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.