05/08/04 : Goodbye for now...
Who was it who said that "parting is such sweet sorrow"? If anyone is by chance sitting next to the guy, can you ask him just what exactly is sweet about it? Because I'm at a loss.
Today we hosted our farewell party for the FAWE and La Colombiere students who participated in our broadcasts. We had a barbeque at our house, and about 40 hungry teenagers showed up. Amidst games of darts and an introduction to the fine art of frisbee throwing, I watched as these kids devastated bowls of peanuts and popcorn, leveled plates of brochette, cheeseburgers and potato salad, and shoveled ice cream into their mouths as if it was the elixer of eternal life. It was an awe-inspiring feast to behold. Dr. Atkins, rest in peace, would have been appalled.
Then came the tough part. As the afternoon became evening, the kids sat us down and thanked us for what we had done. Not for the food, mind you, but for their new outlooks, and for introducing them to their new friends who are 5000 miles away. Then, as if that wasn't enough, it got personal. They thanked us for being the individuals that we are, and for caring enough to do a project like this. And for the two hunderd and sixty first time on this trip, Mark, Chris and I sobbed like little babies.
Julien spoke eloquently on behalf of La Colombiere, with such self-assurance and thoughtfullness, I could hardly believe he was seventeen. I have no doubt that he will be a well-loved leader for the rest of his life. Ingrid then spoke for the FAWE girls, and after a few heartfelt words, invited all of her classmates to join her in song. And so, in a reprise from our introductory week with the girls, they sang to us. Sadly, however, this time it was to say goodbye. At one point, I wiped some tears away to steal a glance at Chris, who was so overcome, his eyelids looked as if they were experiencing some vicious allergic reaction. I was grateful for the company.
After the girls had finished their performance, the three of us each struggled to say something even remotely poignant. About the best any of us could do was to utter a quavering "Thank you" before the old lump in the throat halted any more words from passing. Yeah, I'd say it was emotional.
During our final goodbyes, the napkins went as quickly as the food had only hours before. We hugged, cried, blew our noses, wrote down all our contact info a thousand times, and only after their principal insisted, we said farewell. Then, in a homage to the hundreds of kids on the various dirt roads who have so delightfully obliged us, we chased after their school bus, waving and cheering as it drove off.
I'm telling you all this not to pat ourselves on the back, but to try to paint the picture of what it is like to say goodbye to a group of kids who have given us as much of a life-changing experience as GNG has given them. It's as hard as anything I've ever done, and I took the SAT twice. For me, the goodbye was not sweet at all. It was damn sad.
If I search myself, though, the sweet is in the fact that I know it's not our final goodbye. Thankfully we live in an age of advanced technology (see also: GNG) which ensures that I will be in touch with my new African friends via email until they can't take anymore of my melodramatic rhetoric and fragmented sentences. Likewise, I know that I'll be coming back here someday, and that some of these kids will be getting full scholarships to universities in the States. And that's a nice little consolation, when the heartache of having to part ways weighs on you like a ton of bricks.
Thank you, students of Kigali, for everything you've taught me and the profound effect you have had on my life. I can't wait for our next hello.
Posted by gng at May 8, 2004 09:54 PM
