I’m in Brussels. At the train station. It’s Saturday, 2 Oct at 7:45 a.m. I’m waiting for my train to Basel. It’s too early to wander the street, so I’m here in the station drinking coffee and catching up on my feelings, my accumulated response to the last six months.
The 48 hours since Thursday morning at this time have been intense. There were many things to be completed prior to my departure from Dakar, including a wonderful bon voyage dinner party on Thursday evening. Paul and I went to the market in morning and stocked up on fresh fish, which he grilled, avocadoes and tomatoes, lovely little new potatoes and very special ice cream from Gusto Galcier down the street. We were a small but noisy crowd: Rachel and Emily, my friends who teach at the International School Dakar, my friend Anne who teaches French at the cultural institute in Dakar, and Philippe and Aisha who we met through our Hospital of Hope work. I was overjoyed to see my friends mix and blend and like each other. The food was fantastic, and the evening ended with Paul sharing his music, which was a rare pleasure for all of us.
And then it was Thursday, d –day…that’s d for departure. The day was very busy with last minute errands, and of course, underlying activity was a powerful desire to avoid the inevitable emotion of the inevitable parting. The mood at lunch was somber…As eloquently as I could – between the sniffles and the laughs--I thanked them all for the incredible comfort and care they had given me. And I was surprised by the affection and sadness communicated by Aita and Suzette in their smiles, their tears and their embraces. Ba’s beautiful brown eyes overflowed…he was sorry to see me go but happy as well. He understands separation from loved ones. Today he is going home to his family, his first vacation with them this year, and he understands the deep loneliness of finding “home” with people who are not yours.
But nothing prepared me for leaving Seal and Nathalie and Paul. From the moment Seal woke on Friday, he wanted to hang out with me. Nathalie thinks he was sensing a change…throughout the day, he came to find me, just to hang out…play trucks, splash in the pool, kick the tennis ball…just stuff that’s fun. He held my finger all the way to the airport and when Nathalie told him that I was leaving, he repeated it and seemed to understand. But leaving is an abstract idea that doesn’t make must sense until the separation is evident. At the airport, we had group hugs, professions of love, group hugs, thank yous, group hugs. Seal was ok, ok, ok, and then, he wasn’t. As I pulled away and walked toward the terminal, he let loose with a heart-wrenching “Fanie! Fanie!” and started shedding big old tears.
This was the part of the "days in Dakar" that I couldn’t have anticipated…the growing relationship between Seal and me. Today is his 2nd birthday. There’s a new vehicle--a gift from me. I hope he likes it. He should. He loves anything with two, four or even 18 wheels. Maybe he’ll connect Fanie with his new “communitie,” which is the generic name for brightly colored community bus that are common throughout Africa. Maybe he won’t.
But there’s absolutely no question about my connection to Seal. He just might be the most life-changing of all the experiences I've ever had.
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