The END. Of the Beginning...

I promise this is the final installment of the story. Catch up on Parts 1 & 2 Here & Here 

This one was a little bit more difficult to write as there were lots of emotions over this time in my life. I didn't want to go into all the nitty gritty but sometimes my mind and my fingers communicate without my approval. So here goes, the unedited version of how I became the American Zimmigrant. 

So I went back to Louisiana with a full heart, excited to get back and begin a life with Cuan in Africa. And a month or so later, I was back on the plane headed across the pond to be with the love of my life. 

If this story was a movie, I’m pretty sure this is when the credits would start rolling. Everything has come full circle and the star-crossed lovers have finally ended up together. But that’s the movies. Reality is a lot more complicated than that...

The rose-colored “new love” glasses have to come off eventually and for me they did about 7 months into living in Zimbabwe. 

Although I loved Cuan and I loved Zimbabwe, and he had taken me on some wonderful adventures, there was this tug pulling me back home. 

I think it was a combination of a few things. Cuan and his family had been so generous and welcoming by giving me a car and a position in the family business, but I hadn’t earned any of it. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t crazy about the work either. Essentially, I moved to Zimbabwe a few weeks after I graduated from college. So I never went through that hunt for a job and the gratification of getting it because you were the best fit. 

Another compelling factor was my family. During the months that I had been in Zim, I knew it had been really hard on them, especially my mother. And I certainly missed them too. I owed them some “Leslie” time in case this Zimbabwe thing was something I could see myself going back to.

I also didn’t know what my own country was like outside of school, as an adult in the “real” world. So I had nothing to compare my new life in Zimbabwe to. What if I loved America more? What if the guilt of leaving my family never went away? What if love wasn’t enough for a move across the world? What if, what if what if! It was too much and I needed to step away from that situation before I exploded. 

I’ll never forget that conversation with Cu.. I’m sure a part of him knew it was coming, but neither of us wanted to admit it. He didn’t want to let me go, but he could see I was not in the right place. And a few days later, I had packed up everything I could fit into my giant blue suitcase and got onto a bus headed for Johannesburg. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Even in the best of spirits, that bus ride has got to be one of THE WORST ways to travel to Joburg. Combine that with a broken heart and unrelenting tears and you’ve got a disaster. 😞

But as I made my way towards America my regret and misery slipped away to excitement at seeing my family and friends. I landed and got to surprise my mom who had NO idea that I was coming back, got a job and moved back in with my bestie and college roomie Haley, and got to see my family nearly every day. Had plenty of parties with old and new friends, spent time in California, Florida, New Orleans... I was there for the birth of Lauren’s second child Andrew, and cooked so many meals with mom and wine and laughs in her kitchen. ALL of it was so meaningful to me and exactly what I came back to do.. 

 

But I was broken inside. 💔

Torn between two worlds, and terrified that the man whom I loved with all my heart was going to give his heart to another. Every day I feared this. Every day I felt like this life and future with Cuan was slipping through my fingers. 

I think I purposely kept these feelings from my family. Zimbabwe, Africa, Cuan - all those words brought heartache for me, but also for them. I don’t think they wanted to bring it up or ask how I was doing for fear of me changing my mind and returning to Zim. So we didn’t. Just carried on like normal. 

And this lasted for nearly a year. I bottled up a lot of things, but also enjoyed my life and tried to move on. But at some point I felt like I was just watching everyone around me live their lives and I wasn’t truly living mine. I cried. A LOT. But because I didn't want to break my family's heart it was only when I had moments to myself. In the car on the way to work, in the car on the way home from work, before bed, in the shower, you name it - I could have put Old Faithful to shame. I had been confiding in my dear friend Amanda about everything that was going on, and with some encouragement from her and her husband, I knew what I had to do. The American Zimmigrant was going back to Africa. 

That feeling. That moment when I decided I was going back, is difficult to describe. Its like I had been holding my breath for a year and could finally let the air out. Like an invisible knife of anxiety that was jabbed in my stomach disappeared. I hadn't realized how much weight I had been holding for so long and now that it was gone, it was so freeing. 

