[sigh] I'm home now. I've been home for a few days, and I haven't yet been able to write about this… because I've been too emotional about it. But now, I think I've had enough distance. Hopefully. We'll see. So here are the last few days of my trip.

On Thursday, I walked into work feeling a bit low, mostly because I felt sick from the wine and beef I'd consumed the night before but also because I was not looking forward to the goodbyes to come the following day. A few talibés actually asked me what was wrong. They can read people so well, even at such a young age. I spent the day not really doing much. I helped with a few documents, and then I just kinda screwed around. I went to Bouba's for lunch, spent some time with the fam, and then I had scheduled to meet up with Becaye around 16h.

Now, Becaye is a musician that I met last time. Nice enough guy but just kinda gives me the creeps because he's so very much "I think we should get married. It's my new project in life to marry you." He's pretty… intense. So, I went over there around 16h45 (when we were scheduled for 16h00) with Bouba because we needed to help him with some documents that he wanted to get squared away. I was really frustrated because I was uncomfortable, sad, and I really wanted to get back to Ngallèle to see my host family. It was the last night I was going to spend with them. Finally, around 18h15, I get into a taxi to go home. In the taxi on the way back, I had a nice chat with the taxi driver, and then I got to see my family.

I've been really lucky to have such a great host family. They've been so good to me. Even though I'm not close at all to the parents, the kids make the experience great. When I got home, Mami was sad because she and her boyfriend had just gotten into a big fight, so I chatted with her for a bit, we made dinner, ate, and then had a big photo shoot. Those are the photos that are online that I'll get you a link to shortly. The photos were great, and it gave us a good chance to talk. I'm really going to miss them. It was a nice way to spend the last evening with them.
I was planning on saying goodbye to them on Friday morning, but I was in no way ready to do that, so I decided to purposely leave my passport in a bag that I still had at the house so that I would /have/ to come back on Saturday to pick it up. Good plan, so I went into town on Friday for my last day of work.

I got to see all the talibés that are really important to me. And this year, there aren't really that many. For all the time I spent with them last year, this year was much different. I still got to spend time with the kids, but in a different, more medically-inclined capacity. I got to talk to Elimane and Aliou. We chatted about the future mostly… because I was going to back to go to school. What will you do when you're done with school? I don't know. What about you? I don't know, etc. They'll move back to their families, get married, and hopefully find jobs. Aliou really wants to go to Mecca. He's going to work really hard to make sure he can get there before he dies. His father went when he was younger, and Aliou really wants to go to. "Will you go?" they asked me. "I'm not Muslim. I can't." Well, then convert. Oh, of course that is the easiest option. Of course. So then, again, we were talking about why I don't believe and why they do believe, etc. "Why are you Muslim?" I asked. And I got one of the best responses yet: "God, that's why." I was then called into the health center to do some health care. I was glad I got to do a bit of that on the last day, too… to really finalize the work I'd been doing there for the 2 months.

One of the directors and the actual founder of Claire Enfance, Diop, invited me to lunch at his house. He's the director that I've gotten closer to this year that I really really like. He's a really great, nice, genuine guy. In Wolof, you would say that he "doesn't have any problems." There's nothing reproachable about him. He's a good guy with a great heart that's willing to do anything for anyone. I never really knew his story until this year, and I guess I still didn't really completely believe it.

Diop lives in the fisherman's quarter. He grew up as a talibé and decided that he wanted to help street children, and so that's why he went to French school: to learn French to have the faculties to help people. He learned the Qur'an from a local marabout, and fell in love with the daughter, so now he lives in the house where he was a talibé with the woman of his dreams. He's quite wealthy by Senegalese standards, yet he lives a very modest life. He has 6 beautiful children that make up his very tightly-knit family. Everyone comes home on Friday at 14h00 to eat lunch and pray. One of the boys (who is at least 11 or 12) came right down and curled up in his father's lap. It was so beautiful. I guess I just never really thought Diop was that type of father. Apparently if he's not at work, he is spending time with his family. It was really nice to be able to see that side of him. He's also very well respected in the community because he's really "a man of the people". He doesn't come from riches and he really wants to help people. Everyone loves and respects him because he's so modest and humble. And it's really… admirable. I like him a lot. /And/ because he lives in the fishermen's quarter, their thiebou dieune (rice and fish, Senegal's nation dish) is amazing. Now, I haven't really ever /liked/ fish, and for about a year now, I've avoided it as much as I can. He insisted that I try some, though, and it was delicious. Fresh fish cooked to perfection. Mmm. Great food, great company, great experience.

