The Last Week

The last week was sad, painful, and full of tears. It was also full of hugs, kisses, laughter, and friends. Although we were all dreading that flight back to the homeland and away from the amazing new place we had discovered, we tried to enjoy every last minute we had. We spent some good time at the salon, one night with a lobster dinner, made specially by Roberto, one night playing musical chairs and doing the limbo. We sat on the Malecón, went to the beach for the day, talking and reminiscing, and said painful goodbyes. Thursday night we had a party with Casa de las Americas with all of our professors and people that made our trip possible. They had great food, delicious dessert, good music, and of course, drinks. Thankfully, this night included a photo opp with coffee girl, the woman who brought us those wonderful, tiny white cups of thick Cuban coffee everyday, Chino showing off his dance moves, and Sonya dancing with Tomasito. We partied Cuban style as we thanked everyone for making this experience so great for all of us.
Saturday night we had a party at the residence with Maria, our abuela, Mileydis, our friend and amazing cook, and Chino, the guy who does it all and does it with love. Although we had bought yummy food, had drinks, and played the music, the atmosphere was less than festive. None of us could really spark ourselves into party mode when we were all so depressed about leaving. It was hard to believe that our time had come to an end and we were going to be wrenched the next day back into our previous lives and out of this sunny, amazing place and away from the beautiful people we had met there.
This same night, Jose had told me that Roberto, his brother, wanted to perform a Palo Monte ceremony for me and Tara to make sure that nothing bad happens to us. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I knew that it meant a lot for him to want to do this little ceremony so I agreed and looked forward to it. Jose helped me wash my hands, arms, face and neck with water that had a special plant in it that tingled my skin. Then we headed Roberto’s room where he had a little altar set up. There was a little statue of the god, a candle, a flask of rum, and a cigar slowly burning. I went first and Roberto stood me in front of the altar and started talking in Yoruba to the god. He said to take care of me and to give health to me and my family. He then drank some rum and spit it on my face and back and took the cigar into his mouth backwards and blew the smoke onto my whole body. These are used as offerings for the god and also to protect me. I then talked to the god and told him what I want in my life, for myself and the people around me, asking for help or whatever I want. Roberto then used a plant to hit the bad spirits out of my body. Everyone else went through the ritual and I left my bracelet there overnight to gather the protection of the god to carry with me everywhere I go. Although it was quite a different experience, I appreciated it so much that this new family cared about me and opened up to me to show me this ritual and protect me.
The night was full of tears, then numbness, then more tears. Everything I looked at, everywhere I went, I was sad that I was going to be so far away from it soon. Inevitably, the time came to get on to that awful bus and head away from our new home, family, and friends. We said our painful goodbyes, and waved goodbye as the whole bus sobbed the whole way to the airport.