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I am seven days away from leaving Malawi.

It's weird.

I can't believe my two years are essentially over. I moved out of site last week -- in the process transporting myself, two backpacks, a suitcase, a grocery sack, a purse, and a box containing five cats on public transport. Naturally there were twenty-six full-grown adults in the minibus (think the size of an American minivan) plus your assorted toddlers and babies. I sat on the engine with poor Gizmo and her four kittens in their box on my lap. She did not want to get in the box, and my landlord and I were forced to corner her and manhandle her into a maize sack and then into the box. He was all for just tying up the maize sack really tight, like a full-body Ace wrap, and while that would have been easier to handle I don't think Gizmo's previously coddled psyche could've taken it. Once we got to Mzuzu and I surreptitiously unveiled the cats in my PRIVATE ROOM (purchased for this very reason), they were ok. Then I handed them off to the lovely Chelsea Mertz, their new guardian, who reports that they are doing well and that the kittens occasionally have hiccups which is "effin adorable".

The rest of moving out was a funny process. I'd been avoiding taking pictures in the village for the past two years, because whenever you get out a camera you're hounded by iwes (small children) and adults who want you to get their snap. I've promised untold numbers of print-outs to total strangers, whom, I'm sorry to say, will never receive them. But it's hard to feel bad when you just took it because it was the only way to get rid of their drunken harrassment.

Anyhow, I did take a bunch around the village. I promise to bore everyone with long slideshows when I come home, but I don't have the patience to upload them now.

Otherwise, it was a lot like moving out of college. I felt tremendously wasteful getting rid of so much stuff, but there was no way to efficiently get it home, so it had to go. Many a volunteer benefited from this, AND those lucky souls got to eat the rest of my American food! (Those dried beans from Central Market are truly amazing-- add garlic, cumin, an egg or two, and you've got some great bean burgers.)

Then I told all my neighbors they could come over on Tuesday morning and take what they wanted. Weirdly, my curtains were in high demand. I was dumb and did not specify a time, which means they showed up at 5.00 am (of course they'd already been up for two hours) and CLEANED HOUSE. One lady took my coffee cup -- with the coffee I was drinking STILL IN IT. Also gone when I blinked was a half-eaten can of cat food that I'd bought as a special treat for the Gizmo-girl. Unclear whether or not whichever neighbor took it knew it was for cats, not people (although there are probably higher sanitation standards for American cat food than for Malawian people food).

Honestly, I was much sadder than I expected to be. For long segments of this two years, I've just been waiting for the day I could return to all the people I love most (and, to be honest, reliable access to hot water). But for these two years, I've also had a defined identity as a Peace Corps Volunteer. That has often been frustrating--as when all my neighbors took my last visits as last opportunities to ask for money -- but it has also been easy, in the sense that I haven't had to think very hard about whether or not what I'm doing is worthwhile (I'm pretty sure it is). Now I will return to the land of delivery food, but also to an unclear future.

Also, though I haven't made the close Malawian friends that I hoped to, I did make a home here. I had a coffee cup that I used every day, a firewood-collecting strategy, a favorite bucket (blue Arkay), and a routine. And I was truly sad to leave some people -- my friend Paul Mkandawire, who is crippled from polio and came to check on me every time I was sick, my tomato lady Mrs. Ntchungwe, my deputy headmaster Mr. Phiri, the incomparable Tamala and Maebo (both six years old and big fans of American nail polish -- pink, natch), Mr. and Mrs. Safari, the glorious Khunga family, my students, and probably lots of people I'm forgetting -- luckily none of them will ever read this blog!

And, of course, I can't believe I'm saying goodbye to a lot of my Peace Corps friends. It's easier to stay in touch with them than with Malawians, of course, but who knows if I'll recognize them once they've showered and gotten haircuts?!?! A clean Peace Corps Volunteer is a COSed Peace Corps Volunteer.

But is leaving Malawi itself difficult, you ask, you many thousands of dedicated readers? .......Not particularly, actually. There are many individuals here that I respect and admire, but I couldn't take much more time in this culture. Not only is it very different from my home, but in many ways it contradicts my own values. And, while I will happily eat nsima anytime it is served to me, I have no desire to eat it ever again. It is, however, one of the most beautiful countries I have ever had the good fortune to visit, and I'll really miss waking up to that gorgeous lakeside vista every day.

Plus the political situation here is getting sticky-- I can't write about it here, because it's still a Peace Corps blog, but if you ask me about it when I get home I will talk your ear off.

Can't think of much more to write, except for future plans: traveling from here to Istanbul, and then wandering around for a few weeks until I meet the Watkins/Harts/Umphres in Rome (and baby Hal!!!!!!! for the first time!!!!!!!), then home. A few weeks/months at home, applying to grad school, figuring out some way to make my Re-Adjustment Allowance cover my cheese budget, and generally starting over.

I'm signing off here. Thanks for reading!