Leaving the Dix

Truly one of the greatest experiences of my life has come to an end. I came to my little village of PK10 a complete stranger and I'm leaving as a genuine family and community member. The kindness and joy we have share is incredible. i couldn't even begin to express my appreciation and love for my host family. For them to be willing to move out of their small home and live under the hangar--the local name for the relatively large communal tent--for two months, giving a total stranger their one solid structure to hide and rest in is an incredible act of generosity that I believe you'd be hard pressed to find anyone in the states willing to do that; truly immeasurable. There was a tear as I got in the taxi to return to Rosso for the completion of the training phase. The laughs we have made together--mostly at my expense as a result of not having solid language skills--will resonate in my mind through the toughest days here in Mauritania. As I left my host mom, Mbarka, I called to her, "Ma-isselam Daedda." (Peace be with you mom.) She smiled and called me her son through the heaviest of sobs. If there is anything I can do to ever repay Mbark, Alione (my host father) and Mighin (my host brother), it will be to work as hard as I can for the people of Jeddah and at least begin the process of development there. I have never known such genuine hospitality and warmth, so much welcome here that it embarrasses southern hospitality's claim as the best.

The day before I left, the youngest of the children in my host family--oddly enough, named Mama, 3 years old--had been saying all afternoon, "Ibrahim, ma masshi." (Ibrahim, don't go._ After lunch I lay down for the usual afternoon nap, with the wonderful sense of familial love wrapping me. I'm not sure how long I had been asleep before I woke to an odd tickling at the bottom of my right foot. I had half-woken and begun to watch Mama's diligent work. The little 3 year old had gotten the rope used to tie our family's donkey at night and retied it to the center post of the hangar. She had then turned her attention to my foot. As best as a little girl could tie a rope, my foot was attached to the family tent. When Mama had finished, she ran to Mbarka and proudly announced that I wouldn't be able to leave. Mbarka and I shared a warm smile of understanding over Mama's hugging shoulders. I could have never imagined that I would have touched them as deeply as they have touched me. There was some part of me that wanted that rope to stay attached, but in all honesty there will always be a cord back to that home, running straight from the deepest part of my heart.