Where Love Is Free

I’d never felt so anxious in my life. As if something was coming, something for me. Every Summer, I’d hang out at the airport in Dakar and do various jobs for tourists like carrying bags to cabs, directing them to hotels, agreeing to be their tour guide while they were visiting my country, and even showing them where villages were that had ceremonies people from other places in the world paid a lot of money to see. The money was enough for me to buy my school books, clothes, and food for me and my friends. I’d met so many different kinds of people from places I had only read about or seen on television, but this year was different from the others. My cousins were returning home, after five years of touring the United States of America as performers. With them, they were bringing students who had studied under them. Me and a couple of my friends had been hired by my eldest cousin, Tairou, to be of service during the two weeks the students would be visiting.

Pacing the small space set aside for porters, family of those arriving, and cab drivers; I pushed up the sleeves of my prayer gown wishing I had worn something lighter. The sweet Senegalese breeze blew in one sleeve and out the other, almost as if to say, “Relax, Mamadou”. Air Afrique was late, as usual. Kicking off my sandy, flip flops, I pulled myself up on the banister dividing the people waiting from the ones entering. Taking a big breath in and filling my lungs with the smoke of nearby grills cooking the local street foods, I sighed, closed my eyes, and begin to pray that the flight went well. They would all be here soon. My best friend, Bah, came over to where I was sitting and joined me. “Let’s get something to eat, man, the plane is late and I’m hungry.” He pointed over at the grills surrounded by locals and tourists waiting for some debe (grilled lamb). Looking over I felt my stomach agree with him, but my mind refused to allow me to move. “Hey,” I responded stretching my neck to look over the crowds, trying not to miss a thing, “how about you grab us something to eat...I don’t want to miss Tairou and Ibu when they get here…” Bah looked at me as if I had lost my mind, but I ignored him and he left to get the food.

My Mom is a seer. She had predicted most of my families child births and marriages. Last week she came to me, without being called to. She came to visit me where I had built a home on my Auntie’s compound, which was Tairou and Ibu’s home. Shocked to see her, I asked why she had come. She smiled at me and said, “My son, you will leave me soon.” I didn’t understand her. I had already left home and made my own place and way in the world. Noticing my confusion, she laughed and said, “Not in the way you think. You will replace me in your heart. Your heart will travel far away from here and it will never come back. You will be changed forever.” I had always wanted to travel outside of Medina, Senegal...see Europe and America’s lands, study at many institutes, as my father had done, who was also a scholar. A part of me felt a sadness because I never wanted my mom to feel my ambitions would take me away from her never to return. I held her hands and looked her in the eyes. She smiled at me and shook her head, then looked down at the floor. “Mom, I will leave one day, but I will come back. I can not leave you. I can not replace you.” She scoffed, “Oh but you will, Mamadou, you will,” and she let go of my hands and left me alone to contemplate her words.

The memory of this brief visit by my mom plagued my thoughts and filled my head with visions of one day flying off this continent to another one, far away. I was so engulfed in my daydream that I had not noticed the uproar from the crowd as my cousin and his group of Americans made their way through the exit gate to leave the airport. Jumping down from the bannister I tried to find my slippers, but they were nowhere within my view. Raising my arm and standing on my toes, stretching almost as if trying to touch the sky, I tried to get my cousins’ attention as they walked by. “AY Tairou! Ibu! AYYY!” I hollered like a child who had lost their parents. Ibu turned to look for my voice and when he saw me he waved and shouted, “AYYYY Mamadou, Kai! Kai! Let’s go!” I wanted to come as he had ordered but not without anything on my feet. Desperate, I bent down in the midst of hundreds of feet wearing shoes, sandals, slippers, sneakers...none of them mine. People started to move and kick me in the process. “Hey! You see me here!” I yelled up from the ground. Through the shuffle of feet I see my slippers coming towards me. “Mamadou! What are you doing? Dawui nada…”, I grabbed someone’s arm to quickly pull myself up and was face to face with Bah. He shook his head and pointed at his temple as if to say I was crazy. There was no time to fuss with him, “My shoes! Why did you take my slippers?!” He quickly kicked them off and put back on his sandals. “Oh man I’m sorry, my sandals make my feet hurt...I think they’re too small...and you weren’t wearing yours, so I thought I could be fast…”, sliding my feet into my slippers, I rushed through the crowd and yelled over my shoulder, “At home ok, not at an airport! You don’t take a man’s shoes at an airport!” He followed close behind with our food that I had forgotten about at this point. My spirit whispered, “Hurry...hurry…”

It seemed like forever to reach the sidewalk where everyone stood waiting to get on the autobus. I began grabbing bags from the ground and throwing them to whoever was sitting on the top of the bus to fasten the luggage down. Bah stood watching….eating. “Hey!” I called over to him, “Some of that is mine, right?” Nodding he fanned me on with his hand, mouth full of juicy chunks of onion dressed lamb. I bit down on my lips to keep from speaking and continued to work. By the time everything was loaded on, so were the people, and there was nowhere for me to sit on the inside of the autobus. So Bah and I, along with two other guys, jumped onto the back and the sides of the bus and held on to whatever we could, as the bus pulled out from in front of the airport. I could hear my cousins excited voices inside, as they told their students all about the people and the land.

