Expat or Pro-pat?

Pinch me - Am I really home?  When in Africa for the 5 months, I was referred to as an expat; meaning a person who is voluntarily absent from home or country.  When I first heard the term, I thought it meant ex-patriot…and I was like, “Hey I love my country!”  Do you hear the whistles, fireworks, and drums in the background?  While I was walking up the airport ramp at my finally destination, I looked up and hanging above my head was the good “ole red, white, and blue.”  Honestly, I welled up with tears and was filled with such gratitude of having had a safe journey and a wonderful home to return to.

In the wake of my excitement, I had conflicting emotions because the 5 months in Mwanza, Tanzania felt like 5 years.  Entering my second week of the mission, it felt that I had all ready been there for months.  I immersed myself in work to combat fears and homesickness.  It didn’t take long to absorb the rich culture and feel at home.  The spirit of the children is amazing.  Their eyes speak volumes and are the depths of their souls.  They are exceptionally proud of their country and they have a thirst to grow in learning. 

 I was honored with one last send off celebration the night before I left at Morning Star Secondary School.  Father Raymond Manyanga gave a beautiful mass that was followed by a well-orchestrated celebration conducted by Sister Yulitha, the teaching staff, and the students themselves.  Evidently, the students had been preparing skits, songs, dance, and drum routines in the schoolyard throughout the week.  I was overwhelmed with a floodgate of emotions.  The best Hollywood directors could not have designed a better evening or portrayed the emotions that were expressed in the student performances and presentations of gifts.

So, here I am in the comfort of a beautiful bedroom at 2 a.m. in the morning.  There are no bats rolling in my ceiling or a mosquito net covering my bed. The silence is deafening because it is void of howling dogs or lizards jumping on the tin roof seeking balance with their long nails. How will I wake in the morning without the mosque’s cantor chanting the morning prayers, or the kitchen staff clanging pots and chopping wood to prepare for the 150 student boarders, or the students themselves as they sing their morning prayers at 6 a.m.?  As I attempt to sleep their beautiful voices resonate through my thoughts and their magnetic smiles are well imprinted in my mind. 

Sister Yulitha, Morning Star students and staff - thank you for a most memorable send off celebration.  The lessons that you have taught me are immeasurable, and I look forward to sharing them with my future students, my family, and friends.  Thank you for sharing your wealth of love and kindness.  We are a faith community forever tied with a warm history.