Besides a one hour delay on our flight from Addis to N’Djamena, we had no issues with our travels. We flew out of Kigali on the redeye flight, 2:25am – ugh. Luckily the ungodly timing made it easy to sleep on the plane.
I’ve now been “home” for a couple days and it feels weird. I’m back in the place where I’ve been living for the last 8 months, but I’ve been away from it for almost a month and I will only be here for another two months. It’s great to be back with the people who have come to be family for me this year, but I can’t say I’m thrilled about the 110 degree weather I’ve stepped back into. Also, it’s been a strange kind of welcome when all the women I’ve seen have “complimented” me on how much weight I gained on vacation. Apparently “welcome home! Wow, look how fat you’ve gotten!” is considered a friendly way to greet someone after a long absence. Friends at home, feel free to not repeat this pattern. And of course, I’ve also got a nice runny nose and sore throat here to accompany me as I readjust to life in the desert. Today I even threw up for the first time in Africa, so I can add that to the list of things I’ve done overseas.
Yesterday I called home in need of another pep talk. Perhaps the most inspiring words actually came when Dad told me about the speech given at my sister’s graduation. [side note: Michelle graduated from Davenport University with HIGHEST HONOR this weekend. I’m more than just a little proud]. I don’t remember the details well, but the gist of the story was that the speaker (we’ll call him “S”) had once been selected for some prestigious award by an important guy (we’ll call him “IG”) he had never met. He couldn’t figure out why he of all people would have been selected, but the important guy shared the reason for his choice. One day IG was visiting S’s college, unbeknownst to S. IG happened upon S’s basketball practice where the team was running suicides (line-to-line sprints; the bane of all athletes’ existences and coaches’ favorite punishment drill). S was not the fastest or the slowest, not the strongest or the weakest player on the team. But what caught IG’s attention was that S was the only one of the team to actually touch the line every time. S didn’t know anyone was watching, and evidently he could have just as easily gotten by had he cheated just a little, as the rest of his teammates apparently did. But it was touching the line, going all the way every time, even when he didn’t know he was being watched, that got him recognized in the end. And that, my friends, was the story I needed to hear yesterday.
With just a few months left, the “what’s-the-point-of-me-even-being-here” doubts are sinking in heavily. The heat isn’t helping, and the easy choice would be just to sit on my bed in front of my fan all day for the next two months. But that would be selling myself short. I came here to experience this place, its people, and its culture, and I’m not going to get that by sitting alone in my room. We’re nearing the home stretch, and I’m ready to give it my all, whatever that may look like. I still have so much to learn and I don’t want to get home and wish that I’d done more. So it’s time for me to start running, and to touch the line every time. [note: this is a metaphor. It’s 110* here, if you recall – I will not be doing any actual running until I’m back in the States. I’m not that committed to aerobic exercise]