Saying Goodbye

So a few days ago I said goodbye to my host family. This comes with every volunteer service, but for me this was such a difficult moment. Tears were accompanied by sadness and fear. I was afraid, because I wasn't sure when I would see them again. And when I did, who would still be around. The life expectancy here is about 48 for men and 52 for women.
The last few days at site were very moving, eventful, and sad. It started on Christmas Eve, when my host father and I were sitting in his home talking until very late about everything. Tapha always full of compliments and sound advice telling me how much I would be missed, what he would do when I was gone and how we could stay in touch after I was home. Then, he told me that he wanted to offer me something and that if I would accept then he would take care of all of the paperwork, taxes, etc. I asked what he intended on giving me. He looked at me with a huge smile on his face and said that he wanted to give me some land. I thought he was joking and asked my host mom Ndaye about it. She said that no one had ever been offered this type of a gift and that I should be quite happy, because he was in fact, very serious. I agreed that I would accept his gift and we talked about how we would take care of everything the next morning. The next day we went out to see the land he intended to give me, a piece of land of about an acre and half. Then he called my host mothers Ndaye and Pul, my Mauritanian friend Baddy, and my aunt Kumba Tega. We waited for my witnesses to come with the kola nuts, which are commonly giving at large events and ceremonies. When they arrived we broke them up and shared them among ourselves. I took a few pictures, while Tapha buried some posts at all the corners of "my property." The last picture he took of this event was one of my favorites so far in my two years here. Everyone is showing their happiness through their smiles (which is not common in pictures here) and myself in the middle with a bandanna over my face (I was unable to stop coughing and the wind was carrying so much sand) looking like a bandit. Tapha at the end of the ceremony looked at me and said in English "This is your Christmas present, Merry Christmas!" That was probably the best Christmas present I have ever been giving. He also said in Wolof "Now you have no excuse to not come back, maybe next time you can bring you wife and children here and construct a house for yourself?" I agreed and felt very honored and humble.
After this wonderful day things went as normal. Except for everyone coming by my house and congratulating me on my land. As the days past I started to notice that I was waiting for the inevitable and how much I would miss my family.
Tapha had another surprise in store for me though. It occurred the night before I was to leave. I was sitting outside talking with my family, when Tapha said "go take a bath and when you get done I want to show you something." He usually never said it that way, but I follow his wishes and when I was done I exited my hut to find a music set in front of it. As the music started to play and everyone danced I felt so immensely happy. As the night progressed onward I danced with my host mothers, aunts, sisters, brothers, cousins, and friends from the village. I learned to dance like a Senegalese wrestler and a Gambian. My sisters hugged me and thanked me, my host father Tapha was even dancing. That night I was emotional. The dancing ended around 2am and everyone went to bed. I was unable to sleep that night. I couldn't stop thinking about the coming morning. As the morning light slowly pierced through my curtains I knew that I had not slept a wink.
When I stepped outside a lit a cigarette, I noticed a small fire in my aunt's compound. I wandered slowly in that direction, the cold biting my face. There I sat for a few hours talking to my aunt Kumba and the kids. Later, my host moms called me and we went into my empty hut, (I had given most of belongs to my family) drinking attaya and dancing again. All the women came from around the village and joined us. We did this until the car arrived.
When the car finally arrived, all the people waiting (maybe 65) started to pray for me. At that point the weight of sadness I had been carrying for the last few days finally hit me. A flood of tears covered my face. My host moms came up and told to me to stop crying, that I was loved and was a good person, and I needed to get in the car. But, couldn't stop. Then I heard waling coming from my aunts compound all the kids were crying, I asked for Tapha. The men were saying that he had ran away to cry and that I could not see him. My sister was screaming at me to stop crying. I looked at my sisters one last time and when they saw my face they started to cry and ran away. I could barely stand. I cried and cried. Eventually I escorted to the car. When I got in and we left I glanced back out the side mirror to see all my little brothers and sisters running after the car crying.
I talked to Tapha later that day and he told me he was sorry for not saying bye, but that he was so incredibly sad, that he could not see me. He also said that after I left my family laid in bed all day and did not eat lunch. It was so hard to hear that, but I knew it would be hard. I also did not eat that day. We have talked a couple times since then and everything is better now, but it is still hard to talk about it.
I will come back and I will build a home here, because out of this experience I was giving an amazing second family. I want to be able to come back and stay for a few months and see them again.
Also this blog is about to change...to a Turkey/Balkans travel blog. So if you are still interested in checking out what I am doing, then this is the place to find out.