Leaving Kate Behind

After a slow, relaxing morning at the hostel, drinking instant coffee and filling my rumbling stomach with watermelon, oranges, and amazingly enough, toasted whole-wheat bread (an anomaly in Africa!) smothered in fresh fruit preserves, I made a final sweep through to check for forgotten items and in excited anticipation said goodbye to Kate. My drinking buddy, the girl who I can always count on to share a shandy or a box of South African red with. The girl who started this trip terrified of malaria and who provided me with a daily tally of her latest bites. The girl who has pushed me to be a more compromising, tolerant person, a friend who I’ve shared some of the most memorable days of my life with. It’s a challenge to find someone who you can travel well with, and despite the stubborn Taurus in both of us (we share the same May 19 birthday) and the tense, irritating moments when we’d both push each others buttons, we made a dynamic pair. I was sad to leave her behind, but the promise of home sprinting towards me helped to negate any lingering pangs of sentiment as the bus rolled off down the Arusha-Moshi Highway.

4 months ago driving between Nairobi and Arusha I remember relishing in the golden landscape of acacia trees, vast open grasslands, a setting crimson sun, and the colorful specks of Masai herding their prized cattle. The scene yesterday was identical, but its magical intensity had faded. A scene that I had once been stunned by, overwhelmed, and embraced by was just another landscape of the African bush. It’s beauty dulled by its normalcy. But still, it’s that vision of Africa that I love, the romantic dream of Africa that has always pulled me to this continent. That’s how I know I’m ready to go home. The spark, the glimmer, the excitement, and the magic have faded. I feel like wrapping up into the anonymity of a cocoon and hiding from a world where I will always be a muzungu, a walking dollar sign, a person to be started at, and a curious novelty. Not only have I started dreaming about Taco Bell and California Pizza Kitchen, but the sense of relief I will feel when I step foot into the Washington D.C. airport, and will simply be another face, another traveler, just one amongst the crowd. Saying this however, it’ll probably be a week at home before I long for the magic of Africa.