Leaving

Receiving my gift from counterpart at my going away party

Dancing with council member, Manuel

Dancing a marimba dance with my village chairman, Adriano

A 5am self pic with Roseann and JJ

Today was my last day in Blue Creek. I was all packed up, had said goodbye to my friends and colleagues in the village, and was mentally prepared to be on my way home, only one thing separated me from that journey...my old friend and nemesis...the river. For nearly a week straight, the river has been running over, rather than under, the bridge in Blue Creek. At some points people, trucks, and buses have been able to pass and at others we have been left to stare at each other from different banks as people stare at a camp fire when there is nothing else to focus on. Jeff left on Friday morning to take care of some last minute business up in Belize City, my friends left on Saturday morning, and both times the river was low enough for the buses to pass. On Sunday (today), however, the river stubbornly refused to go down quick enough for my arranged ride to get across as some more rain clouds rolled in. I started to panic, thinking that I was going to be stuck in Blue Creek, not get to say goodbye to all of my fellow Toledo Volunteers, and would have to call Peace Corps to order a helicopter to get me out.

My friend Michael stood on the other bank with the vehicle that would be my ticket out of the village. The river was just low enough for people to wade across the bridge through the rushing water, but not low enough for a high-centered truck to go through. I started going slowly through the swift, thigh-deep water and Michael started across his side. I was going to tell him to go on without me, that I would arrange another way out, but when he reached me he said that he refused to leave me there and that he would carry my bags across. I tried to convince him that my huge 55 pound rolling suitcase was a bit much for wading across a slippery flooded bridge, but he seemed determined. He grabbed my massive suitcase and equally heavy backpack and I grabbed my laptop and a few random bags of stuff that I was giving away. We marched down the river, took our shoes off, and began shuttling my parcels across. My counterpart saw the show from the other side and quickly waded in to help, with assistance from the chairman. At one point, four people were carrying my things across a bridge that was flooded nearly to my waist. We made it the other side and I said some quick goodbyes to my friends, and we were off.

The rain is coming down hard now as I sit in Punta Gorda in my air-conditioned hotel room. I imagine that the bridge never did come down all the way. I am sad to be gone, but it is not quit real, not yet.