Diop then got a call and we headed back into the bureau. It was then that I wanted to go into the market to buy products for the money that my grandfather's Lions Club donated to Claire Enfance. Along with other donations, it was about $550 = 250,000 CFA. With that much money, we were able to buy tons of stuff to better equip the two centers: lots of soap, buckets, basins, cleaning supplies, and lots and lots of shoes. I went shopping in the market with Adja, Goudiaby, and Nioufa. And it was great to see them "in action" (so to speak) in the market. When I bargain, it's kinda awkward because I have no idea what I want… or how much I want to pay. For them, it's more like a game, but then also not… because they know exactly what they want. One time, they wanted to buy a bucket for 1000, but the man would not give them that price. A tactic to get the price you want is to walk away, and then usually the salesman will say, "No! Come back! Fine! Whatever you want!" But sometimes it doesn't work. So we walked away once, and he didn't call us back. So we went back and paid the price he was selling for. It's interesting to see Senegalese people bargain.

When we got back to the center, everyone was so excited about the donations. They were cheering and really moved by the generosity of Americans (… because of course they now assume all Americans are generous…). They took lots and lots of pictures and stood and looked at everything we bought… it was a real treat for them. Especially because they didn't expect it. They've also been going through some hard financial times right now, what with the economy and all. Apparently no intern has ever taken it upon themselves to find money to donate upon her return, so they were very proud. They called in some talibés to come take a pair of sandals. They were so excited. One of my favorite talibés came up to me with a huge smile and gave me a really heartfelt merci. And that's what makes it all worth it. So, Grandpa and other family, if you're reading this, know that the money and (just as important) the gesture were received with open arms, and that they could not be happier.

After we had finished taking pictures and everything, Diop came out and said, "Now it's time for us to give you your present." He pulls out a beautiful African mask from the newspaper that it was wrapped in. "This is for you to thank you for all your hard work over four months that you've been here. We are so proud to have you as a member of the team, and we are really honored that you came to work with us not only once but a second time. We know that you're really committed to the cause and that you want to make a difference. Know that everyone thinks very highly of you. Thank you for all that you've done for us. We're really going to miss you." Now, I know this organization, and I know that this is not something that they usually do for their interns (because I interned for them previously). This is something special. And I found out later that they got me the mask even before they knew that I had found money for them… that it was to thank me even before that. Which just makes it all the more special. It wasn't just a thank you for money. It was a thank you for coming to help. And that means the world to me. Lots of tears, lots of hugs, and lots of "I'll see you soon inchallah"s. It was really nice.

That night, I was up with friends chatting, and then I had to go home and start packing. All in all, I went to sleep around 5h30 in the morning, and woke up around 8h00 because I knew I had a lot of stuff to do. I went to buy some Café Touba, the Senegalese coffee that everyone loves, the coffee Lamine sells. I'm excited to have it in America, even though it's a completely acquired taste, right Dad? I did some other errands and then made my way to Ngallele. I spent a few hours there, but then I had to say my goodbyes. This was really hard. Because I had to say goodbye to my host family, Adjou, and Georges. One fell swoop. Lots of tears. Lots of tears from me and from others. (That's why crying is so bad… because it makes other people cry…) They all walked me to my taxi, and I was crying the entire way back into town. 20 minutes. The taximan was getting pretty sick of it. Really more that he just didn't understand…