We traveled further and further away from the airport, with each mile, my excitement began to die down. I don’t know what I was expecting...someone to hand me a ticket and say, “Come with me to Paris!”? Or to be offered a job in America and asked to board a flight right then and there? Lowering my head to avoid sand getting into my face, I started to wish I hadn’t come. There was nothing special about this Summer. Now, here I am stuck helping my cousins and their students when I could be making a lot more money had I stayed at the airport and continued to take on random jobs as they were offered.

Instead of taking the students straight to the compounds they would be staying in, Ibu and Tairou wanted to go see their mom and decided to surprise her and their guests by going straight to her home. As the bus turned onto the street where I lived, I could hear Ibu yelling, as if he’d lost his mind, “I want to see my mom! I want my mom!” Before the bus stopped moving we all jumped off and Ibu pushed the bus doors open and leaped out like a child. My auntie was standing out front waiting for them and he ran into her arms. That moment did lift my spirits for a while. I was so happy for my cousins and auntie, but still a little jealous. They could have this experience of longing, being anticipated, anxious, because they had gone away and returned better than they were when they left. One day, I hope to have an opportunity to see that level of pride in my parent’s eyes.

As soon as everyone was unloaded off the bus, the drums started playing in a feverish pitch and speed. Neighbors came out to see and entered the courtyard where Ibu was kicking up a storm of sand dancing, as Tairou played lead drum for him. He was dressed like rappers I had seen in music videos. His gold chain bounced up and down on his chest, while his white t-shirt sparkled as if brand new. I envyed his black jeans and matching jacket, and watched as the long locks, I was unable to grow, sprouted from his head. The women leaped into the circle that had formed around him, dancing and jumping up and down. The energy was outstanding. Different students also joined the dancing, doing solos using steps in the American style Ibu had taught them. Some of them were very good. I watched, disinterested. The sun began to set as we led, sweaty, exhausted bodies through the darkness and back on to the buses.

When we reached Yembeul, it was so dark that we had to take out flashlights for the Americans to be able to see where they were going. We were used to this...walking with the night, under the moon, one with the stars. Many of the students stumbled in the sand and struggled with heavy luggage. Trying not to laugh out loud, Bah tapped my leg as he caught up with me. We exchanged a knowing glance. The compound was at the end of a long, sandy, alleyway. When we got there, the women had cooked some food. My stomach gave thanks, because my debe had been long gone thanks to my buddy. After eating dinner, the students, whined about being soo tired from their flights, and all went into their chosen rooms and fell asleep. Two of them did not. The electricity came on and there was a small cheer, you could hear from those still awake. One of the girls plugged in a radio and started to play music. I looked at my friends, that were hanging out with me, smoking cigarettes and talking. They were already looking at the two young, black American, girls. We grabbed our chairs and slippers and moved over to the porch in front of their room. “It’s ok we sit here?” I asked for the group of thirsty looking Senegalese men standing behind me. The girls smiled and nodded, continuing to set up their room with candles, prayer mats, crystals, and notebooks. With bottled water, and American snacks like Pringles chips and Gourmet cookies the two young ladies sat down in front of us, on a mat. We all bonded, eternally, through conversation that lasted all night, and had existed before we were born.

Obviously jet-lagged they couldn’t sleep and just as we asked questions, so did they. Seated at the center of my friends who had formed a semi circle beside me, I felt like I had found my gift. Intelligence. For once, being a student and not a performer was paying off. Not only could I understand and communicate with these women, but they were intrigued by my thoughts and opinions on a variety of topics. Eventually I grew tired of translating for my friends, who didn’t speak anything more than Wolof or French. They curled up on mats and slowly fell asleep. Footsteps came towards us in the dark. We looked into the flashlight of a weary looking, older, white woman - one of the travelers with my cousin.

“Hey guys…” she began, “I know we’re all very excited to be here, right now, but a few of us are trying to sleep and wanted to ask that you keep it down, a little bit...the radio is soo loud and then the laughing and talking...that’s fine, but if you could turn the radio down, at least…” I looked at the faces of the three women. One pleading, the other two filled with disbelief. Fatou, the younger of two black ladies answered, “No I’m sorry, we can’t keep it down. We are in Africa!” Then Malaikah, her friend added, “We‘re the first in our family to travel here! Do you know how hard it is for us to get here? Do you know what it means to us to be here, right now? I’m sorry, if we are disturbing your sleep, I really am, but we won’t keep it down.” The white woman smiled, nervously. “I’m sorry miss. It’s ok, we will not wake you again. Thank you,” as I spoke she looked at me and nodded. “I’m sorry to bother you guys,” she whispered as she retreated back to her room. “I donno how yal can sleep! First night here, I’m still taking it all in!” Malaikah looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, then took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. The air was sweet, night sky kissed the distant ocean, insects sang their mating calls, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Trying to leave this beautiful place didn’t seem so important any more. I was staring into her soul…

