Goodbye to you / Goodbye to everything I thought I knew

So here we are. Two years later.

In a way, I thought this day would never come, that I would never cross the finish line, never be on the other side looking back.

Now here it is, I hold my RPCV title like a badge of honor and yet...I feel like I'm mourning. This is it, isn't it? It's the end of an era, the chapter of this book is done, and I know it had to end sometime but that still doesn't make it easy.

I'm not the same girl I was when I arrived in Mozambique two years ago. How could I be? I've experienced so much, learned so much, changed so much,struggled so much, loved so much.

I fly out tomorrow ("Leaving on a jet plane...") and I can't even believe it.  I don't know if I'm ready. It's terrifying, it's overwhelming, it's just a whole mixed bag of emotions. I know that my family and friends are excited to see me. I know that I have so much waiting for me in the U.S. I know that the next phase of my life will be another exciting adventure. (By the way, you can follow my readjustment blog: USAmbique.) I know, I know.
I'm not ready to leave but I know I can't stay.

There are things I won't miss about Mozambique but above all, there are things I will miss because the memories and relationships I've created here are worth a million times the heat, the ATM lines, the public transportation system, the faulty electricity, and all the other mundane frustrations of life in a third world country.

I love you, Mozambique. Thank you for an amazing Peace Corps experience. I hope you bring to other currently serving and future PCV's as much happiness as you've brought me. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have had the opportunities and experiences I've had. And who knows? Maybe the road will one day lead me back here.

Remember me like I'll always remember you. 

Vivienne

Kanimambo

In the past two years, I've been through so much. As I close out my final day at site, I continue to reflect on my time in Mozambique. Here are some of the things I've learned over the past two years:

- To appreciate a freshly raked quintal. You don't even know how much work goes into raking the sand into pretty patterns at the crack of dawn.
- The art of mandar-ing children to do things I'm too lazy to do, like buy bread at the market.
- That mangoes might just be the fruit from the Garden of Eden. There's nothing more delicious on a hot day.
- That double ply toilet paper is luxurious. Enough said.
- That high speed internet is a blessing, and life is possible without YouTube.
- That patience is indeed a virtue, and a necessity in Africa. I'm talking about meetings, ATM lines, bank trips, ordering food at a restaurant, everything.
- That personal space is a first-world concern and being crammed into a chapa with 20-25 other people is no big deal.
- That standing in the back of a rickety pickup truck with 40 other people, while uncomfortable and terrifying, is sometimes the only way to get where you need to go.
- That African children are so creative despite their lack of resources. Wire trucks and plastic bag kites? Recycling at its best.
- That these children will do anything for the chance to color.
- That anything I don't want to be collected out of my trash pit needs to be burned immediately. (See previous blog post)
- To tolerate or otherwise defeat a variety of pests including lizards, bats, rats, cockroaches, ants, spiders, and scorpions.
- How to get somebody's attention by hissing at them.
- To diffuse the advances of creepy men in Moz.
- That busting out a few phrases of local language at the perfect time, will make people's day.
- That no matter what I do, I'm the crazy mulungu so I might as well take pride in it.
- That I'll never be able to scrub stains out of my clothes as well as my empregada can.
- That it is impossible to keep sand out of my house.
- That African women are amazing! They can carry heavy-ass things on their heads for long distances without even breaking a sweat, and do all the housework while the men sit around.
- That because of these gender inequalities, Mozambican girls have no self esteem and no awareness of their full potential. They don't just have to grow up to be mothers and domestic slaves.
- That the way things should work aren't necessarily the way things do work and that it's not up to me, as an individual, to change things.
- That Mozambicans don't call me Chinese or Japanese to be offensive, they just don't know geography.
- That marriage and fidelity mean nothing in this country.
- That HIV still carries so much stigma, and nobody talks about it.
- That corruption is omnipresent (in schools, in the government, in the workplace...)
- That there is a huge job shortage in Mozambique, and well-qualified, hard-working youth remain unemployed because there is no job turnover.
- That family relations in Africa are complicated.
- That killing, plucking, and preparing a chicken is a lot of work. I'm really going to appreciate being able to buy pre-packaged chicken at the grocery store.
- That Mozambicans are so generous with everything they have even if they don't have much.
- That when somebody offers you a chair and food, it's impolite not to accept.
- That I'll never truly understand what it means to be poor.
-That the color of my skin automatically provides me infinite advantages in life.
- That death is a part of life. Children here die of malaria, malnutrition, so many things that would be unimaginable in a first-world country.
- That when Mozambicans schedule something, they really mean two hours later than what they say.
- That when somebody calls you and then hangs up on the first ring, it's because they're cheap and want you to call them back using your phone credit.
- That sometimes, it's necessary to take more than one bath a day. Or skip work and just sit in front of the fan.
- That "truth" is not always a black and white concept.
- That people will complain about the weather no matter what.
- That I've spent a lot of time stressing about work and "productivity" when I should have been focused on building relationships with people.
- That I may not have changed the world, but I have changed the life of at least one person in my community.
- And that this is enough to make my time in Moz worthwhile.

Thank you, Mozambique, for everything.
I love you.