I was dropped off in front of Bouba's house, and Lamine and Ndèye Sokhna were sitting outside. I got out of the taxi, bawling, and Ndèye Sokhna immediately came over, wrapped me in this big bear hug and asked what was wrong. "I'm leaving today." It was pretty pathetic… haha. Makes me laugh jut thinking about it. I was basically a puddle on the floor. I was so broken. I dropped my stuff off inside, saw a few other people who were very concerned that I had gotten some bad news from family members or something… Basically they thought that something was "actually wrong". As if going home wasn't enough to make me cry like that. Haha. I went back to clean out my room completely, give back my keys, say goodbye to Anna, and give my stuff to Harouna, my other favorite talibé. I returned for my last lunch with Bouba's family. After a bit more running around to finalize things, it was time to say goodbye to the family that has meant so much to me, my second host family. I made so many people cry! Haha. It was great. Ndèye Cissé insisted that I stop crying... and she nearly got belligerent. And this was because she knew she was going to cry. And she did. She was crying like me. We got along really well. Ndèye Sokhna was crying, too. Bouba had a couple tears, and Lamine was trying to be all stoic. I knew his heart was breaking a bit, too. Goodbyes are so hard.

I didn't want Anna to accompany me to the gare routière… because I, frankly, didn't want her to be the last person that I saw from Saint-Louis. Yakham and Goudiaby came with me to help me get a taxi to Dakar… and I was really glad to have them there… even just for a moment. They were both really broken as well. Goudiaby said a quick goodbye and walked away so I wouldn't be able to see his tears… and Yakham just denied that he had tears. But they were there. I saw them through my own. When my departure can make grown men cry, I know I've really made an impact in their lives.

So that's how I left Saint-Louis. And now for some general reflections.

Most amazing things about Africa
God, it's hard to even think about the most amazing things. I think that, to be lame, I would probably have to say that the most amazing things were the relationships that I was able to build or continue building. Immediately, right when I returned, it was as if I had never even left. I really feel like I was able to jump right in where I left off, and that means so much to me. It really feels like I've been with these people for 6 months straight, not 4 months and then 2 months again. I'm really pleased with how close I am to Adjou now. She was really a huge part of my life in Ngallele, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Most stressful and frustrating things about Africa
I think the most stressful things all come from the fact that I'm a white, non-Muslim woman who speaks a bit of Wolof and who has really close relationships with lots of people… but who will never truly blend in. I have a few stories:
-- I was walking down the road and one little boy (7 years old ish) hit me in the back with a waterbottle. I yelled at him in Wolof... "Why do you hit toubabs? That's a bad habit to have..." His eyes got all wide and he ran away.
-- Carriage drivers always try give me a ride. "I'm not a tourist," I always say in Wolof. And then they want me to give them their phone number, meet their families, marry them, and love them forever.
-- The other day, I was walking and someone shoved a cigarette in my face. Not a big deal, but it's something that I'm sure wouldn't happen if I were Senegalese...
-- I was hanging out with Lamine who was selling his coffee, and I was listening to a story, and I asked a question to follow up in French. Someone else who was there asked, in Wolof, how long I'd been in Senegal. About 6 months. "You really should be able to speak better than that for having been here for 6 months."
They're really blunt sometimes, and that's hard, but they always say what they want to say. Good, bad, or otherwise. I hope to take some lessons from that. I've learned so much!

What I’ve learned from being here
God, I learned something new every minute of every day. If I wasn't learning a new word, I was learning a new aspect of Senegalese culture or I was learning something about the world or about myself or about human nature or about how to interact with kids or coworkers or about how to ask for something I need… or or or or or. I learned so much.

My favorite Wolof moments
-- "Sama khole moye metti." My heart hurts. It's the way you would say that your stomach hurts… It usually refers to a physical pain, especially in this context. Mami said this to mess with me when she hadn't seen her boyfriend in a few days, and it's what I always said when I was sad to have to leave.
-- "Sama khele, dafa touki." My mind is on a voyage, on vacation. When I checked out of whatever I was supposed to be doing, that's what I said. This is a completely ridiculous thing to say.
-- "Ana sa dieukeur?" Where is your husband?
"Amagouma dieukeur." I don't have one yet.
"Lou takh? Loye khar?" Why not? What are you waiting for?
"Khalé laa!" I'm just a child!
"Yow? Doo khalé!" You? You're not a child! And they really don't think I'm a child. They always think that I'm older than I really am, but even at 21, I'm not a child anymore… There are many "women" that get married at age 17… so 21 is the perfect age to get married. (Don't worry, Mom and Dad, I won't be getting' hitched for awhile.)
-- "Yow, doule rekk. Bayile doule. Lolou bakhoule." You, you're full of shit. Stop bullshitting. That's bad. Haha.
-- Maa ngiy dem marché pour def ay benkéniyenké." Benkéniyenké means… shenanigans, I guess. So, "I'm going to the market to do some shenanigans." Haha.
-- "Yaa ma gueune thiebou gueji." You're more of a player than I am! Thiebou gueji = player = smoked fish.
Toward the end, everyone was making fun of my accent. I didn't even try to have a Wolof accent; it was a bit too far out of my reach. But the fact that I spoke enough Wolof for them to make fun of my accent was actually a compliment in the end. :D

