I'm not a big believer in any external locus of control. Fate, destiny and even coincidences were always a bit beyond my grasp.
But lately I haven't been able to ignore the feeling that this is where I'm supposed to be. To be honest, this feeling started long before I could point out Mozambique on a map. Looking back at the spiral of events that led me here, I'm astonished at just how many elements had to position themselves perfectly for this move to work.
I was so content in New York. In love in New York. So ready to carve an X on the ground and claim it as my corner of the world. I had my perfect life and yet I was restless to move to Africa. This longing inexplicably planted itself in my head and wouldn't leave. Every time I would make a semi-permanant decision, a part of me would squeal, but what about Africa??- At the Ikea checkout line where I bought my first-real-apartment furniture. The day I (very very stupidly) decided to paint our living room wall red. Even as my relationships deepened and developed, I couldn't help but feel that every mark I etched into my life in New York would make it that much harder to leave.
I closed off Saturday at an all-night party in Maputo's crowded train station (where the party never really ends). My head was swimming in the fog of neon lights that would randomly catch the faces of the new friends surrounding me: people who've graciously opened up their lives and their city to me. From these friendships, I have, in just two short months, had crazy, intense conversations. I've learned so much about Mozambican society by watching the enviably close bond that they've all maintained over the past 30 years, in the midst of war, death and suffering.
I can't help but smile at the thought of that crazy intuition telling me to leave my New York world behind. I'm so so glad I did.
This is where I'm meant to be right now.