Mohammed and I have figured out a way to communicate, even without many shared words between us. For example, yesterday on the drive home I told him that I would be leaving Yemen.
"Why?" he said in Arabic, slamming on the brakes and cranking his neck around to look at me in the back seat.
"Finished," I said in Arabic. "Khalass." It was one of the only words I know... "I am going home. To my husband."
"When?" he asked. Neither Martin, my carpool mate, or I knew how to say two weeks, but somehow I think Mohammed got the picture that it was soon.
Yes, friends. The time has finally come. I'm heading home in about ten days time. Yemen has been wonderful and awful, though luckily more the former than the latter. It's been an incredible learning experience and it was a perfect way for me to change things up, but now it's time for me to get back home. I've got a fantastic new life waiting for me and I can't wait for it to begin.
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