An Open Thank You Letter to My Host Family

Hosting an unknown college student in your house is not for the faint of heart. It is one thing to allow someone to occupy your spare room for a couple days, but it is another thing all together to invite a culturally curious 20 year-old into your home and into your family for four months. I have been blessed with a host family that respects my personal space and autonomy while also allowing me to feel less like a boarder and more like another daughter. These are just some of the small things that have made my time special, and help highlight the Senegalese value of teranga (hospitality).

Thank you…

For not losing faith in me and my French ability after the first night, when it took me far too long to figure out that you were offering me bread with dinner because in my jetlagged and nervous state I had a mental block on the word “pain.” You probably envisioned some very rough impending conversations but you remained patient and continued to make valiant communication efforts. We know our able to have long conversations after dinner centered on politics, Senegalese history, civil rights, and cultural differences, but these moments are only able to happen because you have made it a safe place for me to practice a second language.

Thank you…

To my three “little brothers” who are 100% mischievous but always have a grin on their face when they

look out the window and see me coming up the dusty path on my way home from school. Thank you for all the games of “cache-cache” (hide and seek) and soccer in the courtyard. Thank you for teaching me more French words than anyone else and appropriately mocking my American accent whenever I start to feel too confident.

Thank you…

For the time when we had to translate Wolof proverbs and even though I said we needed to figure out the meaning for only a few, you sat with me and attempted to read all 50 Wolof expressions because you said you wanted “your sister to have the best homework in the class.” Thank you for being so dedicated to our pursuit that you recruited the help of everyone in the house, including the maid and the night guard to figure out the confusing written Wolof.

Thank you…

For the time when we made crepes on Mardi Gras. As the classic Fat Tuesday treat is a tradition I always participate in at home in America, seeing you over the outdoor stove flipping the thin pancakes helped ward off any sneaky pangs of homesickness.

Thank you…

For the time you didn’t know I was feeling a little tired and overwhelmed, but you choose that moment to bring me a pack of Trident chewing gum you had purchased in the US because you thought I might like a “taste of home.” On that note, thank you for putting the Irish Barry’s teabags I brought as a gift out on the breakfast table every morning.

Thank you…

To the maid, Cybor who always lets me practice my shaky Wolof expressions as she sits over a pot in the kitchen, stirring onions, carrots, and cassava for our dinner. Every afternoon before entering the house I take a couple seconds to decide which new phrase to share, and I know that my attempt will always be met with a laugh, a slight shake of the head, and then a gentle correction. Thank you also to Cybor for all the mornings when the water is out and she fills a bucket for me to use for my shower, gently knocking on my bedroom door in the dim light of the morning to let me know the water is waiting.

Thank you…

For the way you sing “Susannah” in the style of the once-popular Senegalese song of the same name whenever you see me after we have been a part for a while.

Thank you…

For all the times I tried to thank you for the kindness but you just looked at me slightly confused, and shared you were only doing what families do, as you told me “this is your house and you are part of our family.”