So long Shyira

The last couple weeks flew by. I knew all of December that I would be leaving Rwanda on Christmas day, but it wasn’t until around the 20th that I really realized I would not see Shyira again for quite some time.
Work at the hospital was pretty normal. The project I was working on, compiling data about patients with tuberculosis, was finally totally completed and gave me a feeling of satisfaction to produce work that would stick around longer than my 3 months. The last time I was in the OR it was hard to be overly meticulous, because I knew it would be a long time, if ever, that I would be doing this again. One of the hardest things to leave behind would be Caleb Jr., the 8-year-old son of Dr. and Dr. King. He had no other guys around other then his father to play legos, sword fight, and sit in the tree house with. I spent many afternoons after getting done at the hospital just pretending I was 8 years old again with Caleb Jr.
As the 25th snuck up, I was both excited and a bit sadden. I realized that I would be able to go socialize with people my age, make money, and have lighting in my room until whenever I pleased. Yet the life at Shyira was simple, predictable, and comfortable, and because of this I enjoyed it very much. As I packed up on the 22nd, I didn’t think about any of these things but just that I was moving on and now it was time again to get to the airport on time, with all my belongings, ready to deal with winter in the northern hemisphere. I had coffee with everyone at the Kohls’ house on Sunday and after exchanging phone numbers and hugs, I got in the ambulance headed for Kigali and said farewell to Shyira.
Christmas Eve was spent with a South Carolinian, who owns a solar power business in Kigali, eating Indian food and talking about this and that. We both had been away from home around the holidays before and it was nice to relax with someone before I headed to Paris.
The trip from Shyira to Paris was long, but nothing unexpected popped up. After 2 flights, 2 trains, and a lot of waiting, I was in Dr. Carole Soussain’s downtown Paris apartment. After a little walking around the city last night, I was happy to be in one place for a short while and be done with my travels. Although the two countries speak the same language, France and Rwanda are a little different.