Laayila

Laayila

Ask me how many times I said/thought that in the last 12 hours, and I couldn’t even begin to guess.

First of all, middle of the night does not scream Kate’s time of day. After a lot of confusion all day, a taxi man from ACI came to pick me up at 10:20pm. Bintou, my host aunt, was so sad, as was Aida, my homonym. My whole family and my friends greet everyone back in the US, and send God’s favor upon you. It was sad to leave, but also kind of unreal. Bintou ran out to the taxi to give me fattaya to go (fried meat/onions) and benay (basically donut holes), even though I’d eaten a full dinner and a bunch of these fried oily snacks just moments ago. I gave it to the taxi man, who appreciated it.

I chatted with the taxi man, and we got to the airport well before 11. He just dropped me off, though, without any direction. I asked one of the many people circulating, and was told to go to my airline to print an itinerary. Check. In order to actually go inside the airport, you need your passport and itinerary. I quickly found the South African Air check in, and weighed my bag – 16.35kg; I don’t know how that converts, but I know I didn’t have any fees. Then when I weighed it for real to check in, it was only 16.2. Then was disaster line time.

There was one enormous line for passport control. I was so hot and sweaty. You have to fill out a form saying what your address is where you’re going and where you just were, as well as other basic info. Then they scan your finger prints (right pointer, then left), and take a picture. Finally, you get to go through security, which is similar to the US, but I didn’t have to take my scarf or headband off, and there were no full body scanners. Finding my gate was easy enough. Before you can get on the plane, they check through your bags (by hand), give you a pat down, and re-examine your passport. My guy was really fun – we spoke 5 languages in the few minutes we were together! He was impressed that I could return greetings in Pulaar and Serer, as well as English, French, and Wolof.

Because of weather issues, our flight was extra long. I didn’t sleep too much, but I did watch Joyful Noise. We got a sandwich but I didn’t take it, opting just for water and rest.  My stomach was quite upset from all the fattaya We had breakfast about two hours before landing and it was pretty gross. I just ate the fruit and yogurt. We had to fill out a customs report. I was paranoid and declared basically everything – clothing, tea, spices, jams, purses

As this flight was landing, my other flight was boarding. I was told I’d be put on the next available flight. I went to customs, and the line was really short. Go figure, not that many people at the airport at the crack of dawn. The officer didn’t even turn over my report to see what I’d declared. Seriously, didn’t even take a glance. He just said, “Senegal, was that a vacation?” I wish I were cool enough to go to Senegal on vacation during finals week! Haha.

I met and chatted with a girl named Kayla coming home from a semester in Botswana – on the same program as some of the Beloit girls I know, including a former roommate! Small small world, I’m telling you.

My bag didn’t even get looked through – not even by a scanner. Not that I’m complaining, but customs really was a big joke on my life this morning. 10 minutes maybe. I went to go talk to customer service about a different flight, but they said they were waiting for me, and if I ran, I could make it before they closed the gates. So I re-checked my bag, and hustled on over to gate C19.

Everyone was surprisingly friendly, and even teased me a bit. As I ran through, I did have my first moment of whoa that’s different – no one talked to each other! No greetings, not even brief ones. But for the most part, I didn’t even have time to register what was going on around me.

So Chicago bound I am. It’s really just now starting to hit me. I cringed when they said the temperature was 58 degrees and windy with some haziness. I still have the image of Bintou in my head, waving as I drove away.  Djiby had called me right as I was getting to the airport, saying that there just weren’t words for right now. He said if he’d been at the airport with me, I’d be watching his tears fall. I’ve gone in waves of getting teary eyed. Even little things – like all the foods I was so excited for, I’m not even so invested anymore. I’d just as soon grab a mango and a bag of yogurt. In this, I think I’ve begun to own the fact that my ideas of what daily life should look, sound, smell, feel, and taste like have changed. Four months is not that long, but it is long enough. Doesn’t it take you 28 days to adjust to a new way of living? I’ve done 28 days several times over. It’s not that one country is necessarily better than the other; they are just so different. Is there really a way to compare them fairly?

My parents were waiting for me by the baggage claim. They saw me and said, “Look who got some color! You look sharp!” My luggage was put on the flight I was supposed to be on, so we had to wait awhile, but it was fine because we had a chance to eat. It was crazy just having my mom whip out a $20 for me – I felt the urge to crumple it up in my hand. And then I got almost $16 back in change! Whoa.

The luggage came, and we went home so I could go to Footloose at my old high school. All the trees looked so green, and of course, there was grass. It thunderstormed for me, which was very much so appreciated. My mom had tons of food for me, including granola, cereals, peanut butter cups, ice cream, snickers ice cream bars, fruit leather, mangos, chocolate chip cookies, iced coffee, strawberry/chocolate/plain milk, donuts, other snacks, and my first dinner was tacos and nachos. YUM. My mom rocks. My dad took me to this play, which I enjoyed a lot. I had moments of being overwhelmed, like before we went in, when there were a ton of people, but none of them were really paying attention to one another – no greetings, no exchange. I felt strangely alone, and even a little scared; I wonder if my dad noticed me clinging to him, reaching for his hand. I also got randomly sad and teary during parts of the play, for nothing really related to anything but that which was happening in my head.

I’m having a hard time accepting that Senegal and the US are both my life, if that makes any sense. They’re so different that it kind of feels like I’ve dreamed one of them, and the real one changes depending on the hour.

My parents liked seeing all my stuff, and haven’t yet grown tired of me. My mom currently has her nose in my Senegalese cultural values book.

I took a bath. A hot bath. And I’m wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt that’s super clean. Oh yes, my mom cleaned my whole room for me while I was gone! Amazing! So thankful.

As far as all the foods, I’ve realized that now that things are in reach, it’s all ok. I don’t feel like I have to eat everything all at once.

I’m tired, but I’m still working on settling down. I think it’ll be awhile before I figure out a new normal again. Clearly, the greetings and learning to be together were really strong for me, as it’s the thing that’s made me most uncomfortable here (the lack of it).