It doesn't take Sherlock to
figure it out, so most of you probably know already that the notes
from under the mosquito net have been suspended for an indefinite
period. (In accordance with an old agreement with Yannis, the use of
the terms forever, never, always, ever, is to be avoided if
possible.)
Even after two years, I
considered myself a rookie, and sometimes had to remind myself that
it was no longer an acceptable excuse, even if I've never been to
Tango Bar on a Saturday or in Cocos on a Friday night.
I somehow realized I knew more
than what I gave myself credit for when, during the last month, I got
to host two (real) newcomers, and suddenly had to look at the world
with their eyes. And remember the (frightened, wide open) eyes I had
when I arrived. And recalling the people who marked my first day
("You won't last 6 months here" guy, whom I wanted to send a
postcard to when I hit December 6, except I neither knew nor cared
about his location at the time, and "You'll be fine" guy, who
probably saved a good number of tears for me, and whom I wanted to
marry after that for a few weeks, out of sheer gratitude), I knew
that I wanted to be optimistic yet realistic, and show them that Goma
being what it is, it takes time to feel comfortable, but after that
one very quickly may feel at ease.
I believe that any two years at
any location, if looked at as one chunk, would show changes in
anybody's life, character, thoughts. It's not location or
profession-specific, even if some places and some jobs are more
intense at times.
Nonetheless, I have to say,
looking at it as one chunk, that these two years have given me the
professional boost I wasn't sure I was looking for. I left that chair
behind that messy desk of mine with more confidence, and, more
doubts. This I believe to be fertile soil for progress. If the "only" result I walk away with is the feeling that I like what I do and that
I'm good at what I do, that's already huge.
And there is, of course, a lot
more. In my line of work it's quite hard to separate work from
personal, because the people are the work, and this must
especially be true in a field location, where the people you work
with are pretty much all you have (with the refreshing exceptions of
Benoit and Aleks). This can get tricky as you know more and more
people in different capacities, and sometimes you feel you know too
much and can tell very little.
But it is so worth it! What Goma
took away in terms of safety, stress, inefficiency, bureaucracy, it
gave back – and much more – in people. People in all colours and
shapes and stories, people I liked or didn't, but who always gave me
the freedom to decide for myself, people who – often without
knowing – pointed out my own weaknesses or strengths, or showed me
a direction I'd never thought I'd be going. People, who, I know,
won't be all with me for the rest of the journey. But some will. And
even those who won't, have put something in my baggage.
I've been back to Hungary for 3
weeks now. I'm still in the phase when I think nobody really
understands my experience, which partially is true, in the sense that
none of us will ever be able to fully understand any experience of
any other of us – that's just being different humans. But it's not
entirely true, because there are people who have experienced
something similar and could relate, if I tried. But I haven't. Part
of me doesn't want to be understood. I want to be special. I want to
make a point of belonging to a different tribe, and unless you've
been in Goma when I was, sorry, your tribe isn't mine.
Childish, I know. It will pass,
I know. Probably part of the Repatriated Expat Blues.
Which I'm treating with the
Passing By method – not staying too long in a familiar place, but
moving on the next unknown. In a week I'll be in the not so United
Kingdom, studying business psychology. Something I probably wouldn't
have done without the lessons learnt and missed during the past two
years. Where that will get me after is again something that time will
tell. I deal with the future when it gets here.
