Spektor or whomever was serenading us.
As I sat in the plane taking it all in, that this was really it, I found myself reminiscing over many scenes of West Africa that colored my last two years in the fullest and brightest of ways. Markets, transport, restaurants, village, attaya, gardens, farms, etc.
Shortly before the flight we were exhausting our Dalasi on overpriced tea and Pringles. I took in my reflection and noticed my cheeks to be a bit more gaunt and sunken than they were when I came to the continent.
My service was definitely challenging. But as challenging as it was I found my tired heart burst open for the people and the land and the culture of what I now consider and feel to be my far way second home.
"I'm going to really miss West Africa," I said to Daniel. He answered with a sympathetic smile. "Yea, it will be a long time before we see it again." He said.
The tall dry grasses were a lit by the lights of the plane under the dark 1:00 am night sky.
"It will." I answered. Feeling better about leaving with the sense or hope of a return if even far off in the future.
Exhaustion took us both over then. My eyes stung briefly. Then the tires lifted. It was real. We were leaving. We were gone. Two years... over and done. Just. Like. That.
I thought of my family in Jimbala. What were they up to? When would I get to hear from them? Would the search the sky for an airplane?
And then, as memories and thoughts flitted through like a soundless movie screen, I slept. Somewhat.
Bye Gambia. Or, shall I see, see you later. Inshallah.
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