18 August 2008

18 August 2008

Came back yesterday. Still feeling slightly off as far as time goes. But I wanted to finish writing about the end of my journey.

To go back to where I left off at the airport, I was talking about my final day.

The morning I wrote. Ate lunch by myself and then sat in the yard with all the people going about their afternoon. I felt slightly isolated, but after the “sun moved a little,” Libon and I walked over to Isha and Seny’s.

There was a very large presence for the understanding and feeling that it was the last visit I would be making there.
Seny yelled to me out the house door and he came out drinking the home-remedy I had seen Isha make a few days before (for a cold). It was the juice of limes and lemons with mint candies in it. Tea was boiling I na pot on their stove as well. I guess he was still feeling sick.

Making me close my eyes, Isha gave me a necklace of hers. That necklace was continuing its journey from Sierra Leone through Guinea and the Gambia (and now on to America).
I was touched by the gift.

It was a sad day, everyone remarked. I enjoyed my last time of sitting, talking, etc. I’m sad to leave that life.

When Libon said in his regular questioning, “we go?” I answered with my regular answer, “okay.” And I think there was something reassuring in that banter. Leaving though was tough. Hugs and promises of seeing each other again.

Isha walked out of the compound like she had when we had left previously. Walking, holding my hand, down the road slightly, until the bend. Then it really was goodbye.

And then a silent, heavy walk home.

I gathered my things and then the cab was there to take me to the airport. The rain started coming on the way and it was as Isha predicted. Crazy rain came as we approached the airport. It wasn’t until we had arrived, that Libon realized his watch was off.

While we waited to be allowed to check in, the power went out a number of times at the Airport. It was not busy or crowded. There were only a handful of people, and some of them employees that were napping. People started coming. A woman sat down next to me who was actually a teacher from New York (I found out as I had been talking to Libon about going back to school).
The power going on and off was interesting. Not like in America, Libon asked.
Eventually, I was able to check in so that was it.

After sitting in the Banjul waiting area for a long time, and watching some weight-lifting Olympic highlights, finally we were called to go to the bus.
I realized I didn’t have a seat number, but everyone else did not as well. So after the bus pulled up to take us and we were entering the plane—it turned out to be a sit wherever type of situation. That was interesting.

They handed out the immigration forms before landing which made sense and would have been helpful on the to-Africa flight.
In Senegal, I felt more confident since I knew I had to go through the line and pick up my luggage. And I was relieved to see my djembe come off the plane.

So I got my luggage and awkwardly carried it to the other part of the building. It was very busy but I felt good seeing Delta representatives. I was stopped before making the line even thought there seemed to me to be space to go through the rope and stand in line. The manager came after like 10 minutes and said that the flight was overbooked. This was a fact I couldn’t understand. I was bewildered and didn’t know what that would turn out to mean. My mind immediately shifted to fears of being stuck for an unknown length of time in the Senegal airport.

Luckily he went over to the South African airline and checked on their flight to Dulles. He luckily noticed that I was going from New York to DC. While I wasn’t thrilled about IAD, it would mean I’d get to VA and not be in the Senegal airport.
So luckily, he was able to switch me to the one seat left. I then had to be in line for that flight. The man asked me a series of questions about packing my bag and some other about my electronics that I didn’t quite understand.

Then another person had to rifle through my bad. He was slightly perplexed by my backpack, since it didn’t open up like suitcases. And by my drum which was wrapped with tape. I think he gave up and waved me on.

Then I got my bags checked and a boarding pass. That led me to waiting at the immigration line. At that point I started getting worried that I wouldn’t make it in time to get on my new flight. Again I was worried that I’d be stuck in Senegal. People going to Madrid were being waved ahead but I had only 10 minutes until the time marked on my boarding pass, and no announcements were being made for me.

The line moved slowly and then there was a line to go through the metal detector. Then I scooted through Salon A to B. I went to the counter that was on my boarding pass but was waved on to the other counter. Getting to the right one, I was then told I had to have my carry-on bag checked. Then some more people came behind me for the same flight, but I was still worried about time.
That security man shook my malaria pills and bag but I was then allowed to board the bus—to the left, not the right—for the flight. I sat there for awhile but figured I was at least with other passengers at that point.

Eventually we pulled away and up to a huge plane. I was in row 48 and in the middle. 2 – 4 – 2 rows of seats and me in the middle of the 4. And row 48 was in the middle. It was huge.
Getting in with and already fully flight was a bit of a challenge. But got there and felt better.
Watched the Spiderwick Cronicles on the personal screen on the back of the chair in front of me.
Slept. Ate. Watched Step Up 2 and 7 hours later we were landing at Dulles.

Then we were herded into a weird train-like car to go to immigration. Stood in line. Waited for my luggage. It took a long time. It was an exciting even that both were there. Then stood in another long line to exit that area.

It was difficult to carry all of the stuff so instead of trying the bus-to-metro thing, I went to supershuttle to get home.

A long right to the DCA airport and through Capital Hill to get me home finally.

On the flight, I had a lot of movie options. There was one about a kid in South Africa which I thought I would enjoy watching. But after turning it on, I realized I was emotional about leaving and about finishing my adventure, so I couldn’t watch that movie. So like I’ve said before, there are reasons for being happy to be back, but also for staying. It’s a huge event.

I’m so glad I had this opportunity. I hope I’ll be able to return some day.

ak