In my mind’s eye, she had a radiant, white light, tracing her entire body. When she spoke, she was shy, but confident in her beliefs. Fatou went in their room and layed down, leaving me alone with her. Malaikah. I sat back in my chair, lit another cigarette, crossed my legs, and tried not to smile. We talked about everything...life...family...the future...love. That part of the overnight conversation remains in my mind. When we spoke of love. She told me, where she came from, they did not believe in love at first meeting. Though the concept of love at first sight, which I thought was an American thing, was my cultural way of thinking...feeling, she said to many, it was only a myth. Something that didn’t really happen but sounded nice. “So how do you know you love someone? “ I asked filled with curiosity. She smiled, “Well, a couple will go on dates.”

“Dates? What is this - “dates”? I don’t understand.”

She laughed at my naivety and answered, “A date is when the couple that is interested in each other go out together...like to dinner...or a movie...or dancing. After some time, then they can decide if they know each other well enough to call their feelings, love or to call it quits.” I shook my head while she spoke. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. It took time to know how you feel about someone? That makes no sense. These people did not understand, love, at all. She stopped talking and looked at me a little ashamed. She was realizing that maybe the way she knew was not the way, especially not the only way. I finally got up the courage to speak from my heart. “Malaikah….love is a feeling. You can not control love. You can not give love a time or a schedule. That is not love. Love is free. Love is just love...like how I know I love you.” There was silence. I regretted saying what I had said. Maybe I should have waited. Maybe she was right and love did need to wait on timing. She smiled a little and became shy. She wouldn’t look at me. I never moved my eyes. She had shoulder length dredlocks, light brown, that framed her brown skin face. Soft, lips, that would give way to her mesmerizing voice and interesting thoughts. I wanted to kiss them. Her body was long, tall, and thin, like mine. The clothing she wore was traditional to West African style, her name was even African. We were meant to be lovers. Then finally, she spoke.

“Wow...what a night…” she laughed a little and shook her head, “Mamadou...what are we gonna do…? My head and heart are kinda fighting each other right now….I’m Ibu’s girlfriend…” and I think I died a little inside at that very moment. She was here with my cousin - the star - of course. He would have the best one on the trip already. Why did Allah bring us together, to hurt me? My head fell down to my chest like a turtle looking for a place to hide.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes...I think so…” she sounded confused to me. “So you guys did the dates?” I asked, hoping I was concealing my saddness. She started laughing loud, “You know what Ibu? You got me. He and I spoke on the phone and saw each other at dance classes, then he invited me here to his home. But...no...we haven’t gone on any dates...yet.” It was my turn to laugh, “No dates yet? So how do you know you love him?” Her eyes met mine then looked away quickly. “Well, I never said I agreed with my country’s customs...I just said that was the way it was done there. I saw him dance and I knew I loved his spirit...just like sitting here all night...into the morning, talking with you...learning your mind, your heart’s wants, and seeing how your friends look up to you...how intelligent you are...how kind you are...how beautiful you are...has me all messed up inside.”

“Why?” I asked. Now I felt shy. She said I was beautiful. No one ever said that. My very dark skin was not looked upon with favor here where many people bleached their skin in order to look closer to white or light skinned complexioned. Beautiful...me? Wow, my heart was as full as my belly after a day at my mom’s home. The world could’ve ended right then and I wouldn’t have cared. This divine woman had my soul so I would live on, regardless. She stood up and her African indigo material that was wrapped around her body made her look regal in the rising sun rays. She came to me and put out her hand. I put my hand in hers and we went up the stairs that led to the roof. When we got up there the sky was a bright pink and orange swirl of colors. It looked as if two different colored clouds had met, then mixed, intertwining with each other, creating trails of their union all over the atmosphere. I dragged a mattress over that I had planned to bring down stairs to sleep on at some point, but never made it to bed. We both sat on the mattress and she looked off far away from where we were. Malaikah seemed to be floating across the continent to distant lands. I tried to see what she saw, then her head fell onto my shoulder. She sighed, “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Noticing my lack of an answer was a sign of confusion, she added, “The sunrise..I always wanted to watch the sunrise in Africa. It looks like a different sun from the one we get in America. Bigger, but not as harsh...closer...as if I can touch it. Thank you for this present, this moment, this gift.”

“Thank Allah,” I said and sighed into her body completely relaxing against her weight. We were balanced. “Yes, and Allah, too. Thank Allah,” she whispered, sounding sleepy. “Malaikah,” my mind was still stuck on her last words downstairs, “You said, I messed you up? I do not understand...how did I mess you up?” What little energy she had left let out a lite chuckle and she grabbed my hand again, this time though was different. It made my stomach feel weird, in a good way. “Mamadou, you have changed everything I thought I knew and felt in one night! One night! In one night, I am reborn with a new way to look at things...a new way to be...to be free...to truly listen to my heart.” Taking my other hand and rubbing the top of hers softly, I asked, “And what is your heart saying, Malaikah?”

