Award ceremony at my Alma Mater
When I was in middle school, I asked my parents to come to the school’s award ceremony. I was excited — I was supposed to receive an award, and I couldn’t wait for them to see me shine. My mother showed up. My dad couldn’t make it — work, as usual.
Everything was going fine… until they started calling names. Mine wasn’t one of them.
I was crushed. Later, I was told the school didn’t have enough awards to go around, even for students who deserved them. Truth be told, the only award I had earned was in Art, while others were being recognized for shining in French, Maths, and all the “important” subjects. But the worst part came when we got home. My mom pulled me into her room, locked the door, and gave me a lecture that felt like it lasted forever. She was disappointed. She said she’d been humiliated sitting among proud mothers whose children had all received awards — except hers. I cried so much that day. Only my dad consoled me.
It’s funny when I think about it now. I wasn’t even the hardworking type. I usually aimed for the bare minimum, just enough to pass. But that year, after a rocky first term, I actually pulled myself together. I improved. I should have been recognized for that effort… and for art, too. But hey — the school didn’t have enough funds. Or so they said.
Fast forward to grade 12 — everything changed.
That year, I won a national philosophy competition. I received my award in Dakar’s largest concert hall, from the hands of the German ambassador, in front of the President and a sea of important officials. My parents were both there. And this time? My mom held her head high. I also passed the Baccalaureate with honors that year. I was on top of the world. No one could tell me anything!
And now… 25 years later, life came full circle.
My batch was selected to sponsor the annual Award Ceremony of our former school, the Lycée d’Excellence Mariama Bâ of Gorée. A few years ago, the Alumni Association began inviting former students to contribute to this meaningful event — and this year, it was our turn.
We got to work.
We each contributed money. Then came fundraising letters, raffles, phone calls to sponsors, and late-night WhatsApp messages and Zoom meetings. We started late, but still — we managed to raise 5 million CFA francs in under a month. We also received donations in kind.
With the funds, we bought computers and tablets, gift vouchers for books and school supplies, jewelry, medical supplies for the infirmary, and sanitary pads for the whole school. Two days before the ceremony, four of us traveled to Gorée to deliver the gifts and finalize the selection with the headmistress. Unsurprisingly, many girls were worthy of awards — competition is fierce at LEMBA, in the best way.
On Saturday, June 28th, it all came together.
We gathered at the Dakar port to catch the 9 AM ferry. The reunion was emotional — some of us hadn’t seen each other since graduation. We chatted non-stop on the boat, reliving teenage memories and laughing like time hadn’t passed at all.
At the school, I was asked to join the officials for breakfast — not my comfort zone. I'm social, yes, but I avoid the spotlight when I can. Still, there I was, in the Headmistress’s office with officials and dignitaries. The breakfast buffet softened the blow.
Before 11, the ceremony began. The amphitheater was packed with students, parents, and old classmates. The Minister of National Education arrived just before noon, gave a lovely speech, and even helped distribute awards before leaving. I stood beside him and the President of the Alumni Association, during the photo op and TV interview, and felt incredibly awkward — but proud.
The ceremony ran long — we wrapped up around 3 PM. Before heading back, we took pictures with the staff and students, proud but exhausted. The ferry queue was long, so we treated ourselves to drinks by the beach, laughing, catching up, remembering the joys and pains of our school days.
Pausing with the school handy man/ janitor who has been there forever. He was already working there back in 1991.
All the former students and their children pausing with the headmistress and the vice headmistress.
Time may have passed, but our bond? Still solid.
I made it home by 7 PM, totally wiped. I had another event that evening, but my body said, No, ma’am. I showered, ate dinner, and collapsed into bed.
And now? On to the next.
We’re organizing the Sargal des Bachelières — the award ceremony for the graduates who pass the Baccalaureate — scheduled for August 2nd. This time, we will be better prepared. I just pray everything goes well.
Because this isn’t just about awards. It’s about pride, honor, giving back, and letting our little sisters know: We see you, we believe in you, and we’re rooting for you — always.
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