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Names and Nationalities

Over the course of my one hundred and twelve days in Malawi, I have gained enough new names and nationalities to make any intelligence agent proud. I have been called Kristina, Alyssa, and Sydney by people in my area mistaking me for my roommates and people in districts mistaking me for previous EWB staff. In … Continue reading

  • Whenever I’m away from home, I suffer from the delusion that time has stopped for everyone else. I imagine that people are frozen in the streets of Saskatoon, that my friends are rivalling Sleeping Beauty, that my parents have been at the airport since they dropped me off. The delusion I’m under is a shared delusion, shared by anyone far from home. We forget that lives go on without us, that our homes are not frozen in time. When we say we miss Canada, we mean that we miss our friends and our families, we miss our bedrooms and our kitchens, we miss chocolate milkshakes and pancakes with whipped cream. But what we don’t talk about, what we don’t usually think about, is that we miss more than our favourite Canadian foods. We miss moments. We miss camping trips, birthday parties, family reunions. We miss weddings; we miss births; we miss funerals. We miss the first moments of lives and the last moments. Life goes on at home, no matter how many times we try to press pause.
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