Ready.

I only have one more week in Rwanda.

Most of the students know my name and I know many of theirs. I can correctly pronounce the majority of Kigali's neighborhoods and give decent directions. The moto (small motorcycles used for public transportation) drivers no longer get more than the fair price for the trip from the office to my house. The man with good tomatoes at the market expects to see me on Sunday mornings. La Sierra sells the best, and some of the only, whole grain bread in the city and Ndilo’s supermarket has the cheapest peanut butter. I can run for hours without getting lost and focus more on the morning fog hugging the hills than on the stares from people I pass. I’ve taught dozens of classes, started an internship for students, and initiated a few other projects at Orphans of Rwanda. Kigali, while it still holds mysteries and unknown corners, has become comfortable and provided a good group of friends.

For all those reasons it is time for me to leave.

I came to Africa to be challenged, to throw myself into situations that were foreign and uncomfortable. The first month in Rwanda met that desire. Backpacking through Uganda brought plenty of those kinds of situations. Over the last few weeks, the strange and new have become the familiar. I feel more irritated than humored when merchants try to charge me double or people assume I can’t eat a plateful of bananas and beans.

It would be easy to stay in Rwanda. Kenya, however, will be quite different. Rusinga Island is remote and very poor unlike my current home in one of the nicest and safest African cities. I look forward to the new surroundings, different language, and opportunities to feel out of place. In Kenya, I get to once again learn without asking questions. It’s a thrilling experience to rely solely on my wits and the graciousness of strangers. I’m glad I get to go through such an assimilation process again.