Surprisingly, I did not cry too much when I had to say goodbye to Soso. The entire weekend preceding my departure from Senegal dragged along quite slowly. I obsessively packed, unpacked, repacked, and cleaned just to give myself something to do. Soso seemed to be on the verge of tears the entire last three days I was there. I knew that if she started crying I would just lose it. When I met my friend to get a cab to the airport, I gave Soso the final hug. Instead of acting sad, she just smiled and told me to write as soon as I got back, laughed her characteristic laugh, and turned to walk back home, proving once and for all that she is always full of surprises. I started laughing as I climbed into the taxi, wiping away a few tears. I remarked to my friend Amy Lou that that was the perfect note to leave on: Soso once again making me laugh, even in the most unlikely circumstances.
Saying good-bye to Soso was such a great hurdle for me to get over that I felt rather relieved once we were en route to the airport. The next things I needed to worry about: getting my boarding pass, as I bought my tickets on a sketchy discount website, my bags not being overweight, and making my connecting flight. My heart sank as the electronic check-in machine told me my confirmation code for my boarding pass was not valid. Then my heart sank even further when I saw my flight was delayed a whole five hours, as my layover time was only four and a half hours. I held my breath as I set my bags on the scale… hoping that they would not exceed 23 kg, the maximum weight for checked bags. The first one was fine, but my optimism faded as I watched the numbers rise on the scale for my second giant suitcase… 20… 21… 22… 22.5… And then it stopped! I threw my hands in the air and exclaimed, ALXUMDULILAY!!! This was particularly amusing to the Senegalese airport personnel and other Senegalese people waiting in line. Thankfully, I was able to get my boarding pass as well. The Air France personnel suggested that I just keep my connecting flight, as that one would probably be delayed too and I would be able to catch it without a problem.
My boarding pass read Gate B5. I walked through the airport, passing B2, B3, and B4, and then the airport ended. I noticed a small sign pointing to a small, enclosed room: “Door 5.” The only thing in this room was a staircase. I walked up the staircase to find a really nice lounge full of comfy armchairs with multiple flat screen televisions. An airport employee informed me it was the Air France gate, and then offered me a free sandwich and free beer to make up for the flight’s delay. I was even more impressed with Air France when I boarded and found that I had about 50 different movies to choose from. On my flight from Dakar to Paris, I sat next to a really friendly old French man, with whom I had an entertaining conversation, as we both were probably going to miss our connecting flights. After landing, I ran into Charles De Gaulle airport to read that my connecting flight was on last call for boarding. I then proceeded to sprint the direction of the terminal all the while acting like an obnoxious American, yelling out in broken French, “JE VAIS RATÉ MON CORRESPONDENCE!” This worked to my advantage as an Air France employee overheard and called the gate to tell them to wait for me. I had to go through security a second time and walk the entire length of the terminal, but they still waited for me (this time, I quietly exclaimed to myself, “Alxumdulilay!”). When I boarded the flight, I had to walk past probably a hundred angry faces: everyone knew I was the reason they had to sit on the plane an extra 45 minutes before taking off. It wasn’t until after I talked to the guy in the seat next to me that I realized how fortunate I was for just barely making the flight; he had been stuck in Paris for two whole days before getting onto a new flight. (And, just two days later, all of Paris was completely snowed in for several days.)
I landed in Dulles to be told that although I made my connecting flight, my bags didn’t. Air France promised to send them to my house in Chicago within a few days. As I waited for my friend Hannah to pick me up from Dulles, I suddenly noticed a few things. One, it was cold outside, and it had been almost a year since I last felt the cold. Two, there were holiday decorations everywhere and Christmas music was being played, which immediately put me in the holiday spirit. And three, there happened to be a Starbucks right next to where I was standing, and I instinctively walked right over to it. The woman in front of me in line remarked, “You look really happy! Are you coming or going?” I explained that I had just spent four months in Senegal and I had not even left the airport yet. “And the first place you go to is Starbucks?” I wanted to reply, “Okay, well you know what lady, this is my first peppermint mocha of the season!” But instead I just did a nervous laugh.
