Dávid from Zambia – XXXVI. Blog Post

Heading Home. But where is home?

Greetings to the newest members of the group, and a big high five to everyone else! As I write these words, I'm sitting in my room, packing my clothes into my suitcase. We're getting ready for our trip back to England on Tuesday morning, to the CICD. We've reached the project closing period. The last month of the program, which is probably the hardest emotionally, but also the best.

So… here we are, at the end of my last African adventure post.

Yesterday, my team and I went for a "farewell visit" to the Kawama neighborhood. I'm not really a fan of goodbyes, and many people feel the same. It's one of my biggest weaknesses, as I tend to be too sensitive in this area and prefer to hide my feelings rather than fully experience them. That's also why I often say, "See you soon," instead of "Goodbye" or "Take care."

However, yesterday I decided that this is nonsense. It's a part of life, and it's time to let go of that foolishness. The story will only be complete if I allow myself to feel what comes and let go of what's leaving…

...

The community in the Kawama neighborhood is made up of young mothers and adult men. This is where we spent most of our time during the African project, and it's also where we formed the best friendships. Over the past six months, our task was to unite different groups, strengthen them, and together bring about positive changes in everyone's lives, guiding them toward a more self-sustaining and healthier lifestyle.

With the little experience I have, I can confidently say that Zambian people can be incredibly honest and grateful for even the smallest things. But yesterday was different. It wasn't just about saying goodbye and experiencing emotions; it was about real, deep gratitude. I mean, real deep gratitude.

They specifically thanked us for everything they learned from us during the semester and for everything we did for them. That moment will stay with me forever because it was the first time in years that I saw genuine, heartfelt gratitude on someone's face. The truth is, I had almost forgotten what it feels like to truly be grateful for something... Yesterday, I had the chance to relearn it.

...

At times like this, many thoughts cross your mind: Did we do a good job? Was this semester enough to set them on the path to change? Is this the right direction? Did we set a good example for them throughout? What happens now? Will everything be okay for them even when we leave?

According to the feedback, the answer to all those questions is "YES." Yet, we still feel like we haven't done enough. We didn't do enough because, for us, as "white people," this is no more than "basic." It's basic because we've always had the opportunity to do this, simply because we were born on a luckier side of the planet. That's it. It's that simple.

It's basic and normal for us to be able to learn. Not only that, but we can also choose what and how we want to learn. It's basic and normal for everything. Comfort, prosperity, clean drinking water, a wide variety of food, the freedom to pick and choose between options, and much more.

I don't want to sound hypocritical. In a few weeks or months, I will probably fall back into European life. I'll probably grab a bite at McDonald's from time to time, and I'll soak up the hot shower on colder days, not caring about how many liters of water I'm wasting. Yes, that will definitely happen.

And in a way, that's how it's "supposed to be." No, it's certainly not "right," but that's the European reality. And by acting differently, we won't change much in Zambia. At least not as much as we should.

However… now I've seen the reality. Not the one they show on TV. Not the one with the photo of an emaciated African child to raise awareness about the continent's problems. No, I've seen the reality that's happening here, right in this country, before our eyes. In the slums, in extreme poverty. The reality no one talks about, no one writes about, and no one shares information about. Why? Because it's much harsher than anyone could imagine from a few news stories.

This reality was enough for me to plant a seed in my head and try to act sensibly against this in the future. And why? The answer is simple: I have the means. I have everything I need for it. Just like you. Just like Europe. Anyone who has ever seen Africa and lived among the locals will make different decisions. If they don't, then they walked around with their eyes closed.

Five months ago, I was asked a question in one of my posts by a member of the group. I couldn't answer it at that time, so I just wrote, "Ask me again in five months."

The question was: In my opinion, what are the biggest, most striking, and shocking differences between Europe and Africa?

• Luck and inherent rights.

• That's my answer.

For me, that's the most shocking…

...

I've been on the road for three years, wearing out shoes and backpacks. I've learned a lot about travel and the world. Not enough, but a lot… and one of the biggest lessons is that when you have to leave something behind, when you have to close a chapter, that's one of the hardest challenges for most travelers, including myself… but it still doesn't compare to the feelings of those who stay behind in these situations. Those who remain in the place you're leaving behind, where you've only left your footprints.

Now, we're the ones leaving.

We've left our footprints here, and it's our guys who remain.

A few months ago, my friend Katalin told me, when we were talking about African challenges, to "prepare myself for the fact that when I leave Africa, I will probably leave a part of myself there."

In my last post, I said that we were eager to go home. But now, we all feel that we don't want to go anywhere. We just want to stay.

I think yesterday I finally understood the significance and emotional importance of the phrase Katalin often quotes.

I already miss everything. The cacti, the giant palm trees. The avocado, mango, orange, and bananas. The locals' always happy faces. The love and warmth of the people. The quality food. The colors and the stinky smells. The dirt and the radishes that sometimes devour everything. The little innocent, jet-black-eyed, strong, curly-haired black kids. And of course, the sound of flip-flops, the laughter that we heard behind us every day… from that, we knew the little ones were hiding behind us, shyly signaling that they wanted to play with the "never-before-seen white man."

Yeah… I'm really going to miss this.

All my life, I've never found my place anywhere. I've always been restless, always had a wanderlust. I've been curious… and I still am today. I never believed that the world was only as much as those around me said, nor that the happiness offered by "society" and the various "made-up" opportunities would be enough for me. I never found my place in that world: I didn't care about money, career-building, and deep inside, I hated the materialistic world's "offered possibilities" too.

In most cases, however, "people like me" are quickly, albeit unofficially, ostracized from every corner of society. The result of this is usually that the person is soon overwhelmed by the feeling of homelessness. I've suffered from this feeling for years. It had a very toxic effect on me, and somewhere deep inside, it even hurt my soul.

But yesterday, I managed to find the antidote, essentially the answer, which is an ancient saying, almost a cliché, but it was still very relevant for me. "Home is where the soul finds peace." I think I've found a new home. I've had quite a few already… but it took time to see them and claim them as mine. In many different countries, in many different cities, and now even on another continent, I "live" in peace...

Although for me, there is only one real home, luckily, there are many homes.

With this, I have an answer to another of my questions!

Our Zambian story ends with this post.

Thank you to everyone who has accompanied me and my team on our adventurous journey since the beginning. Thank you so much for reading! Now, I'm going to finish packing!

Next time, I'll check in from England, in a few days.

Goodbye Zambia, Goodbye Kawama Community!