Thursday, September 13, 2007

Parting is such sweet sorrow....


This is our colleague/friend's wife and two children. Englebert's wife gave birth to their third child two weeks ago. The eldest boy is on my lap and the baby in Claudine's arms. This baby has been named Kalisa, apparently after me. Englebert had said they wanted to give the baby my name; however, were having a boy....guess they were lucky that my name is gender 'transferable' in Rwanda. The baby is absolutely beautiful. After holding Kalisa for some time and watching him in his perfection; I found it hard to say goodbye. It is always difficult to leave a place after an extended period of time, especially when you know that the chances of seeing eachother again is very slim. It was especially difficult to leave Kalisa - a new soul I have been tied to by name. I will not get the opportunity to watch this child grow and the likelyhood of knowing what this child's future will bring is limited. As with most of my goodbyes abroad, myself and my new friends throw around the idea of my return, but we all know that this goodbye is likely for good.

How often do 'locals' experience this? How many muzungo's come into their lives for short periods of time, force friendships with the locals and then leave...often without maintaining communication, let alone the return visit they promised? I know I am guilty of this. Is this difficult for them? And if so, how are they able to continuously open their hearts and homes as they have done for us?

1 comment:

Cathy M said...

What an honour to have Kalisa named after you! I wonder what mysterious forces were influencing our minds when we chose your name. Seems a bit more than coincidence maybe :)

These will be emotional days for you as you say your goodbyes, tucking bits and pieces into your heart to take with you. I suspect you will be leaving a bit of yourself in theirs as well.

Perhaps that is why they are so warm and welcoming to their passing visitors; knowing that every individual has gifts to share, and it's not something to hold in the hands, but rather in the heart, which knows no distance.