My village knows how to celebrate. Three-hundred people dancing and smiling, Bamaamas cooking for their villages around orange fires, making barrels of chibwantu (traditional maize drink) to sustain everyone from evening to morning to the next sunset. Words of genuine gratitude were spoken. There were tears and goodbyes. There was a moment, after hours of speeches, songs and skits, when all eleven headmen with whom I worked to build our community health post lined up to face me. They each thanked me individually, touching their hearts with one hand and shaking mine with the other. I knew every one of them well, and I realized what these two years were for. If nothing else, it was about the meaningful connections I made with people in my village and the moments of community collaboration that happened when we were working together.
A week later when it was almost time to leave Nachibanga, there were a few important people to whom I wanted to give gifts and sit down with for just a few more moments. One of these people was the 72-year-old headman of Chinene village, who worked tirelessly day after day to build our health post, sometimes with only my sister Ba Judy and our builder to help. There was a funeral in his village right before my departure, and though I spread the word to my friends in the village that I would love to see him if he had time, I accepted that I would not see Basibbuku (headman) Chinene before I left. As the sun was going down on my second to last night, I saw a small older man walking up the hill towards my house being lead by my host sister. It was Ba Chinene, and I unconsciously yelled out loud, "You're here!!! I'm so happy!"
This kind of thing tends to happen in Zambia, when you want to see someone and just when you accept that it may not happen, you pass them while biking, see them on a bush path, or find them walking to your home. I offered him a chair, and we sat down. I gave him the collaged card I created, the photo I printed of him holding a shovel mixing cement in front of our half-completed health post, and the solar flash light I decided to give to him as a small token of my appreciation. He read the card silently, and spoke words of gratitude in Tonga. He reflected on our hard work together, and on his initial surprise at how a tiny woman could work like a strong man. He then paused, looked at me with his blue eyes affected by cataracts, took my hands in his and said in English, "I will never forget you. Never." My heart felt like it broke into a thousand pieces at having to say goodbye to Basibbuku Chinene, and simultaneously felt full of love. Love for this whole experience, for the people and places that have served as my home and my life for the past two years.
