Farewell Clare

As I wrap up my time here in Clare, I am at a loss for words. So I am going to recap some of the words I have heard here in the hopes that it will shape my memories of where relationships and businesses began.

Man standing outside the tuck shop (a kind of convenience store and the only stores in the village): “I need your phone number?”
Me: “Sorry, my phone is only for my job.”
Man: “Oh good. A job is looking for me.”

While his syntax may have been off, I like the idea that jobs are looking for us. I hope that they find each of us. And soon!

Conride, a homestay “uncle” of sorts: “Can you see the moon in USA?”
Me: “Yes.”
Conride: “Can you see the sun?”
Me: “Yes. Why do you ask?”
Conride: “The students seem surprised each time they see things in the sky here.”
Me: “Oh yes, we can see the moon, but sometimes it is hard to see the stars.”

Funny, it is easy to see the whole of the Milky Way here and somehow we are seeing people, each other, and ourselves more clearly, too. He made me wonder what it is that is blocking our vision back home.

Conright, who was one of our go-to guys and the Marketing Director of our bread company, Xinkwa xa Rixaka (Bread of the Nations) upon tasting the first batch of prototype bread: “I’m eating the product of my mind.”
Conright again later when he bid us farewell: “You will leave a gap here that will not be filled, but we will remember you and what you have done for us. And we will succeed.”

We have learned a great deal from the people here in Clare through words and actions. We have also taught ourselves a few things: to value process over product, participation over decisions and how by moving with the tide of time here, we become accepted by the community instead of viewed as peculiar outsiders. Now we know that no one’s worth is indicated or determined by a job, but that a job does bestow a sense of worth and pride.

Through becoming part of the community here, I was reminded of one of the Chronicle of Narnia books, The Last Battle, where the characters go through a door to find a bucolic land after a great battle. They assume it to be the end of the battle and a paradise place of rest, but are urged to push “further up and further in” towards increasingly more beautiful and good things. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not comparing a rural developing village to what is meant to be a metaphor for heaven in the book. Heaven best not have latrines. And I’m certain no one will be hungry or sick there. But what Clare does have going for it is the ability to let people in. The community has let us come “further up and further in” to know them better, to teach us how they live. Ultimately, this openness allowed us to help them build better businesses.

I leave Clare tomorrow with utmost gratitude and with the hope that the next time I come, I won’t recognize it at all.