Unexpected Feelings

I am writing this after FaceTiming Anjeli. It's the second time today I've FaceTimed her, and it probably won't be the last. This is what my life is right now. This is very, very good news. Not only am I talking to her, which is an amazing thing in it of itself, but I also feel closer to my world. I can speak English and be myself. This is significantly improving the situation here in Senegal.

Today, the countdown has reached the single digits. Nine days till I leave. And interestingly enough, the closer I get to a date that once could not have come soon enough, I start to feel some sadness. I want to get far, far away, but as I see my old world, full of conflicts in family and in debate, with grades and piano, I find myself calmed by the relative simplicity of life here in Senegal. I've gotten used to the stenches, the animals, the chaos and the filth. I'm close to my life in the West, close enough to feel the stress and the anxiety. Here, I need to be careful to never eat anything raw, I need to wash my hands every chance I get, I need to sing in the shower to scare off the rats that infest my house. And yet, this has been my life for what feels like months, and all in all, it's a life where the responsibilities of the West are left behind. It's a rare occasion where my parents are allies, not adversaries. Ever day that passes I feel less and less alone, more at home. I still want this to be over, and I still look at the planes departing from Léopold Sédar Senghor International Airport with immense longing, but this feeling is more and more bittersweet. This is very strange. A week ago I was ready to ask my parents for the ticket home. Today, I ask myself if I'll be all that happier back home. This is the talk of someone who is wishing sickness on himself, someone far too bold for his own good. But it's what I really feel. When I come home, it'll be the beginning of the transition back to school, and these next few days will be the freest of responsibility for a long while. Who knows. Maybe I'll miss this bizarre place. Nowhere will I see herds of goats being led to the sea for a bath. The sandy stretch in front of the mausoleum of Seydina Mouhammadou Limamou Laye is a sight few people will ever see in their lives. I am starting to appreciate this experience. 

And yet I have to remind myself that today, one of my fellow interns is at the hospital sick with malaria, another one couldn't come because of intestinal problems, and another one suffered from the same intestinal problems. I cannot grow complacent. It's already a huge oddity that I need to remind myself of this fact.