Sylvia's Journal

Our Dakar reunion was wonderful. Some people we had not seen since we left in 1981, others left before us and then there were some who arrived and left before us who we only knew by name. There they were in the flesh.

Only a few of us Dakarois stayed in the development business. There is Theo who married a Burkinabe and is living in Ougadougou; having returned after some 25 years in that country he was sad to see how little had changed outside the capital city. Development takes generations; he must have known that but we expect more during our lifetime, especially if we put that much effort into it.

Wilma, after a full career with UNFPA is now taking care of a husband and parents who are deteriorating rapidly; life is unfair in that way. In her retirement she cannot retire because three people depend on her, three people requiring much care and patience who have little to offer her except still being there.

There is Jacqueline, now Jacoba, who had a successful career in UNICEF and retired at age 55. We were both oriented into the ways of UNESCO in April 1979 in a small chateau outside Paris. It was all very exciting and we felt very important with our blue UN passports and all these allowances.

There was one widower whose wife had been so active in West Africa that memorial services were held for her in Mali and Senegal. He handed out a small booklet with her memories about working in West Africa from the mid 70s. She wrote those when there was no point in looking forward anymore and memories of the past became the focus of the last year(s) of her life.

There were Liesbeth and Ernst who arrived a little after us in Dakar and returned back to Holland to pursue other careers. Liesbeth has a starting number for the 11-city skating race in the north of Holland which only happens once in a blue moon when the ice is thick enough. She will start training for the grueling 250 km event when it starts to freeze real hard.

Some people were grandparents, others still single but everyone remembered our carefree days in Senegal some 3 decades ago. We were served poulet yassa by two Senegalese ladies and inquired after children, spouses and grandchildren. Reunions like this are wonderful but also make you realize how life races by if you don’t watch out what you are doing. I heard people say ‘carpe diem’ a few times.

On our way back to Amsterdam we stopped briefly to see friends in Hilversum and then spent our last night in Holland at Annette and Dick’s stately house that looks out over one of the canals. It was also the last night of their cat that is sick beyond help and will make his last trip to the vet this morning. A little sad to watch her schlep her tired body across the floor and very sad to watch Dick hold her on his lap and pet her as if there was no tomorrow. He knew there wouldn’t be.

For 58000 miles we got ourselves adjacent business class seats for the grand finale of our vacation. We both would have liked to fly on for another 11 hours (unlike the Dubai – Atlanta flight which we would have liked to last only 5). The flight went much too fast for us to enjoy the food, the wines and the films. I watched Michael Jackson’s last hurray (This is it) and was pleasantly surprised by the music and exquisite dancing. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.

In Dubai we were delivered to our hotel by a Pakistani driver who offered his condolences when he found out that we were on our way to Kabul. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t want to pry, but why are nice people like you choosing to live in Kabul?” Although he is Pakistani he has never been there and never wants to go there either as it’s nearly as bad as Afghanistan in his eyes. We actually think it may be worse.