Close of Service Conference -- Already!?

This is a photo of Moz 19, my training class in Mozambique, as we swore in to become Peace Corps volunteers at the end of our ten-week training in 2012. At the time, two years in Mozambique seemed like an eternity to me. Would I be able to live here for that long? Could I stick it out? I wasn't sure.

And yet, last week, Moz 19 had our Close of Service conference, which marks the beginning of the end. Two years have flown by, and now I find myself thinking, "Will I be able to go back to the States" and "How am I going to leave this place?"

The conference was a very emotional time, because it was the last time we were all going to be together -- during the actual close of service process in November/December, only a few volunteers go through the process in Maputo at a time. On the last day of the conference, we finished our sessions early and went with Custodio, everyone's favorite Peace Corps staffer, to enjoy ourselves at the Feira Popular, which has bumper cars and a swing ride, among other things. It was a bittersweet night; everyone had fun, but after a while, people slowly started trickling back to the hotel and out of our lives forever.

First thing he ever said to us: "Hi, I'm Custodio. And I'm awesome."

 After my first year of Peace Corps dragged on like nothing else, I can't believe how fast the second year has gone. It's funny to remember the things that I was scared of before coming -- bugs, heat, loneliness -- and finding that those things don't really bother me anymore. (Seriously, as I write this it's over 100F outside and I'm comfortably wearing long sleeves.)

I remember having a complete breakdown upon finding out where my site was -- I cried so much that Custodio, upon walking by me, looked very uncomfortable at the sight of me sobbing into Veronica's dress, and awkwardly said, "Well... OK... I'll just come back later..." Now, I love Mavudzi to bits -- my students, my friends, my colleagues -- everything. Whoever replaces me is one lucky duck.

I remember getting to my house, an empty, sweltering concrete box, and thinking "Oh no... what have I done!?" Now, this house is filled with the ghosts of so many memories -- good memories, bad memories, funny memories, powerful memories -- and seems anything but empty to me.

I remember walking into the conference room during Staging in Philadelphia, and being overwhelmed by all the other prospective Peace Corps volunteers, thinking "Who the heck am I to be in a group with these people who have their lives all figured out?" Now, those people are my closest friends, with whom I share everything, and I have my own life much more figured out -- so much so, apparently, that my colleagues voted me "Most Likely to Be Country Director of Peace Corps Mozambique in 20 Years". (Um... what? But, hey, thanks!)

From the original 68 volunteers in Moz 19, we lost 11 volunteers because they had transferred here from Cape Verde and had only one year of service in Mozambique. We lost several others for various reasons -- family emergencies, medical conditions, dissatisfaction with Peace Corps or Mozambique. 49 of us made it all the way to the end, and I wholeheartedly congratulate each and every one of them. A few are even extending their time, an option that I seriously considered and ultimately decided was not for me.

Here's to you, Moz 19! We did it!

Two Years Later

From here on out, there are a lot of "lasts". Some of them are very sad (The last time I will ever see some very important people), some of them are stupid (The last bar of soap I'll ever open in Mozambique), and some of them are great (The last time I'll ever have to ride a chapa!)

So what are my plans from here on out? Short-term, after close of service, I'll be traveling with my closest PCV friend Lisa (dune-surfing in Namibia, safari-ing in Swaziland, and exploring Capetown) before flying to Germany to spend a (hopefully) white Christmas with my family. I cannot express how excited I am to celebrate a real Christmas, with cold weather, warm fires, family, hot chocolate, and snow.

After that, I'll return to Texas for a while, awaiting the results of several job and scholarship applications, and I'll start living the rest of my life.

Weird.