The Family

Today is my birthday. As of tomorrow, I will be closer to being 30 than to being born. I feel very young, but I can't come to grips with the fact that soon, everyone will be turning 16. We're so old. I'm going to be graduating before I know it. I'm scared. In three years I can legally get executed in most states. That's too much pressure! I'll end up killing someone out of stress. 

In any case, today, I woke up and got ready for my last day at work. I arrived there, where I was greeted by calls of "joyeux anniversaire" and by the kids. I watched a documentary about Marxism as I sat in the sandbox, one eye watching the video, one eye making sure the children weren't stabbing each other with the shovels. My day progressed a lot like the usual. Towards the end, as I tried to get away, my Italian friend, Marcia, told me we had a meeting and that I had to stay. This was an obvious lie, but I indulged her. I knew it was a surprise party, and I wasn't going to call her out on it. To my great shock, the meeting was all a ploy, and when I arrived the liars burst out singing happy birthday. We had some good cake, drank some guava juice, and said our goodbyes. I came home with one of my co-workers, to my slight disappointment. I never got to say goodbye to my beloved clandos. I went to the institute, and after a while, I came home. My family had prepared the chicken, as requested, but with it, they had put raw vegetables, salads, and raw sauces. I had to leave more than half the dish full, a deed which I think upset my host mother. After the dinner, we took photos. It was an experience, as I hate taking photos. I cannot smile naturally, and it always feels very uncomfortable to me.

From left to right: Fama Ba, Libasse Laye, Zeynaba Laye, Issa Laye, Fatou Laye, Mbaye Laye, David Villani 

The teenage girl, Zeynaba, is similar to a teenager that I know in that she's often on her phone, she takes selfies and watches TV.

The little girl, Fatou, is very sweet, cheerful, and upbeat. She's a pleasure to be around

I sleep in the same room as Libasse. Issa has been very nice, and I gave him two of my shirts (an Italy jersey and a Whitman track shirt)

I also took some pictures of the house. The house is small, rat and cockroach infested, and dirty, but cozy, with a lovely l

The front door

The room next to the front door. This is where I brush my teeth.

The corridor from the door to the main part of the house. This is where the Fatou and Zeynaba watch their telenovelas

The living room, where the father spends most of his days, and where I often go myself

I sit on the right sofa, and the father sits on the left. He puts his mat in front of him when he prays

My amazing bed in my huge, luxurious room

The print of Sedyna Limamou Laye that hangs over my room

The kitchen

The dreaded bathroom. I would have taken a picture of the inside, but it's no use going in there if I have no real reason to do so. In addition, a photo would fail to capture the smell or my stress.

The street

It's almost over. For better or for worse, I will be in the air this time tomorrow. This is currently an exciting thought for me. Who knows what I'll feel this time tomorrow. I'm almost done. I made it. I can't believe I made it.