Fifteen days; me and my mole.

I almost had a heart attack when I turned around from the sink with my mouth full of toothpaste and found the Rev. standing a few inches away from my face. He was staring at my head in a sort of bland concern- (if indeed you can actually string the words 'bland' and 'concern' together).

"Eh," he said, gesturing at my neck, "You are hurt."

"Wha- oh. No. No. It's a mole. It's natural, I've had it since I was a baby."

If I got a cedi for every time I've had to explain away the mole behind my right ear- no, it's not a mosquito bite, not a disease, not a wound, not contagious, not going to kill me- I could easily afford to stay out here for another couple of months. The children at school pile on top of each other so they can get a chance to poke it.

If only I had the luxury of another month out here. The volunteers have been departing in a steady flow ever since the last knees-up at Kokrobite, and I'm sure that now I should be starting to wind down as well. The topic of conversation between us all invariably turns around to plans for the first few days back in England, what we will wear, what we will eat, who we will see, where we will go.... And I don't really feel ready for it. I don't feel ready to set about packing my things, I don't feel ready to even start thinking about returning to the reality of life in the UK. I mean, surely by now I should be starting to feel even the slightest of pangs pulling me back to England? The others have all clicked back into place so easily, The Fear seems redundant now. But where is the urge to go home? In less than two weeks? I seem to have misplaced it somewhere among all the detritus on the floor of my bedroom.

I mean no offence to my family and friends at home. I love you all. Really, I do. But at this moment in time, the excitement of seeing old friends again is entirely drowned out by the desolation I feel at having to leave me community, my school, my pupils. With a matter of weeks left I am lumbered with a deep sense of regret that I didn't do more for my school. I'm not sure what, just- more. I wish I had the power to give my kids everything they deserve. I wish I could pack fifty of them into my suitcase and take them home with me. My Mother would love that, especially now they're ripping out the kitchen...