I realized today as I was writing about the 4th of July that my Senegalese family rarely makes appearances in my blog posts. That's really unfortunate and a poor decision on my part because the truth is, they play a large role in my life. I guess they are just such a regular fixture in my Peace Corps experience that I find myself writing about things that are more out of the ordinary (or more heavily food based...)
It's strange for me to think that not all countries in the Peace Corps worldwide community provide host families for their volunteers. In fact, Senegal is one of the few countries that does. When I was visiting Cape Verde in April it struck me how different life would be if I was living on my own or with another American instead of my family. Although sometimes I do feel like a child again - constantly being asked where I'm going, being told I don't eat enough every single day, and having a "curfew" - the positive aspects of life with my Senegalese family drastically outweigh the negatives. In the end, my experience was made better because of them.
Living with my family for two years has inevitably created bonds. While my Yaay (mom) and I aren't always on the same page, let alone speaking the same language, we've managed to come to know one another astonishingly well. I can tell immediately when she's in a bad mood or having a rough day, and I've counted personal victories when I can make her laugh during those instances. Usually it involves me making an idiot out of myself or making fun of my brothers, both of which tend to happen almost daily. My two youngest brothers and I don't hang out that often, but they know that in order to use my internet or phone they will be forced to tell me all about school and girlfriends (those are always interesting conversations). We joke around, I put them into headlocks, and they tell me they won't miss me. But I know they're lying, and that's the hard part.
Tonight was my first real goodbye and the gravity of leaving is starting to become a reality. My oldest brother Moussa is a university student and is in the midst of two weeks of intense final exams. He had a test this morning and came back to Pout immediately afterwards in order to see me one last time before he leaves since he will be headed back to Dakar early tomorrow morning. He and I have shared a very close bond for my entire two years and he is by far my closest Senegalese friend. I hoped that I would be close with my Senegalese family as a whole, but I never pictured having the relationship I do with Moussa.
We sat outside on my porch as it grew dark and watched the bats fly overhead, criss crossing in the moonlight. He asked me what I'll be doing in the States and I tried my best to explain my ever-changing plans for my future. I asked him about his girlfriend and school and told him I better have a standing invitation to his wedding when he gets married (I'm secretly hoping that will happen many years down the road so I don't need to make a trip back here quite so soon). Most of all, I told him how much I'll miss him and how strange it is to be saying goodbye, not knowing when I'd ever see him again. He told me he will always be my brother and attempted to look away when he teared up. I cried by the end of our conversation, not only because I'm terrible at goodbyes, especially with people I care about, but also because it hit me: this is it. This is the beginning of the end and all of those goodbyes I've been pictures are actually going to happen. As many bad days as I've had in Senegal and as much as I've wished so desperately for July to get here as soon as possible, leaving this place will still be difficult.
I've got one goodbye under my belt. In terms of Senegalese goodbyes, that one was by far the hardest so I'm glad it's over. God bless the age of technology; all of my Senegalese brothers have Facebook accounts, so I feel fortunate it will fairly easy to stay in contact with them. I'll still be poking my nose around in their lives from across the Atlantic so they'll just have to deal with it. For now I'll relish the time I do have with them all until I ride off into the sunset.
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