blame it on the harmattan

January is the month of sand in the air – the harmattan winds are blowing in from the Sahara Desert and we are all sneezing, coughing and squinting as our eyes tear up. Well, mine are tearing up for other reasons since this is my last month in The Gambia. Over the holidays I made the decision to return home to Alaska instead of pursuing other options with the Peace Corps in the midst of our program-merger-limbo with Senegal (much larger country which completely surrounds The Gambia, other than sea shore). I'm taking a job with Rep. Paul Seaton and will be in Juneau by Feb 1 for the legislative session and back in Homer 3 months later. 

How hard it is to leave my wonderful Gambian staff family and my neighborhood kids! One of my staff likened the experience to a baby stopping breastfeeding too early.... I was sure when he was making the analogy that I was the baby and my Gambian staff family, who has taught me so much and cared so deeply for me, was the mother. But when I said “I do feel like a baby” he said, “No, we're the babies! You're the mother.” So touching. I wish I could remember every Gambian proverb that has been passed this week as we've all come to terms with the end of our time together. I'm continuing with my Wolof lessons because I must return to West Africa some day – it's such an amazing place, a model of tolerant society, and after such a short time, so close to my heart with all the beautiful people I've met.

Speaking of, my lovely children (Amidou, Mariama, Modoumusa, Sali, Kadija...) had the joy of coloring with their new art supplies from Pam Beggs today. They came over after work, as usual, and we colored out in the bantaba until it was too dark to tell the burnt sienna crayon from magenta. I didn't actually ask them to thank my mom for the crayons, rather I said “tell my mom about your crayons” and this is what they said:

Art supplies from Mom and a big kickball from my sister (which they insist is a basketball). Did I mention I went home for the holidays? Had I known in November that I would be leaving in January, I probably wouldn't have splurged on the ticket, but it also provided the separation I needed to make a thoughtful decision. My trip was a complete surprise to my family. I flew from Africa to Minneapolis (35 hours in transit), stayed the weekend with my sister, then flew to our parents' in Oregon on a companion certificate. They knew what flight she was on, but not that there were two of us. We took Amtrak from Portland to Klamath Falls and arrived under the cover of darkness. Sarah was first off the train and I watched as she hugged my dad at the station then walked to the car. I then slipped out and into the station to wait for my bag. Sarah then feigned need for a potty and ran back to the station. We'd dressed alike, with jeans and a green top. She then dressed me up in her vest, scarf and hat (covering my tell-tale brown hair) and I ran back out to the car! I thanked them for waiting and apologized - they totally thought I was Sarah. But I couldn't let them drive off and cause an accident when they discovered me, so I whipped of my hat and shocked them speechless. When I jumped out to go help Sarah with the bag, they turned to each other and asked if they had both just imagined me in the car.

So, it was a grand holiday with the fam, a little XC ski day at Crater Lake (tho snow was hard to find), and another perfect surprise of my Grandma. The day after we arrived they had planned to skype me in The Gambia. So, when Grandma arrived, I darted for the bedroom with my netbook and skyped them from “The Gambia” in the bedroom. Sarah was out in the living room with them, but excused herself to grab something... she then came in the bedroom, walked in front of the skype camera and said “Hi Grandma” casually, and walked on by. Grandma said “How'd she do that?” Then she did it again. I couldn't take it any more, so I said I was leaving to get my tea kettle off the stove and went out into the living room and hugged her. Thankfully, there was no heart attack – just a lot of hysterical giggling and crying. Mission accomplished.

On the way home I had the pleasure of clear views over north Africa and gazed at the edge of the Sahara for hours. Now I'm caught in its winds, which are blowing me in another new direction. I'm so very sad to leave my new home, but also excited to return to my old one. Yep, alaskafrica = home!