Every day, when I leave school and head for home, I take a car rapide, a colorful, hectic, reckless bus that careens down Avenue Cheikh Anta Diop at a whopping 30 miles per hour (when there's no traffic). Though this might seem slow, the potholes and sandy ditches transform each ride into a miniature roller coaster, constantly bumping and sliding and jerking back and forth. They're known to stop without notice, and more than once I've seen one car rapide nudge another to get it going again. (Everyone knows the worst seats are in the front, where you have full exposure to the dangers of each ride.)These small buses are always crammed full of about 30 people, with five or six standing in the middle holding on to a rusty, filthy metal bar and at least three stuffed into a one-person seat up front. There's no personal space once aboard, and frequently strangers who are standing will hand whoever is seated a bag, a water bottle, or a baby to hold for a while. I suppose this fosters the spirit of community upon which Senegal prides itself.Occasionally, I'll happen upon a fancy car rapide that's been decorated with colorful cardboard slides covering the cagey metal ceiling and sporting a freshly painted exterior. The front of every good car rapide screams "Alhamdoulilaahi" in bold letters, the borrowed-from-Arabic Wolof word for "thank God". The dashboard is often bejeweled with gris-gris, or marabout sanctioned protection amulets and beads to provide for safe passage, along with a framed photograph of Ahmadou Bamba, the founder of Senegal's much celebrated Mouride Islamic brotherhood. The back of the driver's seat is usually also covered with photographic paraphernalia, either more images of Ahmadou Bamba or photos of famous Senegalese mud wrestlers - super buff men wearing skimpy jeweled wrestling uniforms, vicious scowls, and fancy flip-flops. Car rapides have open windows that allow for a nice breeze, providing a much more comfortable ride than the American-style Dakar Dem Dikk buses. During the rainy season, an easily accessible tarp is dropped to keep passengers (mostly) dry. The apprenti, or money collector, is always a young teenage boy who carelessly hangs off the back, ushering people into the bus, taking fare (a mere 75 CFA, the equivalent of about 15 cents!), and anouncing necessary stops to the driver by banging a coin or a knuckle against the metal frame. If you're lucky, you get to hang off the back with him and reap the full benefits of a breeze. Of course as a female foreigner, this is never awarded to me; instead I get cozy with the locals.
For the first time ever, I spent Thanksgiving away from my family. On Thanksgiving day, I had eight hours of class followed by a typical Senegalese meal (french fries, fried fish, and onion sauce) instead of a day full of cooking and turkey. To compensate for this, over thirty students came together on Friday for a potluck Thanksgiving meal full of traditional foods, such as pie and sweet potatoes and green beans and stuffing. Together we had a feast, celebrating our flexibility in preparation (for example, instead of stoves, we have large Bunsen burner apparatus, etc.), a delicious American style meal, and good company.Thanksgiving is a holiday about family and sitting in this room, I realized that over the course of the semester, these other students have been transformed from strangers into CIEE family. As we went around the room sharing what we're thankful for, I was overwhelmed by how fortunate I am to share this day with people I love. And this year, I have so much to be thankful for - the opportunity to come to Senegal (and India next semester), the ability to appreciate this experience while it's happening, my friends and family here and in the US, my health and the health of everyone around me, and all the beauty and wonder in the world that I've been able to observe.After over three months in Senegal, I've come to realize how fortunate I am to be American, to have my socioeconomic status, to own a passport, to be able to drive, to go to Johns Hopkins, to go to university at all... So often, we get caught up in the daily grind that we forget to step back, take a deep breath, and be mindful. Thanksgiving was magical this year and reminded me to enjoy being.
One thing I've noticed this semester is that I see poetry all around me. I'm not sure if this change is internal and suddenly I'm noticing more poetry than before or if Senegal is just a more poetic country with a more poetic people. I'm hoping it's the former, but I'll only know for sure after returning to the States.A few weeks ago, on a weekend trip to Mbour - 40 km south of Dakar - I saw a man washing his horse in the sea. It was a hot and clear day, and his white(ish) horse was in desperate need of a cool bath. Mbour is a touristy town, and with that comes touristy trash, so the water was filled with soda cans and plastic bags and snack foods, among other dirtier things. While several buff Senegalese men, presumptuously male prostitutes, lined the beach doing push-ups, this young man stood waist deep in the rhythmic silver-gray water wearing swimming trunks and guiding his shy steed into the waves. At this point, I took a pause in my barefooted walk on the beach to watch his laborious process of spilling dirty ocean water over the horse's back and neck and trying to scrub coarse soap into its fur between waves.To me, this whole ritual seemed metaphorical of Senegal's approach to many of it's internal problems. Cleaning a dirty horse with dirty water is the same as supporting the talibe system as a means to prevent children from being victimized with physical violence. Children swallowed by the Koranic schools and forced to beg on the streets often have daily quotas to meet, else pay a physical price. Instead of initiating a crackdown of some sort, society accepts the practice and advocates giving money to the children. Senegal has the same problem in terms of reforms to the education system, where children are taught in French despite the fact that they've been raised only in Wolof or other dialects. Rather than provide instruction in a language they know, the government has lessened the rigidity of the end of course exams. Often, students can progress all the way through high school without having any deep understanding of the French language materials they're being tested on. And this is just to mention a couple of examples... Instead of instrumenting reforms that actually improve the system, a dirty problem is covered with a dirtier solution.I wonder how often he washes his horse.
