"If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?"
-Meryl Streep as Karen Blixen in the Acadamy Award winning best picture 1985 Out of Africa
But, no matter how hard I try, I can't quite articulte it as poetically and emotively as her.
Though, riding my bike to the district for probably the last time today created a meloncholy and overwhelmingness in my heart that could not be ignored. To think it will be one of the last times I'll ride my bike or see the roadside tropical fruit stands and the water buffalo moving cumbersome, distinguished in rice field after rice field. Or to think that I may never again come upon a random parade, wedding, funeral, or monk ordination just to have it slow down with incalculable curiosity and excitement as I walk or ride by. Undoubtedly, I won't be speaking Thai as near as much as I do here--not to mention the colquial Khmer which I've just started to better grasp. Bucket showers and boiling water on cold nights in order to bathe may seem like a distant dream.
And, rice. Rice will never be the same to me again. Before I came here I only ate it wild and fried. I've grown to really love the fresh un-processed Jasmine Rice that comes straight from the backyard. Not to mention the lucious greens, tomatoes, pumpkins, beans, bamboo shoots, and papayas I have relished in one way or another in main dishes almost every day. Lemongrass, Thai basil, cumin, ginger, cilantro, garlic, parsley, chilis and so many more unidentified herbs and seasons have spiced my life and broadened my culinary experience. In addition to the incredibly available and delicious low cost of food--today my lunch cost a dollar.
Then, smiles. So many of them. They're contagious, you know. Perhaps, I wouldn't have fared and endured as much had there not been a Thai smile just around the corner. I can only hope that my own smile always precedes a meeting or greeting of new and old and that a departure always end with a sweet, lingering, (possibly coy) smile.
How could I forget the personal growth (or shall I say opportunity for it)? It's safe to say there will probably never be another time in my life in which I have seemingly forever to read books and contemplate world hunger, parallel universes, cutting out middle men, re-thinking capitalism, propogate world peace, reject inequality, face my fears, write poems and never-ending letters, sit with my emotions and thoughts, do yoga, meditate, and chant. (There's the flip side of that too--watching movies and T.V. shows, taking frequent cat naps, staying up to late, procrastinating) Actually, I hope the highs and lows will not be so extreme...
Then there's belief. Buddhist study and exposure has piqued my curiosity and enabled me to learn so much more and appreciate many ancient teachings. To understand compassion and suffering, karma and the power of developing awareness. In the very least, it's helped me make more sense of the world, my own concept of spirituality, and how I approach people and situations.
Every personal strife and setback and feeling of success has humbled me, has changed me. And even though it's been hard I wouldn't change anything. Sure, I'll forever be inextricably linked to Thailand but my Peace Corps site experience will soon be over. Two more weeks in country and my 27 + month journey in Thailand will be over too.
I hear friends who have returned to the States already warning me that it feels like a dream--almost like they never left home (like Dorothy and Oz). I'm sure going back is overwhelming and extraordinarily exhausting/exciting but, there's no way I can forget what I've experienced here and the lessons I've learned. As always, I'll have to move forward seeking new experiences and challenging myself.
And, that's my song of Thailand.
But, the question still remains... Does Thailand know a song of me?
Will the children mistakenly yell out "Heidi" or "Chom Phu" at every farang woman they meet? Will my neighbor gaze at the stars at night knowing that we share the same sky? Who will remember that I am not French but American? When the rice is ready for planting, will the villagers reminisce of days past when they taught a girl from a different land of skin white their ancient custom of cultivating and harvesting?
Will someone, anyone, look at their garbage and remember that someone once told them that this plastic glass or that glass bottle can be recycled instead of burned. Who will know not to confuse 'l' with 'r' and 'how are you' with 'how old are you' in the English language? How will people know that I am thinking of them in my mind's past, in my dreams, in my heart?
Who will hum a memory of me when I'm gone??
