Goodbyes

I had been feeling pretty ready to leave here, until Thursday night. We had a dinner in our honor at the Baobab Center. All of our teachers were invited, plus other Baobab staff we've gotten close to. Our group has been here longer than any others, because no other program at the center lasts more than 4 months. Because of that, and the strong personalities in our group, we've become favorites with everyone from the guardians to the maids to the teachers.

Each of us talked about some memories or feelings about our time in Dakar, and each of our teachers talked about us. Rama spoke last, and kept looking at me as she was talking about the personal moments she'd shared with our group and how she's gotten so close with us. Finally she just said "Especially Erica. I'll miss that one." That and our other professors ("All I can say is, I adore these girls." "They've become children to me." "I've never had such a conscientious, enthusiastic class before.") made me realize that the relationships we've developed with our professors and the staff here is a completely uniquely Senegalese thing. The candidness of our conversations with our professors is not something I can even picture at school in the US.

That dinner made me feel truly sad for the first time about leaving. Then, on Friday night, Katy and Christine left for Europe. Katy will be back in Dakar for five hours next Friday night before we leave again for the US. Christine will get back to Dakar after the rest of us have left, and she'll be here until May. I hung out at Katy's house for a short time before we took her to the airport. When we were all saying goodbye to her family, her host dad told us about how we've become part of his family, especially after a few of us went to his son's baptism (remember that, way back in September?). He said that the fact that we'd gone meant the world to him, and he would never forget it. Naturally, we all cried, especially Katy.

I'm not all that close with my host family. Still, I have a lot of love and affection for my family members, and I appreciate them. It will be hard to say goodbye, and I am dreading that moment. I'm sure I will be back, and I'm sure I will see them again. But I doubt I'll live with them again, and I doubt I'll stay in close touch.

I've also been realizing lately that leaving Dakar means much more than just that. I'm not just leaving this place, I'm leaving this whole experience. I'm going to be saying goodbye to the people I've met and come to care for deeply, but I'll also be saying goodbye to this phase of my life. This is the only time I'll be on a study abroad, where I arrive in a place with a built-in support network and a family waiting for me and field trips provided. This is the one time I'll travel around the world with friends from school and spend six months doing just about whatever strikes my fancy.

In the time I've been here, I've done things that never would have occurred to me before, and I don't know how many of those things I'll ever have the opportunity to do again. For example, how many times will I be in a family that will slaughter two sheep and a goat for a Muslim holiday? How often can I go to a Muslim naming ceremony, or a wedding where the bride and groom aren't present? When will I be able to go on a 10km barefoot walk through mud and rice paddies, or dip my finger in freshly pressed mangrove honey?

I have had such a rich, eye-opening, welcoming experience. It's going to be hard to say goodbye to it all.

I love this place, and these people.