"Saying goodbye isn’t the hard part, it’s what we leave behind that’s tough." - Unknown

I leave South Africa in less than a week. I've begun writing this latest entry at 10:56 a.m. South African time. In 7 days, I'll be sleeping in my bed nestled amidst a sea of blankets and pillows in my little corner of the globe: away from Grahamstown, away from the poverty, away from the stories, away from the country and the kids I've come to really love during my time here.

I was thinking back on the past three months, about the kids, about the school and shelter and I realized how so many of the kids have become my friends. Since arriving, my role has changed from Jason, international volunteer and karate guy to Jason, my friend. Looking back, I'm glad to see the transformation. These kids--Siyabonga and Masixole and Bramwell and Xolisani and Samkelo and Thulani and....-- are some of the most exceptional human beings I've ever met.

They come from backgrounds so many people at home would describe as "desperate," but you'd never know. Sure, they've had their bad days. Everybody does. Yes, they fight sometimes. Occasionally that fighting involves weapons they've either brought from home or fashioned out of something nearby. Despite all of this, they truly are some of the most classy individuals I've ever met. Not classy in the sense that they go to nice restaurants and immediately know what fork to start with. Classy in the sense that most days, they don't let all the bad in their lives get in the way of all the potential good. Classy in the sense that they hold their heads high, even when society might tell them to do otherwise. Classy in the sense that most days, they want nothing more than to get by and exist in an environment where they're treated as human.

The older guys at the shelter are nearly as old as I am. Our friendship has transcended my whiteness, my foreignness, and at times, some language barriers. They're really not "my students" they're "my friends." And it's going to be really terrible saying good-bye to them.

The younger ones: when I went to watch them gumboot dancing at rich, privileged, predominately white St. Andrew's, I felt like a proud father with my camera snapping away. I thought they were the best in the show. I've loved spoiling the little ones. I've loved seeing them in passing and having them come up to me with huge smiles on their faces and saying hello. I've loved it when Siyabonga, Bramwell and a couple others came up to me on June 17th, smiled and said "Happy Father's Day!"

I've loved my time here. I love the country. I love the kids.