Paper Dates

-Hazy Sunset-

[From 6 August]

The mountain standing over Image fades to blue-grey in the distance, absorbed nearly entirely into the blue-grey sky. The dust –vumbi in Kiswahili – kicked up by the dry winter wind, combined with smoke –moshi- from farmers burning the remains of their crops, has greatly diminished my sightlines. The mountains to the west of Ilula, behind which the sun will soon sink, are equally veiled in obscurity.

In June, from this same porch, the horizon seemed limitless.

“You’ve started transitioning home.”

This observation, stated matter of factly, caught me off guard. Standing in the doorway to the room I’ve claimed in 3A, rattling off a list of things needing to be done before leaving, I didn’t realize how true that statement was.

The sea of shambas spread out before me, waiting in dormancy until the rains return in December or January, no longer have me in their thrall. In their place, I dream once more of lakes and forests and brats and corn on the cob . . . sights and tastes of a land half a world away . . . as much a home as this one. I think of family and friends and roller coasters and roadtrips and know each safari must have an end.

This transitioning, this pulling out and shrinking of the horizons is arbitrary. It is predicated by a date on an airline ticket and a start date on an academic calendar. Truth be told, if my departure was open ended and my stay indefinite, I’d be surveying the landscape before me with a very different set of eyes. And yet . . . and yet that is not the case this time around. Once again, I'm set to move on.