G.O. 2005: Namibia (pt. 16)
This is part 16 of my 2005 Namibia trip report. You can see previous installments by clicking 'The Namibia 2005 Story' in the right hand menu.
After The Rain
Are things ever the same after the rain?
During the last couple days of our trip, I noticed a wave of emotion roll through the Christ’s Church part of the team. I wasn’t able to put my finger on it immediately. After a day or so of confusion, it finally hit me: we had prepared our team emotionally for this trip like we had every other trip before it. But this trip was very different.
When you travel cross-culturally one of the amazing realities is how quickly you come to love and feel close to the people you meet. Something about the environment of a cross cultural trip binds hearts together. We’ve taught each of our teams that have made the journey to Namibia to expect this when they meet Dieter and Joan, Brenda and Sylvia and our other friends there. What I hadn’t considered was that I had set up the Christ’s Church side of the team for a double whammy – falling in love with our Namibian hosts AND falling in love with the dance side of our team. As the trip wound down, I was seeing the reality dawn on the CCA folks that in just a few days we’d return home; us to our world, and the dancers to theirs. The young married couple that had stayed up all night, several nights, talking with a couple of the girls; the musicians who had sat up long hours playing guitar with a couple of the girls around the campfire; the thirty-somethings that had worked shoulder to shoulder with the teenagers to make a difference; the young adults who had gathered a few of the teenagers to get up early and go see the African sunrise, or who had set out sleeping bags under the stars together; the preacher who had spent the better part of 18 hours a day, for two solid weeks, talking with these teenage girls – we were all about to head home, and these opportunities were to be no more.
Just about the time I thought I had figured that out, another realization hit me: it was more than just the dancers. It was their families back home. In the months leading up to the trip we had been in many of their homes - we’d shared meals together, sat around the pool having a beer, talking about life. In the two weeks that we’d been in Namibia, we had received daily correspondence from the dancer’s families in the States through our Namibia 2005 Blogsite. Many of the dance families back home had sent blog greetings to CCA members of the team. Those comments had really touched our hearts. The reality, however, was sinking in. Those relationships would most likely end with our return. As I discussed these things with a few of our Christ’s Church folks, their emotions were raw. One of my team members said, “I don’t want this to end.” Another of my team asked, “So, what do we do now?”
The last few nights of the trip were very hard emotionally.
The difference was that with every G.O. trip we make, the team comes home, and for the most part, continues to share life and friendship with one another. At the very least, the teams come home and see each other at church on Sundays. This team was headed home with a very different re-entry experience awaiting them.
You could sense that the re-entry process was dawning the last day or so of the trip. Team members that had been very open and communicative during the trip seemed now to be becoming more quiet and reserved. Team leaders seemed emotionally drained as they went through the motions of preparing to bring the team home. Our technical folks went about their blogging, photography and video chores with far less excitement than they had earlier.
The morning of our departure for home arrived. With everything loaded in the combees we lined up and pulled out of Mpampo. Everyone seemed to be dealing with leaving differently. The back of my combee was a veritable party - laughter, joking, and singing. I looked over to Stephanie beside me however, and saw a completely different reaction. Steph was crying. When she noticed that I had looked over at her, she turned sideways in the chair to look away. She sat silent for most of the two hour trip to the airport staring out the window, occasionally wiping away tears. At one point I asked her if she was okay. Then the tears really began to flow. She managed nothing more than “I’m okay”. I remember thinking, ‘I’m glad you’re okay. I’m not’.
At the airport in Windhoek, during our flights and stops, our team leaders were going through the motions of getting this team home safely. I remember watching at one point while we were in London thinking that they looked like they were on auto-pilot. Our whole team looked emotionally wiped out coming home. I joked with a couple G.O. team veterans as we traveled that this team looked worse coming home than any team we had ever led before. They agreed. This was going to be a hard re-entry. We could see it on one another’s faces.
After The Rain
Are things ever the same after the rain?
During the last couple days of our trip, I noticed a wave of emotion roll through the Christ’s Church part of the team. I wasn’t able to put my finger on it immediately. After a day or so of confusion, it finally hit me: we had prepared our team emotionally for this trip like we had every other trip before it. But this trip was very different.
When you travel cross-culturally one of the amazing realities is how quickly you come to love and feel close to the people you meet. Something about the environment of a cross cultural trip binds hearts together. We’ve taught each of our teams that have made the journey to Namibia to expect this when they meet Dieter and Joan, Brenda and Sylvia and our other friends there. What I hadn’t considered was that I had set up the Christ’s Church side of the team for a double whammy – falling in love with our Namibian hosts AND falling in love with the dance side of our team. As the trip wound down, I was seeing the reality dawn on the CCA folks that in just a few days we’d return home; us to our world, and the dancers to theirs. The young married couple that had stayed up all night, several nights, talking with a couple of the girls; the musicians who had sat up long hours playing guitar with a couple of the girls around the campfire; the thirty-somethings that had worked shoulder to shoulder with the teenagers to make a difference; the young adults who had gathered a few of the teenagers to get up early and go see the African sunrise, or who had set out sleeping bags under the stars together; the preacher who had spent the better part of 18 hours a day, for two solid weeks, talking with these teenage girls – we were all about to head home, and these opportunities were to be no more.
Just about the time I thought I had figured that out, another realization hit me: it was more than just the dancers. It was their families back home. In the months leading up to the trip we had been in many of their homes - we’d shared meals together, sat around the pool having a beer, talking about life. In the two weeks that we’d been in Namibia, we had received daily correspondence from the dancer’s families in the States through our Namibia 2005 Blogsite. Many of the dance families back home had sent blog greetings to CCA members of the team. Those comments had really touched our hearts. The reality, however, was sinking in. Those relationships would most likely end with our return. As I discussed these things with a few of our Christ’s Church folks, their emotions were raw. One of my team members said, “I don’t want this to end.” Another of my team asked, “So, what do we do now?”
The last few nights of the trip were very hard emotionally.
The difference was that with every G.O. trip we make, the team comes home, and for the most part, continues to share life and friendship with one another. At the very least, the teams come home and see each other at church on Sundays. This team was headed home with a very different re-entry experience awaiting them.
You could sense that the re-entry process was dawning the last day or so of the trip. Team members that had been very open and communicative during the trip seemed now to be becoming more quiet and reserved. Team leaders seemed emotionally drained as they went through the motions of preparing to bring the team home. Our technical folks went about their blogging, photography and video chores with far less excitement than they had earlier.
The morning of our departure for home arrived. With everything loaded in the combees we lined up and pulled out of Mpampo. Everyone seemed to be dealing with leaving differently. The back of my combee was a veritable party - laughter, joking, and singing. I looked over to Stephanie beside me however, and saw a completely different reaction. Steph was crying. When she noticed that I had looked over at her, she turned sideways in the chair to look away. She sat silent for most of the two hour trip to the airport staring out the window, occasionally wiping away tears. At one point I asked her if she was okay. Then the tears really began to flow. She managed nothing more than “I’m okay”. I remember thinking, ‘I’m glad you’re okay. I’m not’.
At the airport in Windhoek, during our flights and stops, our team leaders were going through the motions of getting this team home safely. I remember watching at one point while we were in London thinking that they looked like they were on auto-pilot. Our whole team looked emotionally wiped out coming home. I joked with a couple G.O. team veterans as we traveled that this team looked worse coming home than any team we had ever led before. They agreed. This was going to be a hard re-entry. We could see it on one another’s faces.
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