Returning

Washington, DC is at it's most beautiful at this time of year. Spring has sprung and between rubs of my itchy eyes I am repeatedly awed by the Natural world in this area. One of the best things about DC is how green it is, leafy neighbourhoods, tree lined avenues, circles that are parks, and a multitude of monuments, surrounded by trees, lawn and tulips.

Just as DC is at its most giving, we received a letter on Tuesday telling us that we are going home. At last, finally, after three years of being "when-we's" we are returning to Namibia. What I felt when I read the letter was a combination of fear and exhiliration and elation. The latter two are obvious, returning to what I so often, with a slip of the tongue, call Home. Fear, though, I felt fear that this was not true, that somehow it was an elaborate prank. To make myself believe it to be true I sent text messages to those nearest and dearest to me to tell them, my mother, father, sisters, my two friends who I have been close to since I was 6. Imagine them as they grumpily awaken, look at their phones and then go back to sleep.

I also called my closest friends here in DC. They work at the same place, and they called me back and put me on speaker phone. They were then so ecstatic that at one point I couldn't distingiush one girlish voice from the other. They were so thrilled for me because they are both foreigners in a friendly land too and perfectly understand the heavy sadness that comes from not seeing your mother for long periods of time. Towards the end of the phone call when we three had sufficiently calmed down, they suddenly remembered that this would be goodbye for a time.

So did I. We have no idea when or for how long we will retun to the states, and if we do so, whether we will return to this fair city. Washington has started to feel like a substitute mother to me. I recognize her moods, when she wants to play and there are crowds picnicing and playing frisbee on the mall, which is her heart. I also recognize the windy, grey days in winter where we all rush from indoors to indoors, putting on coats and taking them off again again and again. On when you leave the house, off when you ride the bus, on between bus and Metro, off in the metro, on for the walk to work and then they are discarded on your spare chair till hometime.

There is so much going on in DC that we frequently deliberately ignore her on a friday night and vegetate on the couch to watch Numbers. We have attended concerts, I have seen the hair-raising Tracy Chapman twice, gone to Zoo lectures, frolicked on the Mall and walked up and down 16th street absorbing the chilled Saturday atmosphere.

DC is also the center for places that have influenced my childhood, and then adulthood. National Geographic headquarters are here. So are WWF, CI, TNC, African Wildlife and so many other's. I am still awed when I attend National Geographic events, readings by famous conservationists, photo exhibits, and I get to meet these people! Of course, I would have absolutely nothing to say to them if I had not had my beginnings in Africa, and in Namibia. The Owens blithely told me how they have repeatedly crashed their plane in Namibia, a fact which made my heart warm to them even further.

A charmed life is what we have led while living here and I know, from experience, that even if we move back everything will be different. Which is making me greedy for the life here. I feel that right now I should be riding through Rock Creek park and tonight I must go to the WWII memorial to be enchanted by its fountains. I still have 7 months and some change here, one summer, half a winter and what is left of spring and I want to enjoy the things I have already done, and loved, and still there is so much to discover. One day, when we come back I hope DC will still be the rebellious, integrated and scintillating city that is the soul, when you get past Capital Hill and the lobbyists.

At 1:35 in the morning, my cell phone rang on my bedside table. It was my Mom and sisters. They had woken up to find my messages and were so excited that they had to call me immediately, despite the cost and the time of night, day... whatever. Their excitement equals mine. Soon I will be there, with them, watching the sunset over dusty Windhoek, sipping gin and tonic. Maybe I can teach my family the card game that I play incessantly with my friends here, while we watch the sun go down, and sip gin and tonics. Really, what you love will happen wherever you are, as long as you love wherever you are.

While I write this Abdullah Ibrahim's "homecoming song" is playing. The drums beat like my heart at the happy thought of seeing red sand dunes and smelling the ozone after the rain. The saxophone and trumpet play a tune so that you feel like your feet should be doing a complicated quick step, but somehow there is a mournful note there. The joy of Homecoming will always mean that I am leaving something else behind and Dollar Brand has captured that emotion in this song.