May 9, 2011
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So my “to do” lists are getting smaller, with more things being crossed out…getting ready to leave soon.
“I am not white, I am strawberry!” I said defiantly two weeks ago in the Kombe, as we were on our way to Friday night church at Cajueiro Claro. Whoever wants to go meets in the center of Paudalho by 6:30pm. Flavio tells everyone to be there by 6:15, but we never leave before 6:45. I was tired of all the remarks of how white I was, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them. One more thing for them to laugh about. Laughing is fun. But sometimes, I just want to be taken seriously.
Last Friday they threw a goodbye party for their strawberry. Me. In the small town of Cajueiro, there are three main families that are a part of the church—the rest of us come from Paudalho. Those three families brought the most beautiful cake, snacks, desserts, and soda. It was delicious. Even more was that the church themselves did it. The consensus was that may be American, but I have a heart of a Brazilian.
They stood up in the front of the church and bragged on me until I turned even more strawberry than before. The kids had made a poster for me and everyone signed it. We sat around with the music in the background and I knew it was a moment…one of those moments where you are cognizant enough to realize that these are the moments of our lives—the ones worth living, and that I will treasure forever.
I am only leaving for three months—if everything goes as planned. Brazilians are always looking for a reason to celebrate. It is really neat to be on the receiving end of that. Sinte sua falta: “We will feel the lack of your presence.” And they really meant it.
It was a very special time with a beautiful cake and all the new friends I have made this year. I’ve become a part of this group that squishes into the Kombe and rattles over the bumps to Cajueiro Claro. How incredible it is to be a part of something. When I was surprised by the party, I realized I was receiving so much more than I gave. Something about being celebrated makes it all worth it. All the walking. All the kid’s attitudes. All the little hardships. It was like a big sigh and breath and “Oh, so this is why I do all this. It really is worth it.”
And when I look at it realistically, I leave often—this whole going back and forth. And for it to be specially celebrated…caught me off guard. Wow. And there are others who do so much more. And for so much longer—I gave what—a semester. A semester and they open their arms to me. Edi was already close to tears about me leaving. Lucas wrote me a letter. They threw me a party. I am loved.
