At about 8:15 I called Francois to look over the apartment and check us out. While finishing up everything Zane jets off to the bathroom and is in ther moaning groaning. I tell him to take his time to make sure he gets it all out before we have to get in a taxi. He comes out looked beat up, comes over to hug me but before he can even reach me he starts vomiting!!!!
I do everything I can to NOT go into panic mode. I too had been feeling sick and we sure that both of our problems were from the malaria medication we'd both been taking. My greatest fear was bringing him to the airport and him throwing up; after visiting west Africa that would be a sure way of being quarenteen mrs for Ebola. I quickly wiped up the watery vomit while Francois was on the balcony. I cleaned Zane up and told him that we were going home he'd just have to be sick on the plane. He said he isn't need to throw up anymore but he was tired. Francois and Dude were very concerned, Francois offered to take us to the doctor who owned the apartment but I refused I was determined to make it to the airport on time and get my sick baby home.
Francois hailed us a taxi, I thanked him for all his amazing help, and we were off.
At the airport things were great Zane had a few woozy moments but never threw up again. The attendant who helped check us in was named Amadou Ba. I saw this as a positive sign as one of my favorite students of all time is also named Amadoi Bah. Bah with an H. I thought that was pretty cool and so did the boys since they knew most of my students well, especially Amadou who is a mentor to them.
After about 30 minutes of checking in we were seated on the plane and Zane fell fast asleep. Our new friend Deke was also in our flight. The ride home was a great moment to reflect on yet another amazing adventure, so many things were wonderful. It's always nice visiting a great city, eating great food, meeting kind people, finding another small piece of the puzzle known as humanity.
After all my deep reflection and feminine emotional junk I started watching movies to relax. For the life of me I don't know why I decided to watch "12 years a slave" after just seeing the homeland that tens of millions were stolen from. My students often fussed at me for never having seeing this movie that I would later find haunting me.
The Trans- Atlantic slave trade was, is, definitely one of the world's greatest atrocities. To have witnessed it's "set up" (for lack of a better word), from both sides of the ocean from one of its places of orgin to many of its final destination in the diaspora is truly humbling and an honor to experience with the level of freedom and privilege that these same ancestors have gifted me through their unimaginable pain and suffering. Each time I think of our time in senegal I remember the beautiful people who seemed to glide on air, gorgeous beaches, the safety of a peaceful community, the sweltering heat of Africa. I remember delicious food and the rythmn of the Kess Kess, glowing black skin, smiles, heads held high, detailed architecture, crazy taxi drivers, and so much more. These memories will always stay with me. Always. And each time I reflect on these memories I will also hear the words of Maya Angelou "we are the dreams and the hopes of the slaves."
Just as they have passed their blood and DNA to me over the generations I also carry their dreams and their hopes, I felt them with us on this journey. Because they were, we are... And I am forever thankful for their sacrifice. It was lovely to bring them all home. We look forward to visit Dakar again.
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