"I will go to Canada."

I am currently sitting on my bed in the mansion in ACP Estates in Pokuase by Emma and Doc's house. I have left Asamankese potentially for the last time in my life (though I hope that that is not true). This week has been one of utter chaos in terms of keeping my mind. We have had to say goodbye, very quickly, I might add, to our entire life here in Ghana and I have not had much time to process it all since we've been so busy doing last minute packing, tying up loose ends for the program (since we are the last interns and all that), organizing gifts, writing letters, saying goodbye and making some last minute memories with those we care about most. The tears have come and there will be many more to fall as the sorrow of leaving these people is still so fresh.

There is too much to write about if I were to describe all that has happened during our last week in Asamanakese, but there are some moments that stick out more than others, though many of them are painful. On Sunday we went to church with Belinda for our last Ghanaian church service. We all wanted to learn how to make jollof (our most favourite, most delicious Ghanaian dish), so Belinda gave us step by step instructions as we crammed into the kitchen at our house that afternoon. That evening we got a little dressed up, piled into a taxi with May and Belinda and headed to First Stop, a restaurant on the outskirts of town. The music was loud, the food was good, the company was amazing and everyone loved seeing the obrunis dancing. Something to add to the list of odd things I've eaten: a fish eye. Don't do it.

I did my best to capture every moment with the children at school this week. Every time that I had to raise my voice at them or try to get them to sit down or stop beating their friends, I reminded myself that I will one day miss yelling at them. It hit me this morning as I awoke from dreams of those I've left in Asamankese; if I am yelling at them then that would mean that I am with them and that is all that matters. On Monday the rain began to fall just as my KG2 class was supposed to be hunkering down for their naptime. A huge crash of thunder received a large cry of both excitement and nervousness, so I went over to one of the mats and laid down on it with the kids as the rain, pounding on the tin roof, made it impossible to hear anything. A group of about seven students crowded around me as we lay on our stomachs and put our heads close together. I told them how Jesus sometimes speaks in the thunder and as another crash rumbled through the walls, my beloved Mardiatu asked me what Jesus was saying. He was telling my dear kids that He loves them. We then began a series of stories. One child would say, "Story, story," and the others would respond, "Story," which would be the key for the child to tell their story. As I weaved a story for them in simple English, feeling their little hands on my arms and seeing their little eyes all big and attentive, I melted in another moment of pure love for these kids.

Our women came on Tuesday for a graduation rehearsal (which just meant that they practiced their Bible verses over and over again). The women asked us if we will remember them when we leave and that broke my heart. Mama Vida has asked me before, "Sharon, do you love me?" and so I have made it a point to tell them every class how much I love them. I am so incredibly proud of those ladies and the efforts and sacrifices that they have made.

Wednesday, the last day that I woke up in my bed in Asamankese, was one of the hardest days of my life. We walked along the road to His Majesty's, waving to all those who said hi or called out, "Obruni! Buh bye!" and started the school day with worship before moving into a bunch of fun activities that we had planned. Mary, our professor who arrived in Ghana on Sunday, came up to me and said that Mardiatu had asked her this morning," Do you know that Madam Cheryl is leaving? I don't want her to go." I turned away from Mary, unresponsive, as a piece of my heart tore away and seeped out of my soul in the form of tears, the same tears that wet my eyes even now. We played games with our students, took class photos, gave them lemonade for the first time (gotta love Crystal Light packages), put Canada tattoos on their hands and threw a frisbee around the courtyard. We left after lunch to say goodbye to people in town and change into our kaba and slit (traditional, formal, Ghanaian dress) in preparation for the graduation. Upon arriving back at the school, the kids went crazy seeing their white Madams looking Ghanaian.

We stood in front of the students during the closing assembly and at Rita's signal my KG2 children ran into my arms for a last, big hug and the tears started to fall as I gazed into their faces for the last time. As they began to pull away and move towards the bus, I called Mardiatu over and picked her up, asking for one more hug. I have never felt her arms cling so tightly to my neck as I carried her out to the bus. The closer we got, she began to repeat one sentence, "I will go to Canada." Trying not to let her see my tears, I told her that she needed to stay here and she couldn't come to Canada with me, as much as we both wish that she could. Her response was the same and her voice more earnest, "I will go to Canada. I will go to Canada." As I put her on the bus, fairly having to push her to go and trying not to see the sadness in her eyes, I heard one final, "I will go to Canada." We waved until the bus was out of sight and even though the ladies were already gathering for the literacy graduation that would start in ten minutes, I covered my face and wept. Maybe someday she really will be able to come to Canada. Maybe someday I will come back and find her here in Ghana, but for right now, the pain of saying goodbye makes the thought of stepping onto the plane tonight unbearable. There is more adventure ahead for  myself, my students and my women, but they will be lived separately and I can only pray that God sees fit to entwine our adventures again one day. I don't know what the future will hold, but for today, the adventure of traveling back to Canada begins.