Today was my last full day in Pout. I decided to take my camera out on my run this morning since it's the last time I'll be down any of the paths that have become so familiar to me. I waved at the women who sell mangoes along the national highway and who always clap for me as I run by; I bid each of them a silent farewell since it's the last time they'll see the crazy toubab go jogging. During my run I was distracted by taking pictures and dreading the looming goodbyes, but it felt good to get one last workout in.
my running path
a paved road that stretches for miles and miles into the countryside
cattle graveyard
After visiting the Pout post office one last time and saying goodbye to everyone who works there, I stopped by my counterpart Harke's house. I've been to his house countless times, and this morning didn't really feel any different. At first I didn't get the sense I was even saying goodbye; we watched a soccer game and talked about random life happenings. He eventually moved onto the delicate subject of the goodbye and said some of the nicest things any Senegalese person has said to me here. My relationship with Harke has been tricky at times, and I've felt frustrated with him at various moments throughout my service. Inevitably, his personality is Senegalese and that created tension sometimes with my American way of doing things. However, through it all, he has been a great work partner and I will miss him dearly. Before saying goodbye, he told me he was proud of what I had accomplished and that I will hold a special place in his heart as his "first volunteer."
My counterpart Harke and his family
After a few quick pictures, we headed towards the other end of town, walking along the main road through clouds of dust kicked up by horses. We said our final goodbye at a bend in the road and I couldn't help thinking at that moment about how the first time I met him he was wearing a Green Bay Packers' hat. It was indeed meant to be. We shook left hands and parted ways.
I headed to my friend Daba's house (the family who used to live with us) because I couldn't possibly leave Pout without saying goodbye to her. When she opened the door, Ahmet ran full speed into my arms yelling "Khady!" which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. His older sister Maimouna was sadly not there; those two kids are by far my favorites in all of Senegal and I will miss them dearly. It's difficult to think about all the milestones and growing up I've witnessed over the course of two years, knowing that I might not ever see them again. Daba and I chatted while Ahmet climbed all over me like a wrestler. I've very much enjoyed getting to know Daba and her family, and she will always remind me of what an intelligent, ambitious Senegalese woman looks like. My goodbye with her was definitely sad, but it was the last of the difficult goodbyes outside of my family, and I think I was too emotionally drained at that point to get too choked up. We exchanged emails and hugs and I thanked her for allowing me to feel like part of her family. With that, I headed home.
My last Senegalese lunch was somehow anticlimactic. My mom was not her all-star self yesterday and our cheb-u-jen was far from delicious. I suppose it was fitting though, that my last lunch was a sub-par version of the national dish of Senegal. Oh, how many times I've eaten it and longed for a cheeseburger. I snapped a few pictures of the family, but retreated to my house before long, still in denial about leaving.
I spent several hours during the afternoon packing and making my house as presentable as possible. I'm sure my mom will deep clean it before Andrew moves in at the end of August, but the Type A in me can't leave it dirty. I was faced with the hard, cold reality that one suitcase is indeed not a lot of space. One of my checked bags will be a rice sack full of the giant wooden chairs I bought from an artisan here; they weigh what seems like 100 pounds and I'm beginning to wonder if it was a good idea. Regardless, they're coming back to America with me and that leaves me with one other checked bag in which to stuff everything else. I'm terrible at letting go of physical things and even called Katherine to coach me through a "suitcase cleansing." I finally managed to get the thing closed, so it will be interesting to see how much it actually weighs at the airport. That could be a disaster.
This evening after I had finally finished cleaning everything up, I received a knock at my door. It was my brother Moussa to whom I had already said goodbye, back for a surprise visit!Apparently his exam for that day had been cancelled and he came back to say one last goodbye. I was overjoyed to see him. A while later, my friend Thilor stopped by to say goodbye. I had tutored her last summer to take the SAT, and wonder of wonders she evidently succeeded because she'll be going to the Universty of Rochester in New York this fall. It's hard for me to believe, as Peace Corps volunteers constantly hear Senegalese dreams of going to school in the States and it never seems to happen. She is actually going. My brain cannot fathom what it will be like for someone who has never left Africa to move to someplace so foreign (and cold!). I'm very proud of her and hope to somehow see her over the course of the next 4 years. She brought me a pair of fabulous Senegalese sandals that I will be wearing home on the plane next week.
The time for my last meal with my family finally arrived. I had told my mom I wanted to do something special for the family so I gave her money this morning to buy nice cuts of meat and all the fixings. My little sister Khady came over and we enjoyed a delicious meal together. It's been a long while since we ate a dinner together as an entire family. We shared some Fanta afterwards - a Senegalese favorite - and talked about my impending departure. It was oddly happy. No tears were shed (although I still haven't left at this point...). We took a few pictures, I gave Khady a final goodbye hug, and I excused myself to go to bed as if it was any other normal night. Right now, I'm just tired and drained. My mind is wandering to the things still on my to-do list, but it doesn't feel like my last night. I guess that's just my brain's way of staving off an emotional breakdown. I haven't physically left the country yet, so perhaps that remains to be seen...
last dinner
Ousmane, me, Khady
My wonderful family
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