Then I started to plan how this was all going to work. Keep in mind that I had not spoken to Cuan in months and I had no idea what his status was. Had he moved on and I missed my chance? Still unsure if I was going to surprise him or not, I reached out to one of his good friends Johan on Facebook.. I just had to know if I was getting all worked up for nothing. So I told Johan that I have to come back, that I will never forgive myself for not giving this a second chance. But I had to know if he would be willing as well. And when I didn’t hear back from Johan for a week, two weeks, THREE weeks, I felt deflated again. Lost, when I had just found my way. Then nearly a month after I messaged him I finally got word back, and I don’t think I have ever received such genuine advice. It was long so I’ll summarize: 

First and foremost he clarified that he had, like me, tried to move on, but was not in any serious relationship. Check. ✅

But what came next surprised be a bit to be honest. He asked me to weigh more of my decision on what I want, and not necessarily on where Cuan was relationship wise. He asked me to make sure that I’m ready to come back and face the music, marry him and raise kids with him in Zimbabwe. Because if I’m not ready for that, it won’t matter if Cuan is. And he didn't want to see either of us go through what we had gone through before. 

Of course my answers to all of those questions were yes. I knew that there was something different about the connection between me and Cuan. Something that breaks the mold, knocks down walls, and crosses borders and oceans. Something I was not willing to give up on. 

So now what? How to I tell him or ask him if he’ll welcome me back? Well it all came to one phone call from Cuan just when I was trying to work out my plan of action. 

I remember it so clearly. Having drinks at Bear’s in Shreveport with buddies, most of whom knew what was going on with me. Then I look down and see a missed call from a strange number. When I realized that it was the good ole +263 Zimbabwe country code I. Freaked. Out. We all freaked out. And when I got the call again I bolted outside so I could hear the voice on the other end: 

“Hello my Darling…” 

A few months later I was back in Bulawayo, a thousand times more ready for what lie ahead than I was 2 years prior, and more in love than ever...

And THAT is the Story of Us. 

- The American Zimmigrant 

The Story of us, Part 2

Well it's taken longer than I thought to get to the rest of the Story of Us, but nothing new there. I tend to get a bid wordy when I'm telling a story, but that's not new either. If you haven't seen the first half, check it out here. 

... We picked up right where we left off nearly 2 years before, like no time had passed. But I wasn’t naive enough to believe that Cuan flew half way across the world solely for me. I like to think that I was a deciding factor in that move, but surely there was something else he came back to do. And a few days into our reunion the truth came out. Although Cuan had travelled extensively around the States in 2008, it was his dream to visit Alaska. And if any of you know Cuan at all, you know that he was going to make it happen one way or another. 

But what I did not expect was for him to invite me on this adventure! After some discussion, and a couple glasses of wine, we made a few decisions that kicked off the planning of an epic journey: Alaska. July. Motorcycle. I still had one semester of university left, so I knew that I had to get back to Baton Rouge before the school year began. But to make it official (and so I couldn’t back out), I booked a one-way ticket from Anchorage to Baton Rouge for the beginning of August. So some how, some way, I had to be in Alaska to catch that flight. We would work out the details later. 

We spent the next 2 and half months getting to know each other more, finding our mode of transport to the top of the world, and saving every penny we earned through multiple jobs to pay for this trip. 

Now I know what some of you may be thinking, where were Diane & David through all of this? They were around.. but I knew better than to drop a bomb like “this cute foreign boy that I met 2 years ago is taking me to Alaska on the back of a motorcycle and I already booked a ticket so you can’t say no.” So I decided to play it clever and slowly introduce them to Cu without revealing too much about our future plans. 

But we were rapidly approaching our departure date so time was of the essence. On their second time to ever lay eyes on Cuan, we broke the news. You can imagine with a doctor for a dad and a nurse for a mom, motorcycles weren’t exactly at the top of their list of ways they would like their youngest daughter to travel. I just knew that it wouldn’t go down well, and I had been preparing myself for a long non-approving conversation from both parties. 

