"I never met a White boy who could stroopes before."
For the uninitiated, stroopes is the act of one person, as they say here, "kissing his teeth." That is, it's a common singular oral gesture, used when expressing discontent or distaste of something or someone. It's usable in largely the same situations that Americans might say "Pssh!" or something to that effect. It rings synonymous with expressions of "I can't believe it!" or "The utter gall!"
I'm finding it difficult to concentrate on the important aspects of closing out my term of service. Yes, I'm carefully getting through my necessary medical clearances; yes, I'm considering all the possibilities of what I might be doing when my term of service ends, scheduled for October 18th; but even so I wonder if I'm doing enough to put my respective institutions in a place for them to sustain the work that I put in place without my presence here. As so many of the Volunteers getting ready to leave will tell you, this simple answer is usually "no." That reality sinking in even as time slips away from me, in conjunction with a few pervasive distractions, some pleasant and some not, serves to sap my strength and motivation away from what should rightfully be the most significant and memorable three months of my entire term of service. Instead, the uncertainty of what I will be doing following my term of service is stifling, and the ambiguity of what good I could be doing now for my organizations with the limited time I have left is disheartening.
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