I contain multitudes.

I have been back in the states for almost two weeks now. And once you have gone, it is so easy to see.

Why America is the land of opportunity.

Here, I can choose. I choose all sorts of things. Chocolate or vanilla. College or career. Satellite or cable. Marriage or motherhood or not. And we take those silly and not-so-silly choices for granted every day, never realizing what a fortune already lies in their simple existence.

I have so much. We have so much. Yet it is never enough. And I fall into the trap time after time, of needing what I want.

Travel, as always, inspires me to touch this world. To run. jump. play. To live less within my own head. There, life is tuned into nature, rising like the tide through courtyard and window and rooftop. A fluency between human and earth exists which has been lost in our climate control and desk jobs. I have the urge to walk endlessly, searching for that same sense of connection. Stillness in the constant turning. Difficult now to focus on how heart.lungs.brain.kidney can be altered with medication when I have so much life to embrace.

To revisit my original expectations, I will say this:

I have fallen in love with music all over again. The beating heart of the drum, the sweeping elegance of the kora. The purity of an art practiced for its own sake. Nothing else simultaneously grounds and lifts you, melts you into the world while allowing you to really see it. An unspoken language that can connect you to another, to yourself, deeper than words ever could.

Freedom for women comes with economic opportunity. How fortunate I am to be able to use my mind in pursuing a career which allows me to support myself. To share this life with a person of my choice, if I so decide, rather than out of financial necessity or family obligation.

The tea is actually sweet and delicious. On a good day, I can haggle with the best of them and fetch myself a taxi in French - without pushing the starting price upward ;) I can relate to Beth what I am 95% sure Mama Aida was trying to tell me, only to be utterly wrong every time.

Personal favorite
My translation: "Oh she likes how I braided my hair today! Thanks Mama, I did it myself!"
Actual translation: "What are you putting in your hair because it bleached the sheets I put on your bed?!"

I don't expect to ever return to Senegal. I would gladly go back, but there is so much more ground to tread upon. I say goodbye with an eternal sense of gratitude for this experience. For its lessons in hospitality and tolerance, its little and big pushes outside of my comfort zone. A reminder of the glow I feel when surrounded by salt water and infinite horizons. Recognition of truly wanting to be none other than myself. An urge to write that I have not felt in years. To empty the worlds within me onto paper. So many gifts I have been given. I push forward, resolving to work hard. To live more simply. A little less comfortably. Lessen my carbon footprint, but always leave a mark. To love; fiercely and graciously. Share generously. To appreciate all I have, all I am.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.

 I am large. I contain multitudes.

-Walt Whitman

Plastic is invading us

I mentioned one of my first impressions of Africa was the amount of trash everywhere. I have since learned that in the early days of our trip the garbage collectors were on strike, which somewhat explained the huge piles of trash everywhere. However, even when these workers are doing their job, garbage and pollution still abound.

A very important issue in Africa is the lack of space that exists here. Space is a luxury that only the wealthy can truly afford. One of the professors on the trip with us lived in Senegal 30 years ago. She said at the time she was here, the population of Dakar was 150,000. Now the population is close to 3 million, about 25% of the country’s population. With that many people living in such close confines, unless you can afford to create space for yourself, you have none. The whole city becomes your home.  You maybe have a roof or a small shanty to sleep in, but people seem to roam freely. You eat where you can, you use the bathroom where you can, you make money where you can, and you throw your trash where you can. In poverty, there is no defined space for such things, which is somewhat of a foreign concept to an American. We have a kitchen to eat in, a bathroom to relieve ourselves in, a bedroom to sleep in, trash cans in nearly every room, a dump to bring our garbage too, and endless amounts of space in which to perform our daily activities.

The director of WARC made what I felt was a rather important comment that “Plastic is invading us.” He mentioned specifically the impact that plastic bags have had on rural villages. Plastic bags that litter the ground are accidently eaten by cows as they graze and, ultimately, cause the animal’s death. Is there anything more unnatural than plastic? Yet it is everywhere, even in Africa, the birthplace of humanity, where nature has always been revered as central to life. How has this invasion of the unnatural affected Africa? Has it hindered, destroying the pureness of the land and the livelihood of rural families, more than it has offered? Even in America, such synthetic materials make our lives convenient, tidy, easy, but what have they cost us? We are, for example, told to avoid plastic water bottles containing certain chemicals now known to be toxic to our bodies. Are we poisoning ourselves, losing our connection to the natural beauty that surrounds us, in the name of convenience?