She slowly released my hands and let her arm wrap around my waist. Naturally my arm went around her shoulders and pulled her in close, so close I could smell the oils in her hair and on her skin. “I love you,” she said softly, “My heart is saying it is free here...and I know I love you. I love you already. I do.”

“I love you, too, Malaikah, you know already I love you.”

The sun continued to rise as we sat on my mattress on the rooftops in Yembeul, Senegal. Malaikah fell asleep on my shoulder. I laid her head on my lap watching her sleep. Roosters crowed and a devote muslim began to sing the morning prayer from the rooftop about a block from us. I too sang under my breath, trying to believe what was happening, wishing time would stop and I could stay in this space forever. Just me and Malaikah, my love.

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It was the end of the first week and as usual Malaikah and I were in our spot on the roof watching the sun come up over the buildings. I ran down stairs to get us some breakfast and she met me at the bottom of the steps by the time I returned. I grabbed two chairs and we sat outside her room drinking Nescafe and eating toasted french bread with Nutella on it. Some of the others on the trip had gotten up already and were outside negotiating with local tailors and wash women to help them clean their clothes or make an outfit. Malaikah would laugh at them and shake her head. She always washed her own clothes. She would go to the well, get her own water (even though I would force her to let me carry the bucket), and with some soap she brought from home, she would scrub her stuff in the bucket and hang it to dry outside right beside the hired wash women. The women loved her and saw her as one of them. She got the nickname, “Village Girl” from me because I felt like she belonged in the village and not the city. She insisted she was a different person back home, but I didn’t care. I would love her anywhere. Today, however, our union had started to draw a lot of attention. She didn’t seem to notice or just didn’t care, but Ibu had approached me yesterday. This was in my mind a lot, but I was not sure I should tell Malaikah.

After she finished eating, I got some of the local kids to get us some mangoes, but Malaikah said she needed to wash some things before she could relax with me again. I decided to tell her then what happened between me and my cousin. I knew she had still been seeing him, even maybe sleeping with him, but I signed myself up for such an experience. She never lied to me one time, we never said we were a couple, we never kissed, though I wanted to soo badly. She wanted to keep everything honest and make sure she was sure of her feelings. So I guess in a way love did get a time schedule. Love had to wait. I knew everything, but she told me she never told Ibu anything about us. This hurt me a little. Why was I the secret? When Ibu came to talk to me, I realized I was not a secret at all. Everyone had been talking about the love between me and Malaikah...even Ibu and Tairou. Malaikah was in another world completely, so blinded by our “secret” love she couldn’t see that EVERYONE saw it. Everyone.

“Malaikah…please...do not be mad,” I started off a little shakey, “I am not supposed to talk to you a lot anymore or be close to you.” She stopped drinking her Nescafe and looked at me in shock. Then shock turned to anger, “Why not?!” She asked or rather demanded an answer. Feeling like a little boy about to admit something really silly, I told her, “Ibu said for me to stay away from you.” There was a pause and then Malaikah’s head went back as she laughed up at the heavens. She shook her locks in a rigorous way, as if hearing nonsense. “Ibu said what?!”

“Shhh!” I grabbed her hand and squeezed, then let it go, “Not soo loud, girl...yes Ibu said-”

“I don’t care what Ibu said,” she glared back at me. I caught a glimpse of this other Malaikah; the city girl. She was very strong minded and stubborn. “Ibu does NOT control me and who I talk to or sit with,” she scooted her chair so close to mine our hips touched. I tried to slide my chair over some to move away but the sandy cement kept it stuck in place, that or Allah did in response to my heart. “I love Ibu but you are my best friend and I love you, too, and I will talk to you whenever I want to!” Now she was very mad and I feared I had started something that was going to end up bad. Also, ‘best friend’, was ringing in my ears. I wanted to be her love. The Ancestors spoke to my spirit saying, ‘patience’. Here we are in Africa and her lands traditions were coming into my world. My love would have to wait. A part of me felt weak. How could I let another man tell me what to do? My respect for Ibu made me question why I was still talking to this woman. I mean, she was his girlfriend, whether she was unsure of how she felt for him or not.

“Malaikah...I will still talk to you, see we talk now...but I am afraid of the eyes…”

She looked around quickly and laughed, “No one is even paying us any attention! What are you talking about? No one cares if we are talking or not.” I took a deep breath and repeated myself, “The eyes, Malaikah. I am afraid of the eyes.” I looked over to the entrance of the compound where there was a tall stone wall that surrounded where the students were staying. She looked over, too, and then she saw, “the eyes”. Ibu was watching us from the other side of the wall, with only his eyes able to see what we were doing unnoticed by anyone else. His eyes accused me of disrespecting him. He was my older cousin...not that much older, but still I was always being seen with his woman. That wasn’t right. She looked back at me smiling, “Oh…’the eyes’...I see…” I stood up and went about my business. Ibu was a hot tempered man and he would pick a fight with me if he felt to. Fighting was not in my nature, so it was best I left her alone, for now. She went to get the water bucket to wash her clothes. The eyes finally went away.

