The school year had just ended, and my school organized a field trip for all the students in the graduating class. We were a small school, so the preparations for the trip were made quickly. A lovely beach resort outside the city was chosen as our destination from among a few options. Saying that my friends and I were excited would have been an understatement.
The main reason for this trip was to bid farewell to one of our classmates. He was a transfer student from a remote tribe—I'm not sure exactly where, but possibly from a region with a predominantly dark-skinned population. I didn't think someone like him would even attend school, let alone transfer.
I remember he was quite tall for a high schooler, with long jet-black hair, a calm demeanor, and, most notably, he was a very kind person. Although he wasn't fluent in our language, he could speak and understand enough to have meaningful conversations. He was also incredibly intelligent and picked things up quickly. It had only been a year since he joined our class, and though many of us were initially intimidated by his appearance, we soon realized how wrong we were.
This field trip was organized as a farewell party for him. The time had come for him to return home. Being in a foreign country, far from family and friends, can be very difficult, though I can't say I know how that feels. We did our best to make his stay here as comfortable and enjoyable as possible—or at least, I hope we did.
The day after the party, it was finally time for him to say goodbye. It was hard for us to accept that he was leaving, especially since I had grown so fond of him. Before his departure, he told us he wanted to honor a special tradition from his culture, which involved writing down several things he liked about the people he was bidding farewell to. There were at least half a dozen of us, and he wrote a letter for each of us—even the teachers received one. We all agreed to do the same and write him letters in return. I thought to myself, "It's really going to take him a while to read all those letters."
We stood in line, exchanging letters with him. I could feel the sadness in the air, especially in my own heart. Some of my classmates couldn't hold back their tears and started crying. When it was finally my turn, he gave me a sweet smile and handed me my letter, and I gave him his. At that moment, tears began streaming down my face. I wasn't usually one to get emotional about things like this, but I couldn't help myself.
Sadly, we weren't allowed to see him off at the airport. So, after the letter exchange, we all stood outside the resort, saying our final goodbyes as we waited for his taxi. Another painful part was that staying in touch was impossible, so all we had were the memories we had made together and the letters we held dear. The boys in the class, the ones he usually hung out with, made a vow that, when they were older, they would visit him and his tribe. It was a vow made with manly tears, and I couldn't help but smile. Even he was moved by the promise they made. Not long after, the taxi arrived, he got in, and just like that, he was gone.
Hours later, we were all seated on the bus, ready to leave. Everyone was silent, likely thinking of him—at least, I know I was. The teachers had gathered outside for a meeting. Though I couldn't hear them, I could tell they were talking about him, judging by one of the teachers attempting the dance he had taught us. Now that I remembered, he had shown us a popular tribal dance during his first few days with us. It was a funny memory, and I couldn't help but laugh.
Later in the evening, after we had returned to school, I met up with two of my friends. Since we weren't going home immediately, one of the teachers allowed us to use the TV in the classroom to watch a movie. Of course, I picked the movie, and we all smiled as it began to play—it was his favorite, after all.
