Conclusions of many sorts

Its not the first time I’ve remarked how hellos are much more important than goodbyes for the Senegalese. There is no question that greetings are of the utmost importance – to shake the person’s hand and go through the usual series of inquiries about your friends family, health and happiness – but then its so funny how people can separate so abruptly, often without a word. Kids march into class in straight lines like little soldiers, but then pelt out in all random directions when the bell rings. My host mother will often simply hang up the phone without warning when she feels that a conversation has been sufficient. I would say that my culture (American culture?) on the other hand values endings more than beginnings. Or maybe its just me who thinks that those last words, last gestures, are important, to conclude a conversation on the right note, seal off a stage in your life or an experience properly. If ever I get cut off from a phone conversation with my parents back in the states right before we’re about to hang up, we still have to call back to actually say goodbye. And so naturally I was worrying about how on earth I would find the right things to do and to say to conclude the past six months of my life: to show my immense gratitude, appreciation and hope for the relationships I had built with the people and places around me. All of which I had imagined taking place in those final moments at door steps and car windows.

But instead, I felt as though my goodbyes were spread out over a gradual period of a few days, during which by simply spending time with friends and family, savoring last activities, I and they too were able to remark on the significance of our time spent together. The process was rather emotionally exhausting, and did feel a bit drawn out , but in the end I think I will always look back on those final days as some of my best in Sebikotane.

The subject of my departure had been a looming shadow over discussions for several weeks already, despite my constant efforts to evade it, but it wasn’t until my final Saturday with my host family that our activities seemed to reflect a sort of purposeful preparation for this fact. On Saturday morning I cooked my first and last very own ceebujeen, almost completely on my own. Kine got to gutting the fish before I could stop her, but after that my host mother made sure that I was the one to carry the calabash bowl to the corner market (although she came with me to assist with barging through the crowd of women to actually reach the table of veggies), to pound the stuffing, fry the fish, spice the sauce, peel the vegetables, sift  the rice, wash and pour and stir the rice, scrape the delicious sticky bits from the bottom of the pot, and divide the meal between the various bowls. I love the rawness of cooking in Senegal: its hard but satisfying work that requires strong, deft hands, agility and fearlessness of oil. I’m going to miss being able to just throw scraps on the kitchen floor. › Continue reading

Tags: culture, departure, takeaways

Looking Forward

Josefina and Omar never cease to amaze me. Tonight at dinner while eating carrot cake that I made with Fina, she told Omar:

“Hey listen, I said to Laura the other day, I said: Don’t be jealous of the students that are coming for the summer program, even though they’re going to be staying in your room. They are coming for two weeks and you’ve been here 7 months. And you will always, always have a place to stay here.”

I said, “I’m not jealous, I’m just, you know, envious.”

“That’’s true, Laura, (‘La-oorah’, he says) you’ve robbed my heart, although that might make you laugh.”

I laughed, but mostly because my eyes were accumulating water…

“See– you’re laughing. And now you’re crying!”

“There’s dust in my eye. Cinnamon dust. From the cake.”

“Yeah, cinnamon dust, same with me.” Josefina says.

First two tears of departure.

Tags: departure, family, food, homestay