Letting go

Listen, Learn, Let go.

11 months ago I let go of my life in the US and arrived in Zambia. In one week I will let go of my life in Zambia, and arrive in Philadelphia.

In the beginning I learned to let go of family and friends, culture, food, efficiency. Somehow that was all ok.

Then I let go of my identity as I thought I knew it, and my sense of place in the world. Harder.

I was forced to let go of expectations, of what I knew to be "normal", "trustworthy", "respectful", "helpful". I've let go of my previous understanding of "poverty", "development", "aid", "love". I let go of ideals, to try to sort through the reals. Frustrating.

Let it go.

It took a while, but finally I feel as though I've let go of the frustrations which clouded me with cynicism and doubt. I've let go of loneliness overwhelming and stunting my sense of self-worth and purpose. I've let go of despair. And most importantly, I've let go of anger.

And here I am. One week remaining. And only now do I feel as though I have let go of enough baggage to introduce a place for Zambia in my heart. Only now can I see the meaning in relationships and experiences. Only now do I see how letting go was an integral part of listening and learning, for myself and others.

And now I'm forced to let go once again. To the things and people I've listened to and learned from. They will forever penetrate who I am.

I say goodbye. Goodbye to students, and friends. Goodbye to guinea fowl and groundnuts, to pounding and peeling. Goodbye to bucket baths and squat peeing, skirts and chitengis. Goodbye to ironic misspellings and strange zanglish terminology. Goodbye to sharing nshima, ofals, sour milk. Goodbye to traditional weddings, funerals, kitchen parties. Goodbye to fetching firewood and water. Goodbye to teaching maths and science. Goodbye to learning tonga. Goodbye to my host dad's firm hand and soft heart. Goodbye to my host mom's laughter. Goodbye to spoons and crazy 8s with my host brothers and sisters. Goodbye to the precious, crusty old men and women. Goodbye to the babies carrying babies. Goodbye to my "home" in Nakeempa, my home in other people's homes, my home in Zambia.

I let go of my life here, so that I can continue to listen and learn from the past, the present, and what is to come.

Nearly a year has passed. I've learned a lot. But mostly, I've learned to let go.