Nov. 25/13

My worst fears came to life, not two days after my 18 birthday, I have to leave home. Though it happened in a way I didn't expect. I chose it. I asked to be sent away rather than to scramble to try to produce the necessary paperwork which would have been late as is. Yesterday evening, as I sat eating my dinner, I realized something, that had been persuing me for a long time, but now I know why.

A while ago, my dad was in the running for a prestigious position, that would require us to move back to the U.S. When I heard about it, I fealt a little tug in my heart. So I encouraged, and even pushed my dad to apply for the position. And he did.

His interview came and went. And the feeling was growing within me. A month passed before we heard anything more. The interviewer called back. He said that he didn't usually let people know when they were out of the running, but that he fealt led to.

Even with that news, the feeling in my heart went undampend. A feeling that wether my dad got the position or not, it was going to impact our family in some huge and unknown way. 

I heard my dad say, last night; that they were selecting the person that would be put in that position. So in a way, I was right. Not in the way I thought I would be, and not in a way that I could have predicted. I'm sad that I have to leave Africa, but it's the right thing to do.

My brothers took the news the worst. I'm sorry for that. If it happens that I don't see you again, please know this: there is no place, rich or poor; no where in all of creation, where I would rather be than with you. I'm sorry for this. It was the right thing to do.

Nov/20/13

I started packing at about 5:30ish this afternoon. It's 9:27 now. Plans have been made, I'll be boarding a plane Monday. I'll arrive in DC where I'll meet my grandparents and possibly cousins. From there we'll be taking the Amtrak to Michigan.

My new home.

The simple fact of the matter is that I'll never come back home. This is a hard thought to swallow. Yes, I may live with my parents again, but it will never quite be the same.

This is going to be hard. I have already calculated that in 15 days from Nov. 25, I'll break down with my fit of home sickness. You guys keep track, I'll post when it happens. 

I'm already starting to miss them, and I still haven't told them that I'm leaving. But I must be doing well with this because dad said he thought he might throw up at the thought of sending me off. 

This'll be hard.

As with the first part of today, you'll be seeing this a long time after it has happened.

How to stop worrying.

1.) Look at the birds. 

2.) Look at the flowers

3.) Remember that God loves you more than either of them.

You'll be FINE.

Oh, it's because I'm white. isn't it.

I have a hard time remembering (for some reason) that in Botswana, white skin automatically equals loaded with cash. 

And I am by few means wealthy, spiritually being the exception.

I don't understand this prejudice, few if any of my clothes are still yet untorn, and I don't dress up in collared shirts like the Afrikaaners; I hardly ever even wear shoes!— as opposed to the Afrikaaners who almost always wear military-grade boots. They keep their hair short, mine is long. They all speak Afrikaans, I know less than twenty words in Afrikaans!

What more could we have in difference?

Even just today, I went on a walk around the block, which I would have usually done in the evening; people were trying to sell me stuff left and right! Puppies, gym equipment, CHICKENS!!! 

I know that the only reason is that I'm white, and it almost hurts.

Now while it is true that I don't have any black friends (in Africa), the reason is all the same: The only reason that people wanted me to be their "Friend" was for monetary (or sexual) advances. I really did try to overcome that obstacle, but their minds could not be changed by fact: their opinion had been made.

I tried though. Which is more than I can say for my brothers who were always either monetarily taken advantage of, or caught in the middle of brawls.

I don't understand. I really don't understand why people refuse to look beyond the skin, I am just as human as they are; and I'm a little upset that they are behaving this way towards me especially because they would be aghast if one of them had done the same to another motswana. They would be furious, and said persons' relatives would forever shame such a person.

It would be like me walking up to a random woman on the street and saying, "Give me your purse," only the difference is that here, she would be compelled to give it. It's madness! I can't adapt to their cultural norm or else I'd get "give-me-ed" out of house and home. But at the same time, this makes me look, to them like an Afrikaaner; which means I'm rich.

I really am upset about this. I think I'll probably take a while and cool off now. But still; why?