Mi salmini be fof, Au revoir Mampatim

Hello again darling readers!

Since it is already June and time keeps on flyin’, I feel it is time to wrap up my story. I’ve been home spending time with my parents for a little over a month now with plenty of healthy moments to reflect. I’ve had the pleasure of visiting with all my long lost friends and family members, and all the humorous stories secretly bottled up have been seeping out slowly.



Here's some volunteers friends hangin at my host family's house, my home for the past two years

There was definite fear before I left Senegal that if people back home were to ask about my experiences, all would come out was negativity. These emotions simply stemmed from daily frustrations, language barriers and cultural differences that at the time, seem to add up so fast. Now, all I can sincerely muster up are feelings of pure joy and fulfillment. In an effort to summarize the projects and work I did in my community, instead all I care to tell about were the shear loving relationships and beautiful friendships that were formed.

This was my very first day in Mampatim meeting my host parents Dello and Bambe

I’ve managed to contact my host mother twice now, and when I call her and ask how everyone is doing, she automatically rattles off the status of all of my closest friends in the village. I am more confident than ever, having been home in America for a while, that I have a second home for which I will definitely go back to someday. To see all my host siblings grown, to see the place just as I left it, this is my selfish expectation.

Host siblings cooking dinner



Host siblings Rougi and Kaba, dancing wildly



Braiding host sister Mawnde's hair

Host sisters Rougi and Isa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can say with all honesty that everything I was hoping to do with my community was done. In January, after a relentless battle for grant approval, the middle school girls’ camp project was finally a success. We discussed everything under the sun, from domestic abuse and teenage pregnancy to tips on networking and the importance of continuing education. I was so proud of those girls, and even more proud of their parents for participating in the heavy discussions. It was powerful to hear their mothers talking openly about their experiences as young girls. An even greater impact was made when the fathers spoke regretfully about marrying their daughters off to older men in hopes they would be provided for. The girls performed theatre skits, designed friendship bracelets, and bonded on familiar women’s issues which lead to empowerment and togetherness by the end of the two day event.

Fatou designing her nametag

Networking game



Distributing certificates at the end of the event

After the girls’ camp was over, I desperately wanted to take it easy and soak up the last few months with my community. We had some great last parties at the regional houses with my fellow volunteers but what I’ll never forget was the going away party in my village. I failed miserably in my attempt to make spaghetti for everyone, but what mattered were the people who showed up to say their sweet goodbyes. While inevitably choking up, I thanked them for their kindness, their support, their openness, their friendship, their patience, their love, and everything they’d taught me about family and community.

This is Adama. She makes the best breakfast sandwiches ever, and she happens to be my best friend in Mampatim.

This is Cerno Yay on the left and Galle Diallo on the right. The two coolest dudes in town and the sweetest men ever.

My favorite brothers, owners of the best one stop shop in the village



My host parents and closest friends on my last night in Mampatim

The next day, I was back at the regional house packing up my things. Before I knew it, I was on the bus back to the Peace Corps training center where it had all started just two quick years before.



March 2011, very first day arriving in Senegal to the Peace Corps training center

April 2011, very first day visiting my village. This is me on the road to my host family's house.

All dressed up for Ramadan two years later, holding my namesake, Bambe