Shows how much I knew those crazy parents of mine! In two separate conversations, we explained what we were planning and how we had saved up money, so we didn’t need anything from them but their approval. First words out of my mother’s mouth: “Where’s the side-car, I want to come!” and Dad: “I’m jealous that sounds like a great trip.” WHAAAAT? 😱 I had been building this conversion up for so long I was stunned at both of their answers. They clearly had more of an open mind than I expected... but I doubt that they would have let me go with just anyone. I think I have Cu to thank for that. 

And with that, we were A for Away! 

On July 7th, 2010, we set off on two wheels in the general direction of Alaska, with everything we needed to survive for the next 4 weeks. I was a little nervous, but beyond excited for this journey. I had been watching Cuan travel all over Australia and southeast Asia over the last 2 years, so envious of everything he was getting to experience, and now I was on the other end. Living out this crazy adventure with somebody that for whatever reason I trusted wholeheartedly to get us to our destination safely. 

It was during this trip that I discovered the best kinds of vacations are the ones that are not planned. We woke up every morning not knowing where we were going to be sleeping that night, and it was so exhilarating. Again, neither of us owned smartphones so we would look at a real actual, physical MAP - the kind that you hold in your hands and have to figure out the best route for yourself - to work out our route for the day. 

I had always wanted to visit California so we headed there. Cuan had been dying to get back to Yellowstone NP so we went back east . And neither of us knew anything about Canada which was absolutely remarkable! Sleeping in a tent only just big enough to fit our blow up mattress (which lasted about a week by the way before it popped), cooking cans of beans on the fire, visiting the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Napa, the Red Wood Forest, it was a non-stop sensory overload. 

I put together a little slide show of this trip as well, its a bit long but check it out here if you have some free time!

I know that doesn’t sound like the “ultimate” vacation to a lot of people, but I wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was truly a make or break it trip and we certainly made it. But as they say, all good things must come to an end… 

I think I was purposely being naive about our situation. We hadn’t really discussed what was happening, or where “we” were going, and I liked it that way because I knew if there was a next step, it was going to be complicated.  

Along our journey, Cuan got a call from his pops, Squirrel. I’m not entirely sure how the conversation went, but I can imagine he very gently reminded Cuan that he was 25 years old and it was time to grow up and come home to help the family businesses. Talk about a reality check. I think Cu knew that his life on the road was coming to an end, he just needed a little push. 

When we finally made it to Alaska 30 days and 10,000 miles after we left Baton Rouge, Cu sold the motorcycle to pay for his ticket back to Louisiana. And a few days after our return, he was headed across the pond back to Zimbabwe. 

I like to think that I have a pretty sensible brain between my ears, so as much as I wanted to, I didn’t drop everything and chase after him; I had to finish school and get that diploma. So for 5 months we did the long-distance thing.. calling cards and Skype convos whenever we could manage. And it didn’t take long for us to plan when we would next see each other. 

When I graduated December 2010, the day before my 23rd Birthday, I had finalized my plans to visit Cuan in Zimbabwe over New Years. Unfortunately, with the amount of time it takes to get there, this meant I had to fly from Dallas on Christmas Day. Something I know Diane wasn’t too pleased with, but Cuan and his sister Kelly had so much in store for us, I had to get there when the trip started. 

So off I went, first time missing Christmas Day with my family, first time traveling solo outside the country, to a place I didn’t know, to visit a man whom I had only really known a few months. 

My guess is this is when you, as a reader, begin to think (if you hadn’t already), “Is she crazy?"   🤨 Possibly. Quite probably. But I had committed to something and needed to see it through. Not to mention I was SUPER stoked to be going to Africa over New Years! I mean, are you kidding? 

After 36 or so hours of traveling, we touched down in Harare. If I was tired I didn’t let my mind believe it, I was just so excited to see Cuan again and meet his family I could have stayed up all night catching up. But we had an early start and a long journey ahead of us so, reluctantly, I went to bed so anxious for the next few weeks. 

This first tour of Cuan’s home country could be a blog post in its own, but I’ve written about most of the places in previous posts and I’m DYING to share more recent happenings, so I’m going to give you the highlights of my first days in Zimbabwe. 

