On Mail and Making Friends

... Except me. I said that. I encouraged package sending while I was in Mali because, let's be honest, everyone loves to get a package. And it's that much better when you feel lonely and you're hating on your hut and you just want some gummy bears. But when getting ready to leave for Zambia, I told everyone not to bother, backed myself up with very rational excuses. My P.O. box was rarely given out, and I've gone the last 8 months content with my decision. There are grocery stores here, after all.

Until today. Sometime in March, my mom told me she'd put a small Easter package in the mail. I was perturbed. I whined about how long it would take, how difficult it would be to pick it up, how expensive it must have been.... What?! I plead temporary insanity. Today, I received said package. Nothing out of the ordinary... good candy, a small notebook, a nice smelling candle, and an Easter card that said "I love you." Reading that, munching on JellyBellys, I remembered that getting packages during my service was never really about what was inside (except for a few desperate cases), it was about reading a silly hallmark card and feeling the message, about knowing that someone went to the trouble of picking out those specific things and putting them together just. for. you. Those packages were reminders that I had people who believed in what I was doing when I didn't, reminders that I am loved. My mom, of course, knew that all along.

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It's been a very, very long while. I have a backed up list of things to write about and no reason for not writing about them. Hopefully I'll soon flood this thing with those posts. For now I'll make due with some photos. Since the last time I was on here, I hopped over the border to stand on top of the world for a few days...

Dune 7. The streak of blue on the horizon (left side) is the ocean...

On top of Big Daddy in Sossousvlei park

and made some new friends.

Later in the month, World Malaria Day happened

There were also speeches but, honestly...

the dancers were my & my camera's favorite.

Adorableness repping Mama Safenite bednets

And I saw a rainbow late at night

I've also been saying too many goodbyes. At the beginning of my time here, a friend spoke of what a Peace Corps friend of his called the beautiful sadness, or some such. When you lead a transient lifestyle, whether abroad or in your home country, you meet travelers of every kind. Tourists, backpackers, expats with intriguing scars and even more interesting stories. It's fun to find these people, exchange "this one time in ___" over a few beers. Moving through the stream of people, you are bound to find a few that you connect with on a different, indescribable level. You may have similar life goals, personal philosophies and insights, or maybe you just laugh constantly when you're together (those are my favorite). You find a kindred spark in someone else, and it's wonderful, beautiful. But, as at least one of you can't seem to just settle down, the time you have is always too brief as you each continue on where you're headed. Therein lies the sadness.

Sifting through memories of friends that I've made and let go in the last 3 years, people I've bonded with over weeks, months, years,  I'm comforted by the idea that you never really say goodbye. You might not see each other for years, but - wandering as we do - your paths are bound to cross again. Maybe that's the beautiful part.


A few interesting things...
Even on a Peace Corps stipend, I'm still in the top 15% richest people in the world
UNICEF's new ad campaigns...
Great post by a journalist I met, Imani Cheers, on how we use cell phones in the fight against malaria in Zambia
Most importantly, making these made my week. It may not be hard-core Peace Corps, but I love having a kitchen.

Peace & Love
Elyse