wanderlust

I've been on one continent for a year--far too long--and I can feel the restlessness rising. I can't wait for the bustle of the airport, the sinking feeling of the plane taking off, the insane heart-in-my-throat anticipation of landing with the knowledge that a joyful reunion is only a stroll through customs away. I'm impatient with mundanity, ready for an adventure, trying to avoid packing and somehow hoping that everything will jump into boxes of its own accord. I'm tired of saying goodbyes, ready to just move on, get started with something new.

I'm going home. Uganda-home. It won't be the same. I'm scared. I can't wait. Have I changed? Has it? Have they? Are the roads better? Worse? Does Daawat still have the best naan? Does it still get palak paneer and malai kafta mixed up half the time? Is MTN still the Missing Telephone Network? Will the water taste funny? Are fresh chapatis on the side of the road at 6pm as good as I remember? Will I remember to say trousers instead of pants?

And my real questions: Am I going home? Or will I find myself just as surely an mgeni among wananchi in Uganda as I am state-side?