A last day

There are some days that Malawi is unforgiving, especially in hot season, and especially lately when everything seems to be in short supply.

My last day was another rollercoaster, beginning with a well-intentioned but unreasonably early phone call at 4:45 am. The sun was baking by 7, no power to make coffee, no power to print photos at the shop next to Game, no power to print my travel itinerary at the office—but fortunately enough power to shop for shoes at Mr. Price.

Final signatures, hugs goodbye. A queue spilling onto the sidewalks of Shoprite for the latest rare commodity: soft drinks. What will Malawi do without Fanta? The country is also out of forex and fuel. A marriage proposal at the veg market, including an invitation to Mozambique to learn Portuguese. On the hot, cramped minibus ride, my seatmate asked: How long have you been in Malawi? When are leaving? Did you like living among Malawians? When will you come back? Questions I have answered dozens of times in some form or other.

I joined Alex, sun burnt in a twelve-hour queue for diesel, and we managed to walk the length of City Centre 6 times for water, cash, jerry cans, and assistance jump-starting the truck. Back at Nature’s Gift, Wibke and Jessica had taken up work in the medicinal garden, mulching more paths and giving me hope the project is in good hands.

On my last run, kids yelled at me from a mango tree; another group of boys tried to run beside me. After two years, I still haven’t found a zen response for this, only impatience.

I watched the sun set over the empty maize rows and Kumbali forest, took a final bucket bath, gorged myself on Indian food and good company, and—accepting there must always be unfinished business and unsaid goodbyes—put down the pen.