It is really hard to be an “adult” here. What I mean by that is, I struggle with my limited language skills and constant cultural blunders to fit in with adults. The first hour is usually fine. We can talk about America or Senegal or my job, but beyond that there really isn’t much more I can say. The result of this is that I spend a lot of time with the “kids”. And the person I spend the most time with is my 8-year old niece, Fanta.

Fanta is the daughter of my oldest sister, Hãr (remember the brave one?). Fanta is my constant defender and protector. She yells at the kids who call me “toubab”. She keeps me filled in on the neighborhood gossip (did you know Ahmed’s dog had puppies?). And perhaps most importantly, she listens to me.

She doesn’t laugh at my accent or when I mispronounce something. And unlike other people who assume that I am stupid because I can’t express myself, she has an uncanny understanding of my frustration. When I get upset because I can't say something, she will smile, tilt her head, and say, “Mi andii Rokhaya, Pular no saatii.” (I know Rokhaya, Pular is hard.) “Hida waawii!” (You can do it!). And she patiently waits for me to figure out a way to say what I want to say.

It can be hard, waking up every morning, knowing I am going to be laughed at, mocked and misunderstood. I am going to make countless mistakes. I will unknowingly offend half a dozen people and possibly frustrate myself to the point of tears. But I am so grateful to have Fanta, who every day tells me how good I am doing and that I can “waawii”. I can only hope that I show others at least half the patience and kindness she has shown me.