I just got home, my heart pounding, after picking up my school results. Every step resonates like a drum in my chest, a reminder of nights spent fighting sleep, my head buried in my notebooks, lulled by the echo of silent sacrifices. The walls of this house have witnessed my late nights, the stifled sighs of exhaustion, and the prayers whispered by Mom.
When I enter the family home, I find my sister pacing back and forth. As soon as she sees me, her eyes widen, a glimmer of hope crosses her face, and she rushes toward me.
—So, little sister?!
Then, unable to contain her excitement, she screams:
"Mooooom! Layla's here!"
Mom burst from her room, her hurried steps betraying her pent-up anxiety. She ran to hug me tightly. And then, I broke down. Tears gushed forth, flooding my burning cheeks. Between sobs, my voice broken but proud, I announced...
—I got my baccalaureate… automatically… with honors.
At that moment, the weight of sleepless nights, of reproaches and expectations, of the neighborhood's pleading gaze—a mixture of curiosity, envy, and kindness—evaporates. Only the brilliance of victory remains.
I remember those nights under the flickering lamp, my eyes struggling,
Each page devoured was a battle won.
The whispers of my parents, heavy with prayer,
The looks from the neighborhood, sometimes harsh, sometimes proud.
The envious silently counted my missteps,
The curious awaited failure as a foregone conclusion.
But in the weariness, a tenacious flame burned.
The hope that one morning, I would be able to shout my pride.
And when the sun finally rose that day,
My name shone, written in the ink of my struggles.
—Mom: My darling daughter, Alhamdulillah, I'm so proud of you. (She cries in turn.)
—Samira: Congratulations, sis! I'm so happy for you. I'll tell Karim; he'll surely bring you a present when he gets home from work.
I pull away from Mom, who is now smiling broadly. I smile back, seeing her so happy fills me with joy. My mother is my life.
...
Hello everyone, my name is Layla Aïdara Diagne, I'm 18 years old. My father is Senegalese and my mother is Moroccan. I'm quite tall, with a mixed-race complexion, very long hair (a gift from my mother), a model's figure, but not very thin. I grew up in a very conservative family, very strict with religious and moral standards, in the Richard Toll neighborhood of Saint Louis. My mother, Samia Azoulay, Moroccan by birth, left everything behind: her family, her inheritance, to live her love story with my father, Abdou Rahmane Diagne, originally from Senegal, who works in the audiovisual industry.
From this love, three children were born: Samira Rassoul Diagne, 27 years old, average height, light complexion, very beautiful with long hair and curves in all the right places—the complete opposite of me. She owns a clothing boutique where she makes clothes with my mother. Karim Ahmadou Diagne, 24 years old, very tall, almost two meters, my brother, very handsome, too handsome even. He is also mixed race, very well-built because he loves sports, especially basketball. He works in film production at a studio in Dakar; he must have inherited this passion from my father. And finally, the youngest, me.
My father lived in Morocco for a long time studying audiovisual production and calligraphy. It was there that he met my mother, and they quickly fell in love. But my mother's family disapproved of their union and did everything they could to separate them. They got married anyway, but their family made their lives difficult, so they decided to move to Senegal. They returned to Saint Louis to live with my father and, against all odds, did everything they could to have a stable married life.
...
I go up to my room and collapse onto the bed for a few seconds before taking a shower, performing my ablutions, and finally praying and giving thanks to Allah.
In the evening, around seven o'clock, Samira's voice wakes me from my sleep.
—"They're home! They're home!" Samira shouts, announcing the arrival of Dad and Karim.
I get up, put on my veil, and go downstairs. I see them just crossing the threshold of the living room.
—"Salam Aleykoum," they say as they come in.
—"Aleykoum Salam," we all reply in unison.
Samira goes to get refreshments and serves everyone.
—"So? Where's the queen of the day?"
At the sound of his words, I bare all my teeth and run to take refuge in his arms.
—"Congratulations to you, my favorite little sister, I'm so proud of you."
—"Thank you, thank you, my dear brother. I'll also remind you that I'm your only little sister," I laugh, teasing him.
—Karim: Hmmm, this little girl is teasing me, and I brought you a present! But I see that Mademoiselle isn't being nice. He sighed.
—Noooooo, my dear big brother, akhy alhubiy, my favorite, I didn't say anything! I tried to backtrack.
—Karim: There, I like this better. Here's your present, habiba.
My eyes widened so much they looked like they were going to pop out of my eyeballs. An iPhone 13 Pro Max! He's crazy, it must have cost him a fortune.
He works so hard to provide for all of us. He does several jobs at the same time; he doesn't even have time for himself.
—Thank you, akhy, it's truly an incredible gift, but...
—Karim: You're welcome, sis, you deserve it. He interrupts me, winking as if to reassure me.
—"Okay," I smile. "Shukran!"
—"Well, he doesn't even notice I'm here," Dad says teasingly.
I immediately jump on him for a hug. I love hugs so much.
—"My darling Daddy," I say affectionately.
—"My father: My beloved daughter, you've truly made me proud. Keep it up, you're on the right track."
I smile in response, then hug him tighter.
—Karim: Well, now enjoy your vacation because you'll be coming to live with me in Dakar for your university studies. My brother added with a big smile.
—"Count on me, I'm going to have a great time," I said, pulling away from my father.
...…
Eight long months have passed during which all I've done is eat, drink, sleep, watch TV, and sometimes help my mother and sister with the housework.
I went out occasionally with my two childhood friends, Bintou and Fatima, to the beach or fast-food restaurants in town.
The city of Saint Louis is very beautiful, even though it's close. It wasn't until after I finished high school that I was able to explore it with my friends.
What struck me most were the restaurants. I love eating; food and I have a long love affair.
This weekend, my brother came to tell me that I'll be coming to live with him starting Monday because, ironically, I've been accepted to the university in the capital.
We start classes in about two months, so I need to go there to complete the registration process and try to adapt a little to this big city that is Dakar.
...
With my suitcases packed, I wonder what my life will be like once I leave this small town where I've lived all my life.
I go to bed with this thought because tomorrow I'll finally discover the city of Dakar.