My time in Nairobi has felt incredibly lonely after an emotionally draining few weeks. In a way, I guess it’s good that I’m here by myself. The solitary time has provided the canvas needed to mentally prepare for Juba, sleep off some of the sadness I’m feeling, stuff my gills with culinary delights that only Nairobi can offer, and get myself on track for the challenges ahead in Sudan.
My last weeks in Mwanza were brimming with goodness, in the way I guess most things do when you are about to leave a place-you make a checklist of all the things you’ve been taking for granted, become more present to the small joys you appreciate every day, and realize and recognize just how happy you really are and how wonderful the people surrounding your world can truly be. Parallel to this was the elusive departure date for Juba-trying to make time for myself to process through the transition but also spending time with the important people in my life; trying to let go of my attachments and start saying goodbyes; attempting to create some healthy mind space for my post in Sudan. It seemed the more I reveled in my Mwanza world, the less of a reality Juba felt. The ever-changing departure was mentally a bit difficult to manage. I felt jerked around. Overwhelmed. Stressed. Frustrated. I was treading water at work to finalize projects, only to find out that my start date had been delayed by another week or so. Per usual during looming times of transition, I felt like I was hanging from the proverbial mental thread.
This anxious state was easily remedied with a long weekend to Zanzibar for the annual music festival with some great friends. It was the perfect mix of ocean and sand; great company, good food, fantastic music. That island is just such an intoxicating place–you get off the plane and exhale and realize you’ve been holding your breath for months. The anxiety evaporates instantly. Your shoulders drop. It was a perfectly-timed weekend away of sunshine and afrobeats and great memories.
Otherwise, my goodbyes in Mwanza felt impossibly hard. One would think that by now, the constant uprooting would make leaving more manageable, more natural…that we grow accustomed to these goodbyes as part of the expat lifestyle, and we adjust and adapt and move on and we’re fine. But what I realized this past week was how the bizarre world that we function in as expats replaces a lot of the milestones we’d typically share if we had a more conventional life. Friendships fast-forward at an unbelievable pace, replacing first homes and weddings and first babies. These friendships shape our reality, form our temporary worlds. We form attachments to people that are probably more characteristic with adolescence. Our relationships shape our entire experience and serve as a mirror into who we are at that moment in our lives; they are a snapshot into our existence. They reflect the person we have grown to become.
People you’ve known for only a few short months suddenly fill the voids of family and friends back home; they understand you in a way most people can’t simply because they can relate in a unique and genuine and ever-so-real way. This connection, this security you feel. It’s the support that keeps you going, that keeps you sane. It’s relationships of unconditional acceptance, never-ending patience, tolerance, kindness and honesty. And when you are forced to cut the cord from these people in your life, move on to your next assignment, the enormity of the loss seems crushing; a part of yourself that you’ve grown so dependent on…a bond you never expected to feel…is ending. And that is what makes leaving so difficult. Walking away from these people that you’ve grown to love and need in your life-people that have exited your world just as quickly as they’ve entered it.
So, as I sit at a coffee shop, drinking my third delicious cappuccino of the day, I reflect on my time in Mwanza with incredible tenderness and love and know that I’m an unbelievably blessed person to have those people in my life. They showed me a world that was filled with beauty and kindness and love, and it’s those sentiments I will pack away with the rest of my luggage and carry with me as I embark on this next adventure, and know that no matter where I am on the globe, I am never alone.
