So my parents left Senegal to return to the land of milk and honey (and, as I sometimes conveniently forget, full time jobs and bills and taxes). I'm so happy they came, and I'm thankful that their reaction to Senegal was excessively positive, though I sometimes begrudged them their lack of nuanced interpretation of events.
Of course that's unfair of me, but sometimes I just wanted to remind them that my life in Senegal isn't all vacation time at the beach and my host sister doesn't usually, or ever, cook me salads for dinner. I'm glad I was able to help them see Senegal at its finest, but sometimes felt like I had to justify my occasional moanings and groanings about life as a PCV.
I have to give them credit, though. My parents were champs. It's not like we spent our vacation riding in air conditioned vehicles and sleeping in $300 a night hotel rooms. They roughed it in tents and on public transport, and when a huge, overstuffed van we were riding in swerved off the road, over a bunch of bushes and and into a tree, my parents took it like true Senegalese. They shrugged their shoulders, grabbed their bags and got off the car to wait for another on the side of the road. In the end, I can't really complain that they weren't complaining.
As nice as it was to spend some time with my parents, I have to admit that I breathed a bit of a sigh of relief when I dropped them off at the airport. I think they were ready to give me a break, too. I've got a lot going on right now, and they had seen me struggle to keep up with working while guiding them around Senegal. It was tough. It's no secret among Peace Corps volunteers that hosting family members can be one of the hardest things we do during our service. And then there's the distinct possibility that I've lost both my mind and my ability to play well with others in this year of independence and loneliness, and I will one day return to America a confused, antisocial being.
Of the things I'm juggling right now, perhaps the biggest is my impending move to Linguere. I'm going to be taking on a new role as a Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL), coordinating regional work and supporting volunteer projects. The 7-soon-to-be-9 of us in Linguere are very isolated, and we desperately need someone to act as a leader/communications liaison/community outreacher/professional whip-cracker. I think it will be a good new challenge for me, too.
I can't say I'm ready to leave the village, but just as the finite nature of our Peace Corps service has taught many a villager to accept the constant comings and goings of their dear pet toubabs, it is also forcing me to get over my habit of attachment. Not only am I packing up and moving out, I'm also watching Cruger and Dana, the two older volunteers from Linguere who have been constant companions over the past year, get ready to return home and move on (Dana's going to grad school and Cruger's getting married, yay!).
And just as Cruger and Dana are leaving, the new group of Environmental Education and Health trainees have arrived. Included in that group is my mystery replacement--the very lucky volunteer who will be living in Barkedji come May. I met the group at the airport when they arrived, shell-shocked, at 5 am, and then traveled with them to Thies where they're doing their training. I spent a week at the training center with them, teaching them how to eat, demonstrating gardens and tree nurseries, and guiding them around Thies. They are super!
And so as sad as it is constantly say goodbye to older volunteers, it's equally as exciting to welcome new friends to the country. I like the way Peace Corps service is punctuated by the 6-month shuffle, though seeing new volunteers arrive always instills a bit of terror in me: Does this mean I'm supposed to be feel experienced and knowledgeable now? I sure hope not.
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