I think the sun was as upset as Malaikah had been the way it burned a whole through the top of my head once I returned to where we had been sitting. Maybe it was crazy to stay under the sun for more than an hour, but I could not stop watching her. Every minute of the day, I thought of ways to see her or be around her. The way she worked so hard to be independent, but still would call to me to help her get around the city, exchange her American dollars, and translate wolof, made me feel for her more and more. To snap me out of my thoughts, Ibu came and sat hard into the chair next to me. Almost instinctively I pulled my gaze away from Malaikah, and started to get up. Ibu put a hand on my shoulder, as if to say, stay. “Hey, I thought we talked about this girl, Mamadou?” Why he was saying this like a question for me, I did not understand but I did understand that he was a little bothered by something. “Yes, we talked about her…” I answered unsure where this talk was going. His hand got heavier on my shoulder and he leaned in close so only I could hear him, “Ok so I ask you real nice to stop talking so much with her, but then the next day - today - I see you do what you want to do anyway.”

“Yes…I am sorry cousin,” what else could I do but apologise? “But, you have another woman from here that you keep quiet, too. I am not promised to anyone...only Malaikah.” He leaned away to look in my face. As if what I said was a joke he repeated, “Only Malaikah, eh?” I didn’t answer. By now Malaikah was taking her clothes out of the bucket and hanging them on the clothesline looking at me then Ibu. Her eyes I was not afraid of. They gave me strength to tell the truth. Smiling at Malaikah so Ibu would notice, I spoke to him, “Yes, ONLY Malaikah I give my love to. What about you, Ibu? Do you love her the way I love her? Do you see her the way I see her? Is she the only love you have, is she YOUR only -”

“You crazy man?! That’s not your business! She is here because I ask her to come. No she is not my only girl, but she is my only love right now and that is all that matters. You think she loves you?!”

“Yes,” I answered quickly, still looking at the beautiful lady sweating as she finished up her work, but still radiantly, glowing. “Yo Mamadou, look at me,” Ibu said threateningly. Slowly I moved my eyes from her face to his face of calm rage. “That girl loves me cousin, not you! What do you have? Nothing! You don’t know her the way I do….” then he laughed some and added, “You better not know her the way I do.” The smile on his face fueled me with madness. So what if he was bigger, stronger, maybe even better than me for her. No matter if I had to fight, he had to know. “No, we do not have the sex or even to kiss...but I can not - I will not stop the talking or sitting with her. She is my love. You, she is not so sure about...I know. I love you cousin but I have to tell you what is my truth. It is all I know. What I feel she feels too. If you REALLY know her, you know that.” Ibu could not answer because by now Malaikah was walking over to us, with her wet hands on her hips and a look of concern on her face.

“What are you two talking about? Can I know?”

“This guy thinks you are his love,” Ibu jumped right in, sitting back in his chair, and putting his hand on his face as if tired of dealing with everything. Malaikah looked at me and then back at him and smiled, “I am.” I widened my eyes at her and she did it back at me, like, so what? So here we are. Now what? No more secret. Ibu moved his hand from his face and sat back up in his seat. He took her hand to get her attention back in his direction and asked, almost pleaded, “So...what am I or what are you to me?” This answer I wanted to hear. The last time we discussed her feelings for Ibu, she was very unclear. Meeting me had confused her. It had been a week, by now she should have some clarity. For the first time she seemed worried about people watching, because she glanced at her room where her friend was sitting on the bed, with some other women, talking...or listening. Then in a lowered volume she answered, “I know I’m your girl and I know you say you love me, Ibu, but I only feel that when we are...being intimate….you know having sex or kissing.” My cousin seemed embarrassed by her answer. “So, you think I only need you for the sex, girl?” His voice was low but his words were sharp. She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the steps in front of us. Ibu got up and went to stand in front of her. He bent down to her level and stared in her face, then said, “Don’t you know I can have any woman I want here? Do you know who I am? But I choose you! You don’t see that, girl?” I shook my head in disbelief. What kind of man tells his ‘love’ that he can be with anyone else he wants? Malaikah laughed, “You choose ME?!” She laughed louder, “No I chose YOU! But you know what, don’t let me stop you Ibu! Go be with the millions of ladies that want to be in your bed! That isn’t love at all, but if that’s what you want then go, please go be with them!” She stood up to leave and he blocked her path. It was like watching a bad romance movie, where the suitor was saying and doing all the wrong things, making you want to yell at the screen for him to just stop being soo stupid. Malaikah pushed him to get around him and he wouldn’t move.

