When talking to other students in Senegal, I've found that while all of our experiences are very different, we all agree that our lives here could be translated into a certain brand of comedy based on discomfort and awkward, bizarre situations. In addition to the fact that most of us have been in some capacity ill from malaria medication, copious amounts of rich food, and the heat, we have also been dealing with the rather stressful experience of living with a Senegalese family. I have been lucky in that my host family has been extremely kind and generous, but even so, it would be impossible to remain sane here without patience and a sense of humor. A fellow student was telling me today that she went to visit a friend during Korite, and when she arrived, the children of the household ran out from the kitchen bringing her french fries - a Senegalese favorite, for some reason. Unsure if it was acceptable for her to take them and not wanting to draw attention to the issue, she tried to clandestinely push the hot fries in her mouth as the children insisted on continuing to bring them to her.
I find that it's easier to deal with things here by expecting weird, unexplainable things to happen without internalizing them too much yet - it's simply a part of Senegal. There's a horse trotting around the highway untethered? Well, I am in Senegal. I'm hounded by vendors trying to sell the rich American something? I am in Senegal. We have to wait an hour on a packed, shuddering bus? I'm in Senegal. The power goes out for the fourth time during the day? I'm in Senegal. A man is slaughtering a goat on the walk to school? In Senegal.
But more than oddness, I find kindness, intelligence, and tenacity in Dakar. The same children who beg for money during the day play games with old tires with neighborhood children. The Koranic professor in traditional dress who visits my home plays a soccer video game with the six year old boy. The man taking care of his garden and a nearby in the neighborhood explains that he too is an American, and invites me to stop by for dinner with he and his wife anytime I wish to talk with him in English. The man in the boutique nearby gives me an ice cream bar when my host mother insists that I too, like the ten year old girl, am her daughter. Upon seeing us attempting to cross the busy VDN, a passing man walks out on the street to ensure that cars will stop and we are able to cross, then continues on his way. And in these small acts, despite being underdeveloped, Senegal is extremely rich.
Beautiful post
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