Update 11:

I wish that leaving a country, its people and the friends that you made along the way got easier as countries visited multiply. The truth is, when standing on the cold asphalt in front of the Vancouver International Departures Terminal seven months ago, I bawled my eyes out. I had made quality friends, friends you can count on, and I was leaving. They said I'll be back, that I'll see them again. I hope that I will. Today as I sit writing this (on the way home), my eyes start to well with tears. Somehow (for dignities sake) I force myself to control the waterworks, people here would think I am crazy (maybe you do too). I have made some really good friends, shared unforgetables and experienced memories that will last a lifetime. Through this course of becoming a seasoned traveller, I was hoping to graduate to an experienced departer.

I feel however, that everytime I leave a place, I leave a part of me and in turn I take a part of that place with me. It's not a bad thing, it's just the way it is. Experience has learned me that within a few days the sadness disappears, I will have found a new home, or a new activity, or perhaps the pain of saying goodbye lessens as the joy of saying hello overtakes.

At this stage, saying goodbyes and hello's are far from over, they are just getting started. I wonder then, if I do leave a part of me everywhere I go, will there then be a day when I don't have more to give? Will I reach a threshold and have no more to give, a day where I will be unable to say goodbye again? Or is it the other way around, since I take a part of the place with me, my memories increase and experiences accumulate, do I instead grow and therefore have more to give at each situation that I encounter? I have hoping for the latter option.

I can never say for sure if I will again someday see the people that I have met. Chances are not high that I will be able to see each and every one. There is an inherent sadness in saying goodbye and realising that it actually most likely is a goodbye, and not an à la prochaine or a see you soon. I try not to sound fatalistic, and I know the world is a big place, and that throughout the years lived there will be opportunities to see them again, but the odds are not that high that I will have a second chance to see every single person met at a later date.

To that effect, to the MSF Bunia team/family: I humbly thank you. What I learnt most in the past three months was not technical, it was not logistical. What I learnt from you was how to live with people from different cultures, people with whom I had language barriers, people who I ate two to three meals a day with, hung out with after work and those I worked with. I was confronted with strong and independant personalities, challenged by them, by language barriers and personality clashes. Did I fail once in a while? Sure did. Was I the best I could be everyday? Unfortunately not. Did I learn from the lessons? I believe so. Thank you for teaching me, and for having the patience when my eyes and ears didn't see and hear clearly.

I learnt more about MSF as a whole than I expected and less about the technical domain than I had anticipated. I also have the belief that perhaps my technical abilities are actually better than I have given them credit for, and while there is always room for amelioration, I probably am well equiped for MSF's requirements. So it turned out that this mission followed the last couple of years and led me further down the path of personal/internal improvement. COOL.

Sadness in leaving is dissipating, Geneva, Vancouver and Canada await. Life goes on. The world beckons, I hither.

Update 10:

Three months ago I was sitting in this seat in Geneva composing a hurried update to inform you that I would be leaving right away for the DRC, that I was sorry for not getting the chance to say bye for now. Today I am writing this post with the knowledge or at least the intentions of seeing most of you soon.

I am heading back to Vancouver on Wednesday the 23rd, getting in at 16h25. Any takers to pick me up??? It's bad timing for rush hour, so I might just take the bus and skytrain out to Coquitlam.

But the update:

I left three months ago with my usual mentality when I travel. I try not to research too much before heading out. I try not to make expectations or to imagine what I will see, or what I would learn, I like the surprise. Three months later I have an idea about the Congo and the Congolese, about MSF, and more about me. Can I quantify it in one posting? Can I make it interesting or even readable? I haven't yet processed it all, and as my sister wrote me "Sometimes only 1/3rd of what you learn traveling actually occurs during the time spent abroad, it take returning home and and processing the data to learn the remaining 2/3rds" so this posting contains only the highlights of my time in the Heart of Darkness.

- Giving blood to help the Medics save an infants life, twice. I already put a post on this, so I won't elaborate, other than to say that the second time is just as special.

- Watching a cesarean. Those who know me well know that I am fairly squeamish. So why would I subject myself to watching such an intense surgery? I feel as though I have to confront my fears so that they no longer remain a fear. Did it work? Hells no. This was real fear, I starting sweating that awful cold sticky sweat, my mouth dryed up, I couldn't breath, all I wanted to do was rip off the facemask as it was seriously suffocating me, I was too hot, I got dizzy, there was a period of at least two minutes where my eyes were open and yet I saw nothing. I saught solice in the cool of the concrete wall. Cut, cut, stretch, stretch, pull, pull, snip, snip, sew back up and sew back up. 25 minutes later, she was already in the process of recovery, the baby crying and me whimpering. In all fairness it was by far one of the coolest things I have ever seen. I know now though that if someday I find me a wife, and she needs a cesarean, I know which end of the operating gurney I will stay at. Thank you Dr. Claudine and Dr. Claude, I will never ever forget that experience.

- Seeing a baby in an incubator, I think that two of my fingers and my thumb would have had the same mass. Without MSF this baby would never make it.

- The honour of holding hands with another man. Laugh. I did. When I first heard that it is common for African men to hold hands I thought it was so not hetero. It took some time, but when the staff started walking with me and holding my hand, wow, I felt respected, accepted, appreciated, encouraged, and touched. I knew then that I was part of the team, and that I had a friend.

- Learning about MSF, about living within a team, with people with different personalities, with language barriers, with personalities that clash with mine.

- Making friends, leaving an impression of me in the hearts of the people that I met, knowing that my overall effect was positive, being able to have fun, and also being able to work at the same time.

- Spending time on top of the water tower, watching sunsets, reminiscing about the past, listening to my buddy Andrew Hunter's songs about our teenage years, dreaming about the future, loving the present.

Thank You CONGO