I wrote this after I first went to Africa 3 years ago, but I felt like I should include it on my blog for the race. I can't really give a reason why though.
I've never been homesick before. In fact, the farther away from home I am, the happier I typically am.
It's been almost nine months since Africa. Almost a year. I still miss it.
I miss:
The people.
I miss my little buddy Ralik, the boy in the oversized, white muscle shirt( and ONLY that). I miss trying to make him smile. Not his fake-"oh, it's a camera" smile. But his precious, genuine, "I am happy" smile. The smile I would get when I asked for his help in taking down the volleyball nets. Or when he decided to show off his own tree climbing skills by hanging upside down off the branch I had just climbed down from.
I miss the different ways boys, many of whom only about 13 or 14 years old, would try to trick me into marrying them. "I have many cows. You will come home with me and I will share them with your family." I miss trying to come up with ways of turning them down so that I would be honest and still not hurtful.
I miss driving down the pothole filled roads just to hear children screaming, "KOWIGA!!!KOWIGA!!!" and come running out of the bushes or a filthy waterhole, waving and screaming. Then watch them turn towards each other and start jumping up and down, cheering because we waived at them. It was like we were celebrities. I guess, in a way, we were.
The taste.
Of fruit off the shea trees (think shea butter).
Stoneys (kind of like Fresca, but not).
Drinking an ice cold Coke from a glass bottle (Cheers, Michal).
Chipotes with peanut butter. Rice and beans. Chipotes with shaved mint chocolate sprinkled on. Rice and lentils. Plain chipotes.
Let's just say there's something about chipotes.
The sounds.
Sitting in church on Sunday morning. Straining to hear whoever was speaking. Only to have them drowned out by the sounds of nearby drums and loud singing from the Dinka service held just outside the English service's concrete building with empty spaces for a doorway and windows.
I miss the sounds of the bat's wings flapping just a couple feet above my head in the middle of the night. Wondering if he would, for some reason, decide that I was a good landing spot.
I miss waking up in the morning and hearing the sounds of bugs. Soft music playing in the back of the compound.
I miss being called "sister." We are brothers and sisters in Christ and yet how often do we acknowledge that? How often do we walk up to someone and say, "Hi, Sister! (or Brother!) How are you?"
Again with the sounds of children screaming "KOWIGA!" I do miss that.
I miss the sounds of Freedom Square.
I miss the sounds of our voices as we slip into a slow speaking pattern with a weird accent when speaking with people. Being asked, "how are you?" and instead of replying with an "ok," you go back to proper English and say, "I am fine."
I miss hearing people laugh. At us, with us, for us.
I miss hearing the serenity that is Africa.
The sights.
The lush greenery.
Smiling faces.
Wide, curious eyes.
Naked children running around.
Lizards slipping by you in quick flashes.
Giants bugs. Strange bugs, ones I'd never seen before.
Colorful clothing.
The sky: at dusk and dawn. During the thunderstorm-gorgeous bursts of lightening.
I miss turning off the light at night and seeing my flashlight light a path along the concrete floor of the room to the pink bedding on which I slept.
I miss seeing modern technology in a place of B.C. existence.
I miss seeing tight connections of a family everywhere I went.
I miss having to look at the tails to see if it's a goat or a sheep that I'm looking at.
I miss seeing massive pigs lounging in sewage.
I miss the openness.
The smell.
Once you become accustomed to the stench of dirt, sweat, and something else- possibly the smell of rot~ of people literally rotting away.
You find a new smell.
The smell when you first wake up in the morning.
The wet, rusty, metallic scent when taking a shower outside.
The smell of food cooking.
The smell of uncorrupted air.
Of simplicity.
The feel.
Of waking up in the morning with the soft morning dew blanketed over me.
With soft light piercing through the screen of the window.
Of dirty, dry, sweaty hands when you meet someone for the first time (or second or third if it's a small child).
I miss the warmish water coming down from the outside shower.
I miss the excitement, wonder, and awe of everything.
I miss feeling calm. Even when I was frustrated, I still felt calm.
I miss the feel of peace.
There is an indescribable feel about Africa that makes it so wonderful. And I don't think I'll ever find the words.
I do hope, that someday, I might return.
By the way, in case you're wondering I was in Rumbek, Sudan. Which is in the southern part of the country. I was working alongside a few members of my church as well as some Journeymen from IMB. We held sports clinics; volleyball, basketball, sportsmanship, and bible stories.
