Third week already?

I’m just realising that it’s Friday (Fez Bar Fridays, hell yeah). I’ve spent majority of my time in Zambia, and have only two more to go. Only two more until I get back home. Back to our classroom on the 5th floor, studying about the development patterns of middle schoolers. I love what I study, but I can’t lie. I don’t want to go back.

I’ve found family over here. I’ve found an amazing roommate and some crazy friends. All of us together at dinner is like having a UN meet, sans the chaos and the mind games. It’s such an easy going place. Oh, the house moms with their chipperness every morning, and their enthusiasm while baking muffins for us at night so we have a nice breakfast. All the accents and the jokes (Because the girls from New Zealand say Dick of Cards without fail, and we always laugh). The taxi drivers and their antics, being either super cool or just assholes. Ah, soccer club and the children just running after the ball.The pre drinking games at Sunbird, and the absolute mess that we leave this place in. The hanging around in the garden, hungover from Friday, and then the nice lunch people make for us. Pizza Wednesdays, Gelato everyday. Tokojani, whose name means talking, but he never talks man. The kid never talks. Ah, Marshall and his general cockiness and flirting, I shall not miss at all.

P.s. “Call for the devil and the devil appears” is a very real thing. Marshall turned up right now. Fuck.

Ah, back to the topic. I’m going to miss Zambia man. I’m going to miss my kids playing with my hair and braiding it, kissing my hand and giving me high fives, telling me that they love me. I’m going to miss Mathew bullying others and having to make him work, or Sarah’s kindness and intelligence. I’ll miss Coni’s cute smiles and Chyongo, my little gangster, always trying to draw something for me to mark and give him a star. Ah, my kids, they are a handful but they are amazing. Everyday I walk 7 kilometres, but the moment they greet me, it’s alright. I feel bad for them, for they deserve the same upbringing that I received. They deserve to have some amazing teachers and cute books, their stationary being their favourite colour and break time being about playing in their garden. I wish they weren’t confined to one room, all of them, having to do the same things everyday, with broken pencils and one eraser to share. I wish they didn’t have to cry, because all the thorns on the ground keep hurting them. I wish their benches were sturdier, their blackboard cleaner, their lunches healthier. Oh, my kids. Only if I could change it all.

Oh, the courteous people of Zambia. Be it Paul from the Big 5 making sure I was okay and then taking me for ice cream, or the extra sprinkles on my drink at Kubu’s. This place it magical. There’s so many problems, so many issues they need to fix but none of that deters the people from stopping for a minute and asking us, “Good morning, how are you doing today?” Oh, the big heart.

I wish I didn’t have to leave. But instead of wallowing, I’m going to make the most of my two weeks here. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure I leave as a tad bit better, and a happier human being.

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