i just opened an email with an attached list of one of my good friends belongings. a list of all the stuff they're selling before they move back to the US in january. it was painful. the dissembling of lives again. and somehow between knowing that my kampala crew is dismantling between now and june, and mike being far away and connecting with what we left behind, i'm left feeling displaced- feeling torn between two worlds- feeling a bit lost.
the thing about the kampala friends, is that they get it. we've shared displacement. we've shared adjusting, and morphing our american or western ways into east african life. we've been frustrated by the same things- laughed at the same things- cried over the same things- and appreciated the same things. mostly each other. mostly our community, and our time, that we know is to be treasured and clung to- because it's different here.
some of the women who are leaving have been here for 3 years, some have been here for 7 and i've only really known them for a year. but a lot can happen in a year. and the thing about loss is that it hurts now, but it hurts even more after the leaving. so i'm left wondering what it will feel like next august- when these 5 friends are spread across the globe- and i'm back in the red dirt of the place i now call home.
it's not so bleak. i have really good friends who aren't leaving...yet. and i have really good ugandan friends who aren't leaving...probably ever. but the leaving reminds me of the transience of life overseas and the fact that i'm one of those people who left normal and known- for unknown and different. that i'm one of those people who chose displacement- and all the 'dis-ness' that comes with that, but also the beauty and the opportunity that comes from this chosen path, that we willingly walked into, that we joined- and we will always remember however long we stay, however far back we go.
Rememberance
And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing
which would infinitely enrich your life:
the powerful, uniquely uncommon,
the awakening of dormant stones,
depths that would reveal you to yourself.
In the dusk you notice the book shelves
with their volumes in gold and in brown;
and you think of far lands you journeyed,
of pictures and of shimmering gowns
worn by women you conquered and lost.
And it comes to you all of a sudden:
That was it! And you arise, for you are
aware of a year in your distant past
with its fears and events and prayers.
rainer maria rilke
the thing about the kampala friends, is that they get it. we've shared displacement. we've shared adjusting, and morphing our american or western ways into east african life. we've been frustrated by the same things- laughed at the same things- cried over the same things- and appreciated the same things. mostly each other. mostly our community, and our time, that we know is to be treasured and clung to- because it's different here.
some of the women who are leaving have been here for 3 years, some have been here for 7 and i've only really known them for a year. but a lot can happen in a year. and the thing about loss is that it hurts now, but it hurts even more after the leaving. so i'm left wondering what it will feel like next august- when these 5 friends are spread across the globe- and i'm back in the red dirt of the place i now call home.
it's not so bleak. i have really good friends who aren't leaving...yet. and i have really good ugandan friends who aren't leaving...probably ever. but the leaving reminds me of the transience of life overseas and the fact that i'm one of those people who left normal and known- for unknown and different. that i'm one of those people who chose displacement- and all the 'dis-ness' that comes with that, but also the beauty and the opportunity that comes from this chosen path, that we willingly walked into, that we joined- and we will always remember however long we stay, however far back we go.
Rememberance
And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing
which would infinitely enrich your life:
the powerful, uniquely uncommon,
the awakening of dormant stones,
depths that would reveal you to yourself.
In the dusk you notice the book shelves
with their volumes in gold and in brown;
and you think of far lands you journeyed,
of pictures and of shimmering gowns
worn by women you conquered and lost.
And it comes to you all of a sudden:
That was it! And you arise, for you are
aware of a year in your distant past
with its fears and events and prayers.
rainer maria rilke
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