An Open Thank You Letter to My Nioro Family

Note: My ‘Nioro family’ certainly includes my loving host family but it also includes my school family at Adja Penda Ba who have all worked together to make sure I feel at home in Nioro!

An Open Thank You Letter to my Nioro Family-

Thank you…

To everyone for being so patient with me while I integrate into Senegalese culture. Thank you for never complaining when I spill so much fish when trying to eat with my hand that it attracts nearby cats to our outdoor dinner. Thank you for teaching me how to make ataaya and yassa gin even when you could do it better and faster. Especially thank you to my sister Sally who sits with me while I do my weekly laundry and lovingly does a ‘second round scrub’ for everything I attempt to thoroughly clean. Even though you play this off as normal, I know it is because you see how much food I spill and want to make sure my clothes are actually clean.

Thank you…

For helping me learn the language despite botched pronunciations. Thank you to my family who gives me the next day’s necessary Wolof commands when I lesson plan in the evenings. Thank you to all the teachers who have seen me at a loss for words when working with students and quickly translate my French to a) better French or b) Wolof. Though it is sometimes hard to believe, I think I am making progress!

Thank you…

To all my new teacher friends who noticed when I wore my fanciest Senegalese dress on a Friday. Thank you for praising my recognition of Friday as a weekly dress-up day, and then praising my choice of wax cloth and style. Though I was a little hesitant putting it on the morning I knew it was the right choice when everyone broke into a smile and said “Susannah- robe bu rafet!”

Thank you…

To my fellow teachers and my family for reassuring and comforting me after the roughest two teaching hours of my life. Even though the sweaty, stressful train wreck was embarrassing, disheartening, and frustrating you reminded me of how much I learned and the undeniable difficulty of the situation. The stress of the 60 students in 1060F heat was (almost) worth it when I realized how supported I am here both professionally and emotionally.

Thank you…

To you to my best teacher friend who invited me to her house for lunch and brought me to her personal favorite tailor after a long week (that included the above teaching trauma!). Thank you for having your favorite jakarta (motorbike taxi) driver take me to your house, where I was warmly welcomed by your family. Thank you for letting me rest in your very own bedroom before lunch because it was so hot and the room had a fan. And most thoughtfully, thank you for remembering our conversation a few days earlier about the lack of dessert in Senegal and sending me home with various packets of high-end cookies you had hunted down just for me.

Thank you…

To the Senegalese nursing intern staying in our house who goes out of her way to include me in her daily activities. I am so grateful for the way you always ask me to tag along on trips to visit your nearby friends and families, the walks to the weekly market, and your willingness to help me figure out phone cards and directions.

Thank you…

To Sally for discreetly leaving cold Sprite next to my bed after I spent a long time in the bathroom (sorry for the TMI!). Even after three months my Western stomach does not seem to be terribly fond of Senegalese food, but it helps when someone has always got my back and gives me something to fizzy to drink without me even asking.

Thank you…

To everyone in the family compound who checks in with me each time I walk through the gate. No matter whether you are disciplining a little one or stirring lunch over a coal fire you make sure to say ‘hey’ and ask after my morning at school. I love that there never seems to be a dull moment here and at just about any time of the day I can find someone in the sitting room watching Nollywood TV.

Thank you…

To my students. I have a place in my heart for every class that I have ever been a part of but the students of Adja Penda Ba will always strike a certain chord. Thank you to the mischievous boys who always keep me on my toes. Even when I feel like I am constantly calling you out for not wearing shoes, chewing on chalk or slapping your bench partner, I am often more amused than angry. Thank you to the ‘teacher’s helper’ girls who make sure I have control over a rambunctious Friday afternoon class and make sure I am always understood. Despite the fact that I couldn’t really do much with the rubber whip you tried to hand me when one table was especially chatty, I know that a few years down the line in an American classroom I will be wishing you were there to hand over the powerful discipline tool.

Thank you to all of my students. You are making my experience in Nioro as meaningful as it is. You seem to never hold a grudge, never lose your enthusiasm, and always greet me with a smile and the typically courteous Senegalese handshake. Even though your names are just a little too complicated for me to memorize fully, I promise you that I know each and every one of you. I know the girl in the third row with the red head scarf and the long eyelashes who often knows the vocab word but rarely raises her hand. I know that the boy who likes to sit on the side bench can never be allowed to sit next to the boy who wears blue Crocs because together they are impossible but apart they are always engaged. I know the girl with the pigtail braids loves to use a different color of chalk to write every word and was one of the first to memorize all the body parts in English. I know the tall boy in the back who is so quiet that I am not he understands but will actually get every single card correct in Verb Charades.

Each time I walk into the classroom I know we are all in this together. As we struggle, as we fail, as we succeed we are all part of the same family of learners. These six weeks are proving to be some of the most rewarding, challenging, and incredible weeks of my life and I know I will always remember my students, friends, and family in Nioro du Rip, Senegal.