Cuan and his sister Kelly had been planning this trip for months for a mix of friends and family on a killer vacation around Zim. We spend 3 nights in Vic Falls over the New Year’s festival with parties and live music every night. I got to see a Natural Wonder of the world and bungee jump of the Vic Falls bridge! We then drove back around the whole country to go to, you guessed it - Masau Lodge - where I spent my first days on the mighty Zambezi and left a big piece of me there. 

I think that’s when I knew that I loved Zimbabwe. I still had no idea what the next step was for me and Cuan, but I knew it meant me spending a lot more time in Zim, and I was more than okay with that. 

So I went back to Louisiana with a full heart, excited to get back and begin a life with Cuan in Africa. And a month or so later, I was back on the plane headed across the pond to be with the love of my life. 

If this story was a movie, I’m pretty sure this is when the credits would start rolling. Everything has come full circle and the star-crossed lovers have finally ended up together. But that’s the movies. Reality is a lot more complicated than that...

Watch this space for the final (I promise!) installment of how I ended up as 

- The American Zimmigrant 

The Story of Us, Part 1

Welp. It's been SO long I'm struggling to even begin this post.. Do people even blog anymore?? Do people even READ blogs anymore? Oh well, its out there now for those of you who have been following.

As most of you know, quite a lot has happened since I last shared my stories with the interwebs, most notably my MARRIAGE! But before I get into what can only be described as the most magical day of my live, lets start at the beginning shall we? And apologies in advance for all the words 😳. This was before we owned smartphones and took photos of everything.

Most of you have heard this story in one version or another, but I’ve never actually written it down. So here goes. This is how I remember it anyway...

I first met Cuan when I was 20 years old - a junior at LSU Baton Rouge. We happened to go to the same bar after a home football game. As I walked in, a friend greeted us and wanted to introduce us to his new mates from Zimbabwe. Having had met another Zimbabwean years back through mutual family friends - one of many strange coincidences that let us to this point - I jumped at the opportunity to meet another person from this mysterious country. 

So Haley and I walked up to meet Andrew and Cuan, two Zimbabweans traveling the US, and spent the evening making fun of each other’s accents and learning all about what they were doing in America. When the night ended, we agreed to see each other again, but I’m afraid to admit, I still didn’t know how to say his name! And don’t you dare ask me to spell it 😐 - But over the course of the next two weeks Cuan and I spent a lot of time together, and I couldn’t believe how genuinely well we got along. 

And just when I was finally started to say his name right - he hops on a plane headed to Australia. For good? Who knows.. with casual goodbyes and promises to visit one day, we parted ways. This very intriguing, handsome and genuine man with a dreamy accent has just sparked something in my heart, but I could never have predicted where that would lead. 

Literally the only picture we took together in 2008. Look at that baby face!

The weeks went by and I started to wonder if it had all been some sort of dream. Then the first post card came, from the Great Ocean Road - Australia. My heart melted at those first three words:      

“Hello my Darling..” 

Over the following months, the postcards kept coming, and my roommates and I would sit with bottle of wine, attempting (and failing) to read these notes in Cuan’s accent, living vicariously through his amazing adventures. But as time went on, so did normal life. And as much as I would have loved to see Cuan again, I started to realize that would probably never happen. 

Fast-forward a year and a half later, sometime in May around final exams, my roomie Haley asked me if I would go to the airport with her one evening to pick up her boyfriend. It was a late arrival and the airport isn’t in the best part of town, so I obliged. As the plane landed and passengers were exiting, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd and it wasn’t that of Haley’s BF.. long locks, wearing a “buff” and carrying a fishing case, could it really be?? 

I’m not a terribly emotional person when it comes to expressing my feelings (except when typed), so I’m not sure what came over me, but I ran towards that man and latched onto him like a leech. Still in awe that this person who had become more like a figment of my imagination was standing in front of me. Cuan and Haley had worked together to pull off what is still to this day the best surprise of my life. 

I wish I could say “the rest is history” but this was just the beginning of our unconventional relationship...   And since this is my first time back on the blog platform in a while, I’ve decided to ease you into my rants. So will pause the story here and continue next week! 

Spoiler alert: There's a happy ending. ☺️

- The American Zimmigrant.