“Malaikah, stop it,” he said firmly as if speaking to a child, “You know I love you girl. We have a special bond, you know. Don’t be like this. What can I do to make you happy with me again? Huh? Tell me so I can fix everything.”

Frustrated and tired Malaikah in a calm tone said, “Just love me, Ibu, that’s all I need, not your ego, not your jealousy. Love.” She walked slowly around him and towards the area where the women were cooking lunch for everyone. Ibu turned around quick calling to her, “Ok...that’s no problem. I can give you that...that’s easy.” Turning back to face me, his eyes lowered to slits. I shook my head, smiling. “What? What are you smiling about, huh?” I picked up my prayer mat. It was time for me to go pray. As I stood up and headed to the roof, I answered him over my shoulder, “You don’t even know that woman that you call, ‘girl’. Learn her mind cousin. Her mind.” I was no longer afraid of ‘the eyes’. I was no longer afraid of anything.

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The end of the second week had come and gone. All of Ibu’s students left for America, except for Malaikah and her friend, Fatou. She planned to stay for another week at my house on my auntie’s compound. I guess she was really supposed to be there with Ibu, but she stayed in my part of the house. I kept my house very clean. No roaches, no rats. She liked that.

When she had first moved her stuff over to Medina where we lived, she stayed in Ibu’s Mom’s room. At night she woke up to 10 kids sleeping all over and around her and Fatou on the bed. Then in the morning she was greeted by flying roaches. That is nothing to us, the kids were swatting them out of the air but Malaikah was not happy. Not happy at all. She didn’t want to offend anyone so she quietly moved into my brother’s wife’s room the next day. That didn’t last more than one night. She woke up in the morning thinking all had went well, only to see a rat climbing through a hole in the roof. So at night, some of my friends helped us sneak all of their bags into my room. This time though the move didn’t go as planned and Ibu saw us. Needless to say he was offended. When he confronted us he seemed a little sad, which is not usual for my cousin. He explained his mom was wondering why the girls didn’t stay in her house anymore. She loved having guests. I told Malaikah they had to go back, but she refused so my friends and I took to sleeping on the floor so they could have the bed. I secretly did not wish for them to go. We had great talks, my friends and these two women. After making a nice pot of Attaya tea (chinese gunpowder green tea, sugar, and mint) which would keep us awake all through the night, the things we would discuss went from serious to funny to random thoughts and questions. Often, we would question how two women with African names could not be muslim. Fatou said she was studying the prayers, but Malaikah said she was just spiritual - a little bit of everything she believed in. My friend Diallo had taken an interest in her and would pick her brain saying things like, “You can not be a little of everything or you are not whole anything. You have to be one hundred percent devoted to something or it doesn’t count.” I could tell she liked him. He was a lighter brown than I was, his english was a little better than mine, he was from Guinea (which was the style of dancing she did best and loved), worse of all he told her one day that he could dance. So now, I became “the eyes”, watching them...always watching.

The day when Malaikah was going back home was long in coming. Ibu was keeping her in Medina and she didn’t know because she didn’t understand life here. Whenever she asked to go to the travel agency in Dakar to get her ticket changed, he would come up with an excuse, tell her it was closed for a muslim holiday or he didn’t have the time to take her - even though she watched him head to the city everyday with my big brother, Ousmanne. It took another man that she and Ibu knew to help her get her tickets.

A few days ago, they both went to the agency in Dakar and Ibu pretended to try to get her ticket changed for the third time. Just when he had finished telling her it wasn’t possible that day, hoping she would stay until he went back to America, a man he worked for in America, came over to them. His name was Djo, he was from Africa’s Martinique Island. Ibu said he was so furious when Djo came over to Malaikah asking her what was the problem, ignoring that he was even there with her. She told him she needed to get back home to go to work but couldn’t seem to get her ticket changed, Djo took her ticket and said he would get a friend he had that worked there to do it and bring the ticket to Ibu’s house when the date was switched for no extra money. That put and end to Ibu’s plan...and my prayers. I was hoping she would never be able to go back. Selfish, I know, but my truth.

The morning she was to leave, I could see in her face that she was ready. The last two days she had spent in my room, writing in her notebook, away from the kids she usually was with all day. She was eating, but not that much and my auntie would grab her wrist to show how thin it was and say, “Eat Malaikah! You soo skinny you have to eat!” To which she would say, very annoyed, “Deedeet Jeri jef. Suur naa!” Which meant, no thank you, I am full, in Wolof. Fatou wasn’t leaving yet, so she watched Malaikah packing. “Yo before you leave tonight, you should come with me, Bah, Amina, and Diallo to the beach! We haven’t been to see Yemaya since everyone from the trip left. I need to go and I know you do, too.” When I heard her say Diallo was going, it woke me up from my tea sipping stupor. There was no way I would not be there, if she was going. “That sounds like a good way to end your trip, Malaikah,” I added quickly before she could say no. She looked at me, “You’re going too, Mamadou?” Fatou smiled at me, “Of course Mamadou’s going, he is always invited, we can’t go no where without Mamadou, you know that!” I smiled back, but didn’t trust her words because I was really not invited but had invited myself to what was starting to seem like one of those American “dates”. Every person going could find a person to pair with, that was suspicious to me. Regardless, Malaikah agreed to go after she was done packing. “I will take you to my favorite part of the beach, Malaikah,” I said almost in a whisper putting my hand on her leg. We sat side by side on my bed. “I want to see your special place, too, Mamadou,” Fatou said, but I ignored her. She had lost my trust.

