So in two weeks exactly I'll be in the airport, waiting to board the plane, trying really hard not to break down, because everyone will be looking at that tall girl with the huge suitcases and on her face they'll still see the traces of the tears and of four nights, no sleep.
And it hurts. Next to me, a few friends are talking and they are all from different places and they wear different clothes and have different opinions (they have opinions) and in two weeks they won't see each other again, no never.
In two weeks I'll travel 8500 kilometers back to a reality which I have so consciously tried to escape in the last two years, and I am scared, scared, scared. I'll host friends and family and family friends and though their embraces will lift me up and carry me towards bright sights of the future, at night when everyone is gone I'll stick my leg out of the bed to let it rest on my roomie's bed, which won't be there. And I'll think that, if such a celebration would have happened here, there would have been tea in dirty cups and pyjama shorts involved. I'll message one of my friends but I won't get an answer because it's 4 pm there and who checks facebook at 4 pm anyway.
When I'll be walking in the streets with my friends talking about our favourite candy, I'll see the word 'united' somewhere and I'll think of the dozens of times my friends and I sarcastically laughed at how we "united" the world. I'll see nescafé instant coffee and will be reminded of the last month we spent all together in the AQ. Studying, but really just sharing our last tea bags and taking naps in our effectively designed napping-room.
This UWC-thing is, in a sense, unethical, highly unethical. Taking young people out of their context without them realising it. Raising them in a culture of big dreams which are slowly carefully turned into reality. Then, two years later, throwing them out. Catapulting them back to their homes.
And yet, grief grief grief. And gratefulness. And laughs, many laughs. When someone asks "what are you laughing about", I'll just say the woman on the other side of the street looks funny, while thinking about that time when I was laughing so hard that I fell on the ground and my feet accidentally hit my friend's nose, which made our stomachs ache for the next 15 minutes.
14 days left. Already gone, but never gone. It's not like 'home' stays here and I can come back whenever and be home again. Next year it will be half home and the year after it will only be home in the recognition of trees and buildings and paths.
Home are the people. Home is whenever I'm with you.
And it hurts. Next to me, a few friends are talking and they are all from different places and they wear different clothes and have different opinions (they have opinions) and in two weeks they won't see each other again, no never.
In two weeks I'll travel 8500 kilometers back to a reality which I have so consciously tried to escape in the last two years, and I am scared, scared, scared. I'll host friends and family and family friends and though their embraces will lift me up and carry me towards bright sights of the future, at night when everyone is gone I'll stick my leg out of the bed to let it rest on my roomie's bed, which won't be there. And I'll think that, if such a celebration would have happened here, there would have been tea in dirty cups and pyjama shorts involved. I'll message one of my friends but I won't get an answer because it's 4 pm there and who checks facebook at 4 pm anyway.
When I'll be walking in the streets with my friends talking about our favourite candy, I'll see the word 'united' somewhere and I'll think of the dozens of times my friends and I sarcastically laughed at how we "united" the world. I'll see nescafé instant coffee and will be reminded of the last month we spent all together in the AQ. Studying, but really just sharing our last tea bags and taking naps in our effectively designed napping-room.
This UWC-thing is, in a sense, unethical, highly unethical. Taking young people out of their context without them realising it. Raising them in a culture of big dreams which are slowly carefully turned into reality. Then, two years later, throwing them out. Catapulting them back to their homes.
And yet, grief grief grief. And gratefulness. And laughs, many laughs. When someone asks "what are you laughing about", I'll just say the woman on the other side of the street looks funny, while thinking about that time when I was laughing so hard that I fell on the ground and my feet accidentally hit my friend's nose, which made our stomachs ache for the next 15 minutes.
14 days left. Already gone, but never gone. It's not like 'home' stays here and I can come back whenever and be home again. Next year it will be half home and the year after it will only be home in the recognition of trees and buildings and paths.
Home are the people. Home is whenever I'm with you.
Hi Louise,
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your thoughts with us during the past two years.
Please do not have so much pity with yourself about ending your stay ay MUWCI, I will tell you how it continues (spoilers):
You will go back to Belgium in two weeks and then life will be hard, missing all those wonderful friends and the chai. I only hope that you were not involved in the drugs party at MUWCI. In case you had a sentimental fling there it will be even harder. Your family will not understand your suffering and you will dream about the past every night and you will spend whole nights on Skype with your sad friends all over the world. But there is hope because somewhere halfway August light will appear in your eyes, you will pack you suitcases again and leave for one of those fancy colleges in the US and there the whole adventure will begin again. Many UWC alumni will be there to receive you and this time everything will even be better, no more IB! The adventure will be for four years, the food will be so much better and you have grown up a little so you will not suffer like you do now.
Good luck,
Harm F. Althuisius sr.
Hi there (not too sure whether I'm talking to Harm or the-father-of),
DeleteThanks for your reaction, it means a lot :) I don't know whether it is meant sarcastically or not. Regardless, I think it's important to make clear that it was not my intention to come over as self-pitious or any of the like. I know that coming here is a huge privilege, and I am extremely grateful for the opportunity I got.
I also want to set this straight: I am not going to "one of those fancy colleges in the US" and will go back to "normal life" in Belgium, thus not continuing the UWC-life, in contrast to many of my peers and secondyears, as you are undoubtly aware of. Thank you for the advice anyway! If you have any more questions or comments, feel free to contact me anytime!
Hi Louise,
ReplyDeleteSr. is the father of (two UWC alumni). I’m aware that MUWCI is a somewhat rough experience and I only wanted to stress that there is a life after….I showed you more or less what happened in my family. I really loved to read your blog, you are one of the few faithful bloggers, but I was surprised that studying at the same UWC many of the experiences that you shared were different from what I heard from my son. I suppose that is normal.
Good luck in Belgium although I doubt if there is a “normal” after MUWCI?
Harm F. Althuisius sr.
How are you doing now back in Belgium? Happy to see your family? Do they understand your feelings? Do you feel "home" or "lost"?
ReplyDeleteDo you regret your experience at MUWCI?
I didn't know this existed for kids of 15-16 years old. It can be a wonderfull expierence, or you can regret that you did it... I realy don't now how i would react if i had a kid who wants to try UWC...
Well, how I'm doing is a question I haven't found the answer too either. Regardless, I definitely don't regret this experience, but rather the opposite. Missing is one of the shitiest feelings, but I'd rather go through that than not having anyone or anything to miss :) New blogpost coming soon!
Delete