Signs that your Peace Corps service is coming to an end

The Rhenish Mission Church in Keetmanshoop, 1895

The past several months have FLOWN by!  In just one month, we will officially be RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers)!  I’m trying desperately to wrap up everything (in my power) before the time expires, which apparently also means pumping out a few more blogs while we are still here.

How do you prepare for the end of your Peace Corps service?  I have no idea.  All I know is that I have an interesting cocktail of emotions floating around inside of me at any given moment: excitement for our upcoming travels in South America & ticking a few more things off the ‘ol bucket list (not to mention, sharpening up on Spanish again); sadness at saying good-bye to our closest friends – fellow volunteers and Namibians alike; worry that our poor dog is going to be permanently psychologically traumatized from her Trans-Atlantic flight to America (yes, we are adopting the pup for good!  She’ll be an African-American soon); anxiety about the work we’ve done here – will some of the projects continue?  Did we do enough?  Did this matter?; happiness with the anticipation of being back home in our beloved Austin, surrounded by our family and friends again; stress about finding jobs, buying health insurance, cars, and all the other grown-up stuff that comes with living in America again; somberness at the fact that we will likely never see some people in our community ever again; guilt for leaving my students behind – I get to return to a 1^st world country, they don’t have that choice.  And on and on.  Oh, there’s plenty of things to feel right now.

And yet I’ve noticed a few subtle hints that maybe it’s time to go…

•  Everything is breaking.  For example, our laptop charger.  Luckily I was able to buy a universal charger (25% of our monthly salary later…) in town.
•   The plug for our washing machine, and incidentally the socket as well, exploded last week.  Back to hand-washing.  [Note: most PCVs in Namibia DO NOT have a washing machine.  This was donated to us from a friend.  It was fantastic while it lasted.]
• Our iPod and portable speaker were stolen.  Or maybe we donated them to the community.  Forgot to take them back inside after a braai & of course they were quickly snatched up
• Our pillows are so chunky, that sleeping is now becoming a challenge.  These were the most expensive ($3US) pillows in town.  It’s not worth it to buy another round.  Chunky really is the best adjective for their current state.
•  Speaking of sleeping, we can now feel the springs in our mattress poking into our backs after 2 years of use.
• All but three of our bowls have broken.  Our knives are so dull that cutting a tomato is a real struggle.  There is other kitchen drama – basically, everything is operating on its last leg.
•  Our space heater only has one bulb still working.  This heater was key to our survival last winter, especially during the freezing cold nights (no central heat anywhere, of course).  Now we look like Wildlings from the Game of Thrones, walking around our flat covered with blankets from head to toe.

Ok, so some volunteers live in mud huts in the north and would scoff at this list.  Fair.  We’re definitely not suffering. Just taking in the signs that maybe it’s an appropriate time for this journey to end.  When the can-opener failed open a can last week, I just smiled and mentally added it to the list.  It’s going to be hard to leave, really hard.  But, I guess the time has come. In the mean time, we will try to savor everything, knowing there will never be a time or a place like this again in our lives.