Coming Home.

So I’ve been dreaming about coming home every since I got on the plane to come here. I got here and loved my life, but couldn’t help but miss my family and friends. I’ve spent just over 2 years here and loved many (not all) moments here. Uganda is a wonderful and beautiful place with incredible people. It’s a very different culture from my own…hard to get ‘used’ to, but different all the same (not better, not worse).

I’ll be home early (according to my peace corps agreement) for Jessin’s wedding! I can’t wait. All I could think about for the last couple months was getting home. I even made a paper chain (like young children do counting down the days to Christmas) to the date I get home. All I could think about was the excitement to see America, eat Chipolte burritos and anything cold (icecream, especially).

Then I got my plane ticket itinerary. Now I’m all sentimental. It’s not like leaving college or high school. Colleagues have email addresses and consistent phone numbers. They have parent’s home postal addresses. Here…phone numbers, for who can afford phones, change every 6 months for some reason and a whole school can’t even seem to afford a post office box. Teachers get transferred. People move. Once I leave this place, my Ugandan life is over with the exception of the other peace corps people in my group. That’s a weird feeling. I have about 10 days left and how am I supposed to say goodbye to everyone that’s been in my life for the past 2 years. I’m excited to come home, but I can never have this back.

I’ll just name a few things I love about this place.

1. My house: It’s a love-hate relationship. I get tired of birds during the day and bats (pooping everywhere and scaring me), spiders (making webs to run into) and cockroaches during the night. But I love sitting out on my porch staring into the school garden of matokkee (plantain) trees. Cooking on my sigiri (charcoal stove). Sitting on my stool. Sleeping in my bed under my mosquito net (creating a barrier between me and the night time critters). Silence (with the exception of the crickets living in my door frame).
2. My pit latrine: I know I’ve given it a hard time in the past, but when feeling sick and other people are around, being as far from the house as possible is a blessing.
3. My boyfriend: Ahh, I love him. He’s probably what got me through this, but I’m taking him home with me.
4. The people: No one can dispute the fact that Ugandans are accommodating and helpful whenever you need someone. I’ve never known a Ugandan to turn any request for help down, even in Kampala (where I often need someone to walk me to the taxi park despite how many times I’ve been there).
5. The culture: African time is quite the opposite of American time. Well, not just quite…exactly the opposite. That never got easier. But they have a culture that they are very proud of that and many parts of it took me a long time to understand but the longer I spend here, the more appreciation I have for it. The ‘time’ one is really really hard though.

I complain about ‘time,’ but I must point out that all the things I hate are also somehow loved and many of the things I love are also somehow hated.

This experience is one I could never regret or forget. I love the time I’ve spent here, but I’ve realized that I’ve learned as much as I can in my two years. I’ve loved the people and the culture as much as I could. It will be missed and I’m sure I will come home as a socially abnormal human being since I’ve become used to social and culture norms here. I’m sure there is even a difference in my language. They (as in peace corps) say that going home is the hardest part of the whole cultural transition. It’s an odd concept to get used to…we can adapt to an entirely new culture easier than adapting back to our own. I’m nervous.

Well, I fly home April 9th so I guess I’ll be home next Friday. I’m excited, but it freaks me out.