We were all about to get in a taxi cab and go to the beach when Ibu pulled up in another cab with Ousmanne. They got out of the taxi and looked at all of us getting in the other taxi. “Malaikah!” He shouted across the street to her before she could get in the car. “What?!” She practically screamed back. There was an awkward passing of stares and then he gestured for her to come to him. She looked at us and then him and didn’t move. “Hey come here girl! Where are you going?”

“They’re going to the beach and I don’t want them to leave me!” She was still by the taxi. I gave her a little pat on her arm and said so only she could hear me, “Go see what he wants, I will not leave you.” Reluctantly she walked back across the street to the house where Ibu stood in the doorway, surrounded by his friends and my older brother. Though I couldn’t hear everything, I could tell he wasn’t agreeing to let her go to the beach with us. Suspecting things might get worse, I told the others to go on ahead we would meet them, and then went over to the house to see what was going on. When I got close enough I could hear Ibu saying, “I can’t be with you today because I have to go to the city to do some things. I want you to stay here with my mom and my sister until I get back.”

Hands on her hips, speaking as if there was no one around, she snapped back, “When will that be?!” He shrugged, “I donno girl, very late maybe -” before he could finish she started to scream at him, “I can’t stay here any longer! I have to get away! I need the beach! I have to go! I’m not sitting here all day with people who can’t speak my language and that I can’t understand! I have to get outta here for a minute or I will go crazy!!!” Everyone was looking at Ibu’s face and trying not to laugh. This woman had just told him she was going to do what she wanted to do and said it very loud with no fear. I started to back off and went to get a taxi cab. At this point she had to go somewhere. “If you go, Malaikah, don’t think to say anything to me when you get back until you leave for the airport. I’m serious girl,” Ibu was embarrassed. He didn’t know what else to do. Malaikah started to walk backwards shrugging her shoulders and saying, “I’m sorry, Ibu, I have to go. I have to.” By the time she turned around to the street, I had a taxi cab waiting with the door open for her to get in. She did quickly. As we pulled off, I said to my cousin out the window, “Baal ma...nu ngi dem,” Wolof for, “Sorry...we are going.” But, I wasn’t sorry at all.

Once we were out of sight of the house, I turned to look at Malaikah. She looked back at me. I shook my head at her smiling and she started to laugh a little. Then I laughed and put my hand on her leg. “I don’t like to see you soo mad woman, eh Allah!” We both laughed harder and she said, “I don’t like to be crazy Mamadou but sometimes people ask for it.” After both laughing, shaking our heads in reflection of what had just happened, we looked at each other smiling. Was she really going to leave me tonight? As if knowing my mind, she put her head on my shoulder. Her hair covered the other side of her face as I felt her arm go under mine and hook on. “I will miss you Mamadou, “ she sighed, “I want to go home...but I don’t want to go.” I squeezed her thigh gently, looking out the window, to forget her words.

The car rounded the corner onto a busy street. People were walking everywhere, as if there were no cars coming. The driver honked his horn, getting stares but nothing more. The beach was to the left of us; the cliff I would sometimes come to sit on and look down at the ocean, the sandy path down to the water’s edge, the roar of the waves, laughter of the kids playing in them increasing as we inched closer, raised my anticipation. Malaikah sat up as if the ocean had called to her. “Are we here?” She said excitedly looking out the window, “C’mon let’s go, this is close enough, we can walk across the street!” I paid the driver as she was already jumping out of the taxi. I rushed around to her side, she grabbed my hand and almost dragged me through the traffic and people until we stood on the cliff looking out. I noticed she seemed to be in a dream-like trance, so I gave her hand a squeeze and whispered, “This...I come to this spot a lot...but my favorite place...I will show you now.” When I went to move, she stood frozen just staring out at the horizon. “I saw this place...before I ever came to Africa...I sat on my terrace at home and was meditating...doing my visualizations to attract the money I needed to get to Senegal...and in my visions...I was here...on this cliff...with the sun on the horizon, smiling at me.” I now looked in awe. Was she a dancer or a poet or a witch? Whatever she was, she was beguiling. Slowly she began to move her feet as I took her down a sandy path no one else knew was there, until we were under the cliff. There was a patch of sand and then lots of rocks. The ocean was crashing up against them. I sat down on the sand and she sat beside me. “We are here,” I took in a deep breath of salty air. pulling her into my arms so her head rested on my chest, our knees leaning against each other, feet overlapping in the sand. Neither of us said a word. Cradled by the sounds of nature just being, we too, decided to just be.

