Say why, do we have to say goodbye?

There’s an old Girl Scout song we sing here sometimes that goes:

Say when, will we ever meet again
Say when, will we ever meet again
Say when, will we ever meet again
Say when, my friend, say when

Say where, and I’ll meet you right there
Say where, and I’ll meet you right there
Say where, and I’ll meet you right there
Say where, my friend, say where

Say why, do we have to say goodbye…

And so on.

It’s a real question though. Why do we have to say goodbye? I leave Sangam today. Our final event also finishes today; we have been hosting a WAGGGS Leadership Development Programme seminar on the environment, which has meant that a Planning Team gathered from around the world lead all the sessions (we have 46 people here from 39 different countries), and we SVs carry tables and make photocopies. This is fine, though, because I have been trying to cram all of my end-of-season tasks into this event–make a logbook page, empty my individual folder, steal photos from Sangam’s hard drive, and…well, say goodbye. Here at Sangam we have compliment books, where we write nice notes to each other whenever we feel like it. We also use them to write our goodbye messages. So I have a stack of twenty-odd books on my desk, which I need to write goodbye in.

I am scared to go home. I am afraid of the reverse culture shock–both transferring from the developing world back to the developed world, and the culture shock of realizing that  people don’t discuss important issues or talk about major global needs all the time, every day. Nobody at home knows what the MDGs are. None of my friends from home have attended U.N. conferences. None of them are Girl Scouts, which has never felt so lonely before. I am overwhelmed by the process of explanation and storytelling ahead of me, already exhausted by what I know will happen–nobody will want to hear about India anymore, about how my life and priorities have changed, and I will have to wrestle with these issues on my own, or risk being that girl who begins every sentence with, “When I was in India…”

Luckily, I don’t have to worry entirely about no longer contributing to global needs and major issues. I got a job, for an NGO, back in New York. I start on April 2nd. I will be the Communications and Marketing Assistant for EngenderHealth. They work for women’s reproductive and sexual health in Africa, Asia and the Americas, both on the clinical and the advocacy sides of things. I am really thrilled that I can go home but continue to make a difference in the world. I know it will be a big change to begin work at an office, a place where I can’t lie on the floor when I’m tired, or cut paper out with the funny shapes scissors, or shout and dance around the room when someone is stressed and needs cheering up. And it will be a change to go from a residential workplace, where my coworkers are my friends and family; instead, I will be commuting to an office. I am preparing myself for this adjustment. But I am looking forward to using my writing skills and my organizational abilities full-time, and to adding my voice to this really important agenda.

There is too much to process. Too much to think about. I will leave you with a song my friend Steph has been playing over and over again:

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