My brief introduction is this: Although I had the intention of keeping a blog the entire semester in Senegal, my first few weeks were so full of excitement and new experiences and so void of internet access that I quickly got overwhelmed and decided to not write a blog at all. However, this past weekend was so inspiring that I guess I've changed my mind...On Saturday, the entire group of fifty students visited the Djoudj National Bird Park, about 27 km and two hours north of St. Louis. In two motorboats, we cruised through a small corner of the park on the Senegal River, moving slowly so as to absorb the surroundings - tall marsh grasses, morning glories, and not a cloud in the sky. The reedy grasses sang to us as we tried not to disturb the peace. While we rounded a bend, a flock of pale pink pelicans sporting bright yellow and blue bills and intent black eyes flew alongside us, gliding barely above the water in perfect formation. I lost all sense of self in the boat with dozens of pelicans and the occasional cormorant on either side of us and felt as though I was swimming and flying all at once. A heron watched us from the riverbank with a knowing smile, as if he wanted us to fully experience this state of awe.With every passing minute that we ventured deeper into the park, the smell of raw, rotting fish and bird poop intensified until we turned a corner to see a stretch of marsh filled with birds. This was the town hall meeting of pelicans where I am convinced they were debating the best reforms for Senegalese infrastructure problems and failing education system. Thousands of pelicans were crowded into a tiny space, stepping on one another, squawking, and generally having a good time. It almost felt as though I was overstepping some unspoken boundary to get a glimpse into their intimate lives.After two hours of magic on the river, we returned back to the dock and back into St. Louis.
Before I can begin sharing stories of my adventures in Senegal, I have to share a few life lessons learned during my glacial adventure in northern Montana.1. Always check the expiration date. Without fail, many foods served in the Employee Dining Room (EDR) were leftovers from the lodge's restaurant. Any food that was too old to be served to customers came to us, and more often than not the milk had expired over a week earlier. I couldn't help but notice that after we through out rotten bananas from the grocery store, we had banana pancakes, and after we threw out rotten tomatoes and celery, we had chili. Coincidence? I think not.2. Be nice to people. Even the slightest gesture of kindness can go a long way. For example, a friend of mine that worked in the coffee shop was not given a dinner break, so in order to eat from the EDR she either had to sneak out of work, run over, and bring back a plate of food, purchase something from the grocery store after her shift, or forego the meal. I offered to bring her a plate whenever I could, and in exchange she frequently provided me with free fudge, hot chocolate, or (my favorite) huckleberry iced soda. It was a pretty sweet deal for both of us - excuse the pun.3. Appreciate hot showers. It took about ten days to get hot water installed in my cabin. In fact, we didn't even have lukewarm water for a while, but instead it felt like pure glacier water, so cold that it made my head hurt. Instead of suffering through that (or being dirty), I went to the cabin next to me to use their shower every day. Again, refer to lesson number two.4. Having a work uniform is awesome. Every day, I knew exactly what to wear and didn't waste any time staring at my (small) wardrobe. Everything I had packed comfortably fit into one suitcase. There was no comparison among employees, and my morning routine was very quick and simple. I was even allowed to wear my hiking boots instead of the black shoes required for most positions.5. Stay flexible. My experience in Montana was not what I expected. Instead of working at the front desk, I enjoyed the grocery store. Instead of hiking daily, I went on long and grueling thrice weekly hikes. And instead of feeling very secure, I met the most eclectic and eccentric assortment of people of my life. While the experience did not carry through the entire summer as expected, I made the most of it and will always remember some of the great (and crazy) people and hiking trails.6. Look for the good things! This is directly related to lesson number five. As Padre always says, if you look for the good, you'll find the good, and if you look for the bad, you'll find the bad. On a bad day, I stopped to think about how many timeless stories I was accumulating, how beautiful the bear grass looked in bloom, and how much I enjoyed having a philosophical conversation with my new Kazakh friends. Suddenly, any kind of day just isn't that bad...6. Look at the sky every now and then. Since I was in Big Sky country, I took a few moments every day to enjoy the sky and appreciate being in this beautiful corner of the world. One night, after working the late shift, I walked back up to the EV in the dark, lit only by a full moon. I was impressed by how bright my path still was and had the opportunity to admire the light's reflection in the pond alongside the road, the crisp breeze, and the peacefulness of a still night.
