Arrived

It's the end of the explo. There's not a firm end to point to; instead there's a trickling to a stop.

Is the end when we leave the debriefing meeting with the health authorities of Sandoa? Is it when we pile in the car and drive away? Is it when we meet the Zone Director on the road, coming back from a meeting in the capital, and we say a final goodbye? Is it when we join the other team in the next district over? Or when both teams hit the road in a convoy? Or the end of the debrief meeting in the zone capital? Or the return to our back-base in Lubumbashi? Or the handshake at the end of our group debrief? The moment I press send on the final report? The goodbyes as I head to the airport? The call to turn off electronic devices as the airplane door is sealed and my lungs no longer take in the Congolese air?

Somewhere in there, it was the end of an explo, and the end of a mission. As I shuffle through customs, it hits me. I'm leaving the Congo.

I'll fly to Paris and try to pick up another mission. I'm not ready for vacation at the moment. We shall see where in the world I will be next week.