good-bye garly

I kissed my village good-bye. It was 2:30am and half the village was in my yard. We had eaten a goat that the health committee slaughtered. I had given away everything in my room and my walls were bare. My cheeks hurt from chit-chat talking, smiling.

Fleeting impulses to pull on the brakes had dissipated. I was ready, ready, ready to say good-bye.

I was ready for the end.
The end of arm-in-arm night walks with Isata to the boutique.
The end of saying "I'm full" and "No thanks" to tea.
No more boring hours at the dispensary, sunburned feet or tireless greetings.
I am done walking through herds of scary cows, noisy sheep, jumpy goats.
Good-bye, good-bye prayer calls, wind storms and plain bread for breakfast.

So long, Mariam with your throw-your-head-back laugh, and Demba who calls me La Binks and Bebe's endless dancing and Njariel's daughter who took two years to not be scared of me. So long, Ly's fancy clothes, Neene Mawdo's funny feet, Bambi's unfinished projects. I will miss when Maam knows I want to say something just by the way I breathe in. I will miss the Jaybo house for their heavy struggles, but strong laughter to balance it out.

I will miss standing in the middle of the market, greeting each woman by name and feeling like I climbed a mountain. Like I ran a marathon. I endured and put myself out there a million times in a million ways and have arrived.

I will miss that feeling of home, of having arrived, despite being in a place as different from my home as one can imagine.

I am ready. Done. Good-bye, so long.