Last week I sat in my village snacking on a messy mango my three-year-old fiancé had just picked for me, and I didn’t want to look at my watch.  I really needed to go and pack, but the hours left were starting to tick away. I had a matter of days left.  I couldn’t believe it; I was about to leave my home for the past two years.

Earlier that week, all of the volunteers from my training group attended our COS (close of service) conference in chilly Dalaba in the middle of middle Guinea. ...