Some of my most memorable moments
When I was here, I actually kept a list of nice things that people said to me and crazy text messages I got. So, here's part of that list that I wanted to share:
-- We were talking about religion and they were all riding me, and Ben came over and said, "Bayyileen jamm (let her be)," took my hand, kissed it, and said, "Elle a ses croyances comme vous avez les vôtres. Elle est quelqu'une de bien et c'est ce qui compte. (She has her beliefs just like you have yours. She's a good person, and that's what counts."
-- The other night, a drunk or stoned or something Beyfall (crazy rasta man) came up to me and started talking. "Tout le monde dans ce quartier te connait, même si tu ne nous reconnais pas. On sait que tu es quelqu'un de bien. Tu parles avec tout le monde et ta façon de parler avec les enfants, c'est beau, quoi. Même si on ne le dit pas, tout le monde te respecte énormément. Tu es gentille. Yaa bakh. C'est ta mission d'être ici. C'est ta mission. Dama kontaan ci yaw. (Everyone in the neighborhood knows you, even if you don't know us. We all know you're a good person. You talk to everyone, and the way you work with children is, like, beautiful. Even if we don't say it, everyone respects you immensely. You're nice. You're good. It's your mission to be here. It's your mission. We're all proud of you.)"
-- The last time I went out with Georges and his friend Hubert, Georges had just had a really successful day at work. He's going to make a lot of money and… "That means I'll be able to come visit you in America! And I'll be able to meet your family and your husband and your children. I want to meet them! You'll be a great mother. And I'll buy your husband a Guinness. Because he'll be the luckiest man in the world to have you for a wife."
And now for some of my favorite text messages.
-- Harouna: Stafaninakasoubasmouginekhemersi. This one actually meant a lot to me. Harouna is one of my favorite talibés. He wrote me this text message. He's just learning to express himself in French, and wrote this to me in Wolof. The translation would be: "Stafanihowareyouthismorningthemorningisgoodthankyou." Loosely. Even the fact that he sent me something… and that he was really trying to communicate through writing is just great. Really was heartwarming. :D
-- Saliou is the younger brother of one of my coworkers, Awa. He came in once and I helped him with some healthcare stuff. He then asked for my number, etc. He's 17 I think. Here's the message he sent: "773651241 c pour ma mère. Après je te donneré mon propre numéro dans ton mail. Est-ce qu'on pouré se voir avant tu parte si c est possible donne moi un jour pour que je vienne te chercher répond moi svp mercie." "### It's my mom's number. After, I'll email you my number. Can we see each other before you leave? If it's possible, tell me when I can come get you. Please respond." Hahaha. At least I can attract 35 year olds and 17 year olds. :D I'm not biased.

And now I could leave you with details about my loooong return trip home… or I could leave you with this:

A few days prior to my departure, I ran into an older spiritual leader of the community. We made small talk for awhile, and then when I told him I was leaving on Saturday, he kinda smiled, sighed, and said, "But you're going to come back, right? You must. Your 'entourage', the people around you love and appreciate you a lot. Anyone can see that." This is someone I didn't even know very well but someone that I respected a whole lot… and for him to say that to me still brings tears to my eyes. It's what I always thought. And to have that validated means a whole lot to me. It's how I feel about them as well. These are people that I can no longer live without. They will be a part of my life for the rest of my life. Nothing makes me happier than to think about how friendship, even such culturally-distant friendship, really can last a lifetime.