First Month

I write this entry from our typical spot on the super comfy chairs outside the Fine ArTZ Gallery in Karatu, where I am alone with Bill, sort of, for the first time in over a month. This is our third day off since beginning our work at the RVCV and we've spent all three of them here. We are alone, sort of, because one of the volunteers, Maggie, just finished her term here and left the Village yesterday for Arusha with a couple of other volunteers and Debbie for a bit of a last hurrah before her flight back to the States. Additionally, one of the staff members is on vacation currently. So there's somewhat of a wazungu shortage at the Children's Village this weekend. Today, Bill and I were the only ones who opted for the Galleria, a bit of peace and privacy for which we are quite grateful.

Bill and I will miss Maggie dearly. I feel as though all of me hasn't truly gotten the clue that she's not coming back, and that all of that information will settle uncomfortably in my mind once I detect another bout of cattiness in the dynamic or an unsavoury conversation arises at the dinner table and I have no peaceful Maggie face to settle my eyes on for the moment like some Holy Mary statue to offer me solace. But the reminders that she is gone are all around. I spent the better part of an hour yesterday comforting a teary-eyed girl named Hadija who was ultimately upset about a housing change situation, but first would only admit to missing Maggie during my 5-10 minute "why are you crying?" question-and-not-necessarily-answer session intro. Then, last night, I went over to Manyara to watch a movie with the girls and it was [the first half of] Enchanted. Plus, here at the gallery, they keep playing some country song about a breakup she fancies. Though I haven't fully admitted that she is gone, the image of the painful expression on her face as she gave her hugs goodbye is very real in my memory. It's a helpless feeling, watching someone you care about go through a very natural and painful process of transition, especially one that involves saying 70 or 80 goodbyes after spending half a year in a Children's Village. Maggie has a lot of great things to look forward to in the States: a family to whom she's deeply attached, bathtubs, pizza, her bed, the ability to walk around outside with no shoes (or Crocs [with socks]) on, privacy, peace, choice, and an ever hardening sense of accomplishment for finishing what will surely be one of the most memorable chapters in her life. The list, I'm sure, could fill pages, and though I may think of her often over the remainder of my time here with a sad expression on my face, I am happy to know that she is at home, surrounded by the people and who give her love and strength as she positions herself for her next amazing chapter. I will remain grateful for the small amount of time during which our stays at the RVCV overlapped. Maggie, if you are reading this, thank you.

Another person who will be leaving somewhat soon is Salama, about whom I've written before, quite recently. Salama has been a source of strength for me in ways I did not anticipate on my way to the Children's Village. I think together we are an example of different people who can find common ground and enjoy each other's personalities and experiences without the hang-ups I'm finding with the younger crowd. Salama is sharp, open-minded, honest, incredibly compassionate, helpful, and just a pleasure to share space with in the Volunteer House or at the Library with the kids. Bill and I are both very fond of her and will be sad to see her go.

Before leaving to come here this morning, I talked to her about a problem with my knee I was having, the emotional strain it was putting on me, and the fear I had of it interrupting the responsibilities I have there at the Village. She and Teller, (I'm not certain of her position's official title), were incredibly supportive and brought my mind some peace. In light of recent events, picking up a couple of extra responsibilities to stay busy and productive was my way of dealing with things, and to be put back into the helpless position of injury was rather rapidly unraveling my calmness. Speaking with these two individuals this morning made me feel a little better, and being reassured that I'm not going to be viewed as some sort of slacker really put me at ease.

It's good to be around good people.

Now: more clouds.