sábado, 11 de março de 2017

Thank you so much, zikomo kwambiri.









That's it. It's over. Finished.


A blank page and so much to say. Yet, words feel so little when the feeling is so big. How can I thank you enough, honour you enough, make any justice to what you really are and how much you've represented to me?

Mua, you've honestly been one of the best things I've had in my life. I arrived in a sunny afternoon, full of hopes, projects and ideas. And since that very first day, you've never failed to impress me. You've surpassed all my expectations and brought me so much happiness and life lessons.

In Mua I've learned the true meaning of kindness and sharing. I've learned to share what I have and that it's only fair if we all have the same. But even if we don't, and even if you are aware of that, you'll never fail on being the most honest and kind people ever. In Mua I've learned that life isn't fair, that circumstances take little people away from us and that your days will suck everytime that happens. But I've also learned to cherish life, to fight for those who are still fighting themselves and to not take anything for granted. I've learned that nothing hurts more than telling a mom she won't take her little person home - and there's absolutely nothing you can do to ease that pain. I've learned to help everytime I could and to back off everytime I couldn’t - for as much as it hurts. I've learned that happiness doesn’t have anything to do with the money in your pockets or the size of your house. It has much more to do with simplifying things and valuing everything you have.

I learned that I am very lucky, we all are. Our taps open to let clear water run. Our houses have electricity 24h a day. We all have a kitchen, an oven, a stove. We all have (easy access) food to get busy in the kitchen with. If we get really sick, there will be a hospital within a reasonable distance and amazingly equipped to treat us.

I think about it and all my thoughts get tangled. There is so much I miss, I can't even phrase it in a logical and understandable order. I miss the smiles, the giggles, the endless laughter. I miss waking up and starting the fire to prepare my coffee. I miss the birds, the silence, the peace of those mornings. I miss getting out of the house and not being able to walk 200m without greeting at least 10 persons. I miss the walks to the market, the lady in the little shop and all the kids running around me. I miss Christopher and the woodcarvers, with all the questions and the cultural lessons. I miss Sobo, nsima, eating with my hands. The big market and all the vibes that it brings. I miss the hospital, the morning meetings, the endless discussions over patient's cases, the chats with all the awesome nurses, the joy for seeing the kids getting better.

Since the first day, I missed you. I knew I would. And that’s why I've lived everyday there as if it was my last. Because I knew my last day would come. And I knew it would be hard. "But no one ever said it would be so hard".

Thank you so much. Zikomo Kwambiri. And please take care, will you Mua? I really hope you do well. You and all the people within you, the kids, the nurses, the doctors, the woodcarvers, the people at the village. I hope you'll keep the magic inside you. And that the stars will always shine the right path for everyone who helped me being happy in mine.

Tionana Mua, ndasoa kwambiri *

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