(getting) ready for our journey

It’s that time again. Time to leave one place and move to a new one. We’ve waited eagerly for three and a half years to get back to the Central African Republic. And we’ve been in this current home in Yaoundé for two whole years—the longest we’ve lived anywhere in our married lives (in fact, the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I left MN to begin my linguistics study in 2004).

The other night I got hit with a burst of excitement at the thought of getting back to CAR and seeing, and hugging, friends I haven’t seen since the morning of Christmas Eve 2012 when we left Berbérati all too quickly. The happy part of moving is the going—especially going towards a place that is familiar and people who we love.

Happy as we are about heading eastwards a week from tomorrow, there are the inevitable pains of departure. And in spite of how long we’ve been waiting, there just isn’t enough of anything—too few days to pack, too few evenings to spend hanging out with friends, not enough space for packing our stuff.

The last week will be busy—as full as possible of packing things up, saying goodbyes, spending a little more time in this city and with the many people here we have come to love. The going is exciting, but the leaving—as always—will be sad. Since I’ll probably be too busy to get on here again before we go, here’s something by Rabindranath Tagore to mark the event:

I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure.

Here I give back the keys off my door—and I give up all claims to my house, I only ask for last kind words from you.

We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could give. Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.