Belonging

A ten-year old urchin would bound across the field, exhilarated with the feeling of an antelope's swiftness, the agility of a flea, and the stealthiness of an F-117 Nighthawk. He would scamper through the woods all day, wishing night would delay its onset. With an insatiable appetite for sports, knowledge, outdoor adventure, Legos, and food, what importance did something so drab as school have? He could outrun any classmate and most who were several years older, which increased his potential playground popularity. However, his mind guaranteed that he'd be the bane of his peers. But he didn't yearn for school. People intruded his space, the classwork was more dull than a comedian's awkward-silence-breaking joke, and he earnestly believed his time could better be utilized studying the 358, 626, and 940 sections in the Dewey Decimal system. Solitude was his dominion and where he wanted to be.

Upon watching Wes depart from Kigali over two months ago, one memory returned to me. Just over four years prior, I migrated from of life of knowns to the frontier of Walla Walla, where the nearest person I knew lived 1800 miles away and felt a light-year away. Now here I was, the foreigner trying to survive in Rwanda, a land where I didn't speak the first or second language, perceive the customs, comprehend the government, or know where to find a decent restaurant. Only the restaurant conundrum had been present when I descended upon Walla Walla. You can imagine my distress in both instances. More importantly, was I welcomed here in the heart of Africa?

In my house, I rarely suffer from coziness or cramping. Most days, it's as bare as a minimalist's living room. Although emptiness fills the expanse, if anything arrived to occupy a corner of my quarters, it would completely oust me. With nothing to hinder me, I am free to reign over my domain. Is a soaring glider comfortable in the firmament? Is a colobus monkey at home in a tree? So I am in my abode.

A mere stroll away, I know of another home, quite different from my own. Free space is scarce because 130 kids are squeezed into a space designed for 100. Hues of a tropical reef remind me that life isn't only green or brown. Screaming, laughter, and Lady's excitement to see me (Lady is the director's dog) exude a vivacious atmosphere, where life represents more than a job and a house. Victor welcomes me and always tells me to return soon. Here I belong as much as in my own house, provided I make the effort to walk.

Walla Walla, SSL, Malawi, Rwanda: four chapters in the anthology of my life. At each I have felt lonely, abandoned, and distraught. But I have fond memories of each because of one lesson I must consciously and perpetually practice. I must choose to be one of the people as much as the people choose to accept me. Anything less would be hypocrisy.