When I got to my lovely house in Tenleytown, I ripped apart all of my boxes full of winter clothes that had been stuffed in the basement. I became very overwhelmed with the number of clothes I suddenly had at my disposal. I repacked a duffel and prepared to go to Chicago the following morning.
And now I am home, and all is well.
I expected to have much more of a counter culture shock-type of reaction upon arriving back in the Western world. Honestly though, I have adjusted back to normal almost completely with my life here. I find it almost disconcerting how well things are going. I had some jet lag issues for a few days, but that’s to be expected. I also have a problem where I accidentally say things in French or Wolof, or think in French. It is a little depressing that English is the only language I hear now.
Serigne, the program director, told us not to put away our experience in Senegal as though it were a “finished book going back on the shelf.” In the week I’ve been home, I’ve really thought about how my experience in Senegal will change my lifestyle and attitudes in the future.
I should say that Senegal taught me to relax and take it easy. Instead, it has fueled my fire to travel and experience new cultures, help local and international charities, and more than anything, learn. This past semester showed me how powerful outside-of-the-classroom learning is. In the future, I will of course continue to take my studies seriously, but I also want to go more out of my way to learn about things I witnessed in Senegal: structural readjustment policies administered by the World Bank/IMF and African governments’ responses to them, empowerment programs for women and girls, “Education for All” agendas, governmental corruption in African states, and the general issue of neocolonialism and its impact. I do not want to limit it to Senegal or West Africa, either. I want to discover what is going on all over the world, even though that is an impossibly large goal to set.
I also feel like I finally have started to get something of a strong hold on the French language. The better I become at the language, the more I fall in love with it. Learning Wolof was definitely worthwhile, despite my doubts that I will ever use it again, because it allowed me to communicate with other Senegalese people on a whole new level than just French would permit. I never realized how much of a culture is embedded in its language; little things in the language show you what values that group of people has. For instance, in English we only have the word “brother” to describe a male sibling. In Wolof, there are different words for younger brother (rakk bu goor) and older brother (mag bu goor), and there are also special words for the youngest child and oldest child in a family. All these words show how prominent family members and family structures are in daily life in Senegal. Not to mention, there was something so entertaining about a toubab girl speaking Wolof to many Senegalese, and it made everything much more lighthearted.
Now that I know what it feels like to be the foreigner, I will be extra conscious of being accepting to others who are minorities in any sense, whether it is race, religion, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, etc. After my nasty bicycle accident in July of 2009, I learned how it felt to be stuck in a wheelchair or gawked at for walking around in a ridiculous-looking back brace. Since then, I have been extra conscious of how I act around handicapped people. Now, I am extending that to anyone at a disadvantage or minority group. Of course, I never was outrightly racist or politically incorrect, but I may have been critical at times of international students at my school acting a certain way or just generally not acting as open-minded as I should have. One of my number one goals in life is to become as well cultured as possible, and I feel that being accepting of everyone is essential to attaining that objective. I know that sounds incredibly cheesy. Oh well.
It is really weird to think that two weeks ago I was still in Dakar. It is even weirder to consider the thought that I may never be back. Everyone (other than those affiliated with my abroad program) I encountered in the last few days in Senegal was shocked to hear that I was leaving so soon… They were expecting me to stay a few years I guess. They also asked me when I was coming back, and sadly I didn’t have an answer for them. I would love to go back in five-ten years, just to see how different everything will be; I’ve been told that Dakar has been really developed over the last ten years. They were just starting to install sidewalks along one of the main roads as I was leaving, which was great to see, because I had way too many close calls with almost getting hit by cars.
As far as travels go, I will be venturing to Istanbul this March for about ten days as an extension for one of my classes for next semester. Now that my semester in Senegal is over, and spring semester is less than a week away, it is time to face forward again. I will always remember the wonderful people I met in Senegal, and as I already mentioned, these past four months will continue to impact my life and my attitudes.
Once and for all: Ba beneen yoon.
Until next time.
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