In that moment, I understood my mom's prophecy. My heart would leave here, when Malaikah left here, a time I didn't want to consider. The present was all that mattered. In fact in the month that she had been in Senegal, I constantly fought away the thought of her having to leave, until her ticket came to the house arranged for 3am tomorrow morning. Regardless, she was mine for now. Feeling like a champion who had conquered the myths of America, I moved my head down towards hers and kissed her on the top of her head. A surprise to myself as it was to her, too, she looked up at me shaking her head. Looking back at the sky she started mumbling to herself. All I could hear were the words, "It is what it is, so let go." Assuming she meant for me to release her, I slowly started to remove my arms from around her warm, soft, body...it was painful...like removing a band-aid from a wound that was just beginning to heal. Before I could fully do so, she looked up at me. Our eyes met and she whispered, "Love at first sight, huh?" we giggled like little, kids, and I nodded my head, "Yes, I know it is real...and I know where you come from it is not -" two smooth palms cupped my face and stole my words from my tongue. I couldn't speak. She was so amazing to me; magic was floating around my heart as if a magician had possessed my soul. Nothing seemed real anymore. It was like I was high, she was my drug of choice, and I would be forever addicted.

Without any control over ourselves, we let our foreheads touch. Closing our eyes my thoughts became one with her thoughts. I'm not sure how long we sat that way, but the explosion that went off in my belly when I felt her lips touch mine caused me to gasp for air. She held onto my face. Slowly my hands moved up the sides of her arms, her shoulders, until my fingers reached her cheekbones. Parting my lips to let hers in, she slid her bottom lip in so gently, my heartbeat begin to pick up. Then at the wrong time my voice returned. "What about Ibu?" I worried as we continued to let our mouths play with every inch of each others face. She responded by wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her lips against mine. This quickly shut my mind down, opening up something else in me...something I never felt before. I held her just as tight and kissed her. My friends would laugh if they could hear what I was thinking, what I was feeling. Romance. Like in the American movies...I felt like I now knew romance, not that predictable, usual, romance, but a true romance. When no one else exists in the world but you and this person who felt like the other half of yourself; like your air, like your heartbeat.

“Ayyyy HAHAHAHAHA! Can we come?!” Malaikah and I stopped kissing and looked up to see all of our friends standing at the top of the cliff looking down at us, laughing. I looked at her, she was laughing, too. We had forgot they were on the beach. We had forgot we were on the beach. I grabbed her face and kissed her again, then looked up at Diallo with satisfaction. He rolled his eyes to the side, took his hands out of his pockets and started to clap. Then they all started to whistle and applaud. “Hey! This is no show for you guys!” I shouted up at them, to the sound of continued laughter, including my own.

The rest of our time on the beach was a blur. I was just doing whatever I could to make this memory of Africa special for my love. We ate street food, played in the ocean water, but not too deep - she couldn’t swim. After some time the others said we should get back to the house. We had been on the beach all day. For me, if I never left, then she could never leave. This is where I wanted to end my time with her. Ibu would surely forbid me to go to the airport with them. For me that would be too final, anyway. When we got back to the house, she would get ready for the trip back to America. I would have to go see my mom and dad, pray, and get my things ready for school which was to start again in in a few days.

As our friends walked back to the street to get a taxi cab. I stopped walking and turned to face Malaikah. She held both my hands and looked down at the sand. I could see she was crying. “Oh no baby, don’t cry, please, don’t cry…”

She smiled through her tears still looking down away from my eyes. I let go of one of her hands and raised her chin up so I could see her really good, one last night. “When we met we watched the sun rise, remember?” She nodded. “Now," I turned her towards the ocean, “We watch it go down...like the end to our great story. Malaikah,” she looked at me again, soo sad, no smile, just tears, “Do not forget me. Do not forget us.” My words broke her spirit and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her waist. She sobbed into my shoulder, “No, Mamadou, how could I forget you? I will NEVER forget you. I will write to you, I will call you, I will send you money for school...I will come back again. I will not forget you. YOU, do not forget ME.”

“Malaikah, I will not forget you ever. You take my heart with you. I am forever changed.”

“No, never change.”

We stood in the last rays of the setting sun, just as we had on the rooftops of Yembeul, when it rose into the sky.

I will say, everything she said she would do, she did. Though as time went by we were not able to see each other ever again. Life happens. Still, she never forgot me. I was forever her Africa memory. She was forever, my Malaikah. My love.

(The story is about me and a love I had to leave behind 19 years ago, named Mamadou Lamine Nar Gueye, and the title is perfect because there in Africa I was free to love, so free that our love exists to this very day, though we can no longer be together intimately. We reconnected about a year ago through facebook and though he wanted to return to the same feelings we once had, my life had changed, I was married with children, and could not devote myself to him that way. Heartbroken he discontinued contact with me...even as a friend...which was probably for the best.)