On December 31st, I sat with my eldest daughter on a perfect tropical beach on the magical island of Zanzibar. We watched her dad and siblings heaving sand balls at each other made with famous white Zanzibari sand, so powder-fine that it has the silkiness of clay.
“You know, this time next year, we could be in the snow,” I told her. She looked at me in shock. “Sure,” I said, “Hopefully we won’t be living in it, but we might be close enough to visit it.”
We sat together with our feet in the warm sand and listened to the breeze rustling the palm fronds and let that sink in. A year from now, everything will be different.
In the next six months, we will sell or give away all of our earthly possessions except which fits into several suitcases. Every piece of furniture, our dishes, our car, our dogs. We will say goodbye to people we have known for almost 20 years and roads and beaches and restaurants that have become familiar and routine and ordinary. We will land in a new city where we’ve never lived before and start new jobs and schools. We will find a new church and new grocery stores and clothes that keep us warm instead of cool. We will buy a house and cars and an entire household of furniture.
Everything–everything will be different. I won’t fall asleep to those eerily chanting night-birds; I won’t wake up to roosters. The Call to Prayer won’t be a part of my background noise. All of the electricity coming into my house will be normal and I won’t need to buy an extra long extension cord, just so that I can find the one outlet in the house that happens to be getting enough electricity to power the fridge today. I won’t smell burning trash; I won’t associate piles of roadside pineapples with Christmas; I won’t need to strain yogurt to make cottage cheese. I won’t ride in three-wheeled Bajaj rickshaws; I won’t hang clothes out to dry; I won’t speak Swahili. I won’t visit a tropical island on Christmas vacation.
It’s more than just moving to a new place. It’s like leaving life on one planet and boarding a spaceship for another.
For a while I’ve had the thought, “I wonder where I’ll be this time next year.” But now it is next year. 2020 has come, and this is happening. I have no idea where we’ll be seven months from now. I just know it won’t be Tanzania, and everything will be different.
We spent last week on Zanzibar. It was our Christmas present from grandparents. We walked through a mangrove forest and held sea turtles and rode quads through little villages and snorkeled with schools of angel fish and chased dolphins. Many times, I would turn to one of the kids and whisper, “Capture this moment in your mind.” Because that’s what I was doing.
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| Yes, that is a real, live sea turtle. |
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| And she’s feeding one. |
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| Shopping on the streets of Stonetown |
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| And those are 50+ year-old tortoises. |
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| Pointing out to the kids how the original buildings in Stonetown are made from coral |
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| with our dolphin-chasing boat |
Sandra Bradley
I so understand your thoughts and feelings! I've had so many of my own this last year. We've lived in the tension of being grateful for all of the new parts of life in the US (being closer to family, the fun perks of US life like foods we love, conveniences, etc) and missing what we had come to love about life in Thailand. Living in the tension of the new AND the old is not easy. Grief and transition takes time and patience. Email me in 6 months when you need someone to talk to who understands! 🙂
Michael McDonald
We have been back in the U.S. for 5.5 years now. I miss Russia every day. Some of the things here are better but overall I would rather be back in Russia. This has been a difficult adjustment. The most difficult part is that after 5 years we still have no strong relationships in our home country
Amy
Yes to all of that. It's been almost 6 years in England now (after 12 years in Tanzania) and I would still say my 'home' is in Tanzania and I am just existing here in the UK. Life is easier in oh so many ways living in England and the opportunities for the kids are incredible here. But I miss the simple things…life before materialism and phones and social media and…well I miss so much. Even after all this time – every day is hard and I miss 'our life what was' so much. Sorry – my words aren't comforting…it is going to be really tough and yes, cling on to those memories. But like so many before you – you will get through this and make a new life in a new place and slowly build roots there too…forever changed because of Tanzania.
Amy Medina
sending love to all three of you! Thank you for sharing.