And then it happened...

I left the village. There were so many days this past year when it seemed like that would never happen, like I was stuck in this "village limbo" forever. Although things changed during the rainy season, for the most part, one day in the village was pretty similar to the next. Over time it seemed like I would never leave, but then it happened.

The last few weeks in the village were great. With some art supplies sent from Winship School we had a successful art day at the primary school. The students made drawings of Senegal and the village, which included things like mortal and pestles, donkeys, monkeys, "machines" for planting, and even a tree with a face carved in it, which comes from animism. It was a cool project. We also got the school garden up and running with beans, okra, bissap, carrots, lettuce, hot peppers and watermelon. The students are in teams and take turns watering. They are all really excited about it.

I also kept busy helping start a tree nursery in our area. Wula Nafaa (which means "use of the forest" in Bambara) is a USAID-funded project helping villages in my area build tree nurseries. The goal is to not only sell trees to individuals but to also help reforest the area. We have had quite a few workdays filling plastic sacks with a sand/dirt mixture. We ended with close to 10,000 sacks waiting to be seeded. It has been awhile since I have done any agriculture work (since our harvest ended in January) so it was nice to get my hands dirty again. The team was all men, too, which normally makes for a slightly uncomfortable situation but they were great and it was nice to be one of the guys and not harassed.

As for the health hut, a major cement shortage pushed back our start date to just last week. There has been a ton of construction in Dakar the last couple of months, mostly in preparation for the Islamic Conference in mid-March; my theory is that this was the cause of our cement shortage in Tambacounda. Nevertheless, it has started and the project committee is on top of things, always one step ahead of me. I have complete confidence in their abilities and would not have left early had I had any doubt. I formally transferred the project to Josh, my nearest Peace Corps neighbor, to help them out if they run into any problems. Again, everyone in the village is really excited and so thankful to all who have helped make the health hut happen.

Besides work, one very awesome and memorable event was our village's "sugo tuloo" or ANIMAL PARTY. It's a very traditional Bambara "thing," that different villages in the area host each year. There was lots of anticipation leading up to the big night. Well over 1,000 people came in from other villages and towns and took our little village over. It was a bit overwhelming! A few of my Peace Corps friends, Josh, Ben, and Donna, also came. After sunset we all headed to the edge of the village, looking out into the forest. The drummers started drumming and slowly two gazelles started dancing out from the trees into the village. We formed a huge circle and two of our older women, my grandma and our neighbor, led everyone to call the animals out, along with the drummers. The two gazelles danced, along with a huge bird and finally, the lion. The animals danced one-by-one until well after midnight. Lights nor cameras were acceptable but I recorded the drumming and singing on a cassette. The next day I asked who was in each "costume," but they gave me a smile and said, "Moxol si!" Or, "Nobody! They were animals!" Awesome Bambara tradition! My village rocks.

I left my village on the 27th of March. The first day I arrived in my village was really difficult, but this was clearly worse. I am leaving for many reasons, but mostly because I want to pursue medical school to obtain skills that will allow me to do greater good. My biggest regret was that I couldn't do much to really help my village, that they didn't need me in the first place, and that I did not have many skills to offer anyway. I am leaving to try to rectify that. However, while being so "work focused," I definitely underestimated the "culture" side. My host family has been amazing. They have been my friends, and really, my family here. I have seen their kids grow up. And one of the hardest parts is, I may never see them again. The morning I left, we shook hands with our left hands, a promise that we will see each other again. The women also asked me to forgive them if they had done me any harm, and I did the same. Crying is not very acceptable in this culture, but tears were shed.

I have finally made it to Dakar and am slowly getting used to the idea that I am actually going home -- and not just for vacation. My flight is on April 9th. The ride from Tamba to Dakar was the usual 12 hours; it was therapeutic to watch the scenery change (and see the temperature drop below 100 for once). Now in Dakar, it is starting to feel more like home. I have gone to the French bakery down the road several times. I went to the pool and the beach and have spoken more French than Bambara. I haven't worn my "village clothes" in a week. I have slept in a room with air conditioning for the first time in Senegal. I have almost spent all my money. I have said goodbye to other volunteers, who have been my second family here in Senegal.

To end this entry, I'm going to take a quote from a quick read that I really enjoyed, Eat, Pray, Love: "In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices."

To those back home who have written and called and supported me, thank you. To my fellow volunteers and friends, thank you. To my village and Dansoxo kunda, Mao, Vieux and Bayo, Nynjarro and Nantie, Ndiaye, Khadi, Mama, Mydiarra and Fatou, all my little brothers and sisters, thank you.

My kids' hands on the wall of my hut.