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