It’s difficult to take pictures that truly capture the amount of garbage, but it is somewhat overwhelming. Plastic has truly invaded the landscape. 

1: Me

2: http://www.righttosightandhealth.org

3: yveslebelge.skynetblogs.be

Village Life

One of the professors on the trip with us is originally from Senegal, and Thursday night we had the opportunity to visit his village in rural Africa. After a very long, 8 hour bus trip from Dakar (with several stops along the way), we arrived in Tene Toubab just as the sun was setting. We were met with horse drawn carts to give us a ride from the road into the village.

We were greeted by the entire village - men, women, and children welcomed us with drumming and dancing. The dancing here was very much like drumming, feet pounding on the ground in time to the beat. Children that could barely walk were up dancing - it is so incredible to witness the infusion of rhythm into the soul of these people. I would not have missed this night for anything.

The village still leads an extremely rural existence. There is no electricity, and there is only recently the addition of running water. Once the sun set, pitch darkness set in very quickly. The people here truly live off the land. Their houses, fences, everything is made out of natural materials. The sense of community is overwhelming. The people eat together in a common area, raise their children together, really live together. It is human nature to complicate things, and I don't want to make the assumption that people in rural areas have less problems, less heartache than we do in our "modern" world. But human interaction still exists in a way that gets lost in our technology - our texting and emailing and facebooking that allow us to stay in touch without ever actually touching.

The children (and the adults) were so excited to have pictures taken and be able to view them after. I made lots of friends, but one little 9-year old girl named Kumba eventually grabbed my hand and didn't let go. She had a stutter and seemed more stoic than the rest of the children. I could tell she was so pleased to have my attention when it was so clearly wanted, but I didn't see her really smile until I gave her a piggyback ride all around the village. I wonder what that stutter means for her - and what it will mean as she gets older. She was crying when I left, and I gave her my watch because it's all I really had to give her.

How incredible it is to think that both this life and mine co-exist in the same world. And I wonder how the presence of a modern world impacts that of the rural. To know there is a place called America, where a group of "rich" people came on a big bus and gave us lots of presents and played with us and then drove away back to that place from which they came. Are stories of their own, like our professor, who moved abroad told with reverence? Do children begin to look down on this rural life or at the very least hope to leave it behind them? Will rural life eventually collapse - and the beauty of community and nature sacrificed in the name of comfort and possessions and technology?

I could have stayed here a long time, possibly forever. And maybe I'll be back - not here exactly, but somewhere like it. To learn the stories of these people and share their lives.

Now we are spending a few days in an artist's community called Sobo Bade, aka paradise. I'm attending an African drumming class in an hour!

Weekend: Keur Mousa

This weekend…

…watched a call to prayer from outside the Grand Mosque on the Islamic holy day (Friday)

…attended a mass at the Keur Mousa Monastery

…official start of the rainy season

… visited Lac Rose, the “pink lake”

…crazy ride through the desert sand dunes

…live music at Balajo

…danced all night at Nirvana

…morning jog and beach meditation

…experienced a Senegalese wrestling match

The juxtaposition of Islam and Christianity here is so interesting. Although the vast majority (90-95%) of the country is Islamic, both religions co-exist very peacefully. It was interesting to see both practices within the span of a weekend. Visiting the monks at the monastery was particularly thought provoking. What dedication – it takes over 10 years to be able to take one’s final vows and become a monk. Each day is spent in prayer (7 times a day), mass, fellowship, studies, and work. The monastery is almost entirely self-sufficient, at least in terms of food. It is also home to some of the world’s finest koras. A kora is a very popular African string instrument made of cow skin stretched over a large gourd called a calabash. It looks a little bit like a guitar except it has two sets of strings instead of one. The monastery has a famous workshop where koras are produced and sent all over the world. The instrument has evolved greatly since ancient times, and the monk mentioned that the monastery recently worked with an engineering school in Senegal to determine the exact tension needed on each string to create a metal lever that switches between major and minor key.

The kora and drums are used for music during mass at the monastery, which added a different flair to the service. It’s so interesting to see what instruments have evolved in different parts of Africa and around the world, in a way that is mostly dependent on the environment (particularly access to wood). 

The imagery of a black Jesus is also extremely prevalent here. The chapel that mass was held in had an entire wall depicting the birth of Christ and various events in his life, with all characters illustrated as black. And why wouldn’t it be this way? Christ is a figure of freedom, and I imagine it’s hard to reconcile a white man in this role. Christianity was originally forced on the African people, yet here they have adapted it to their own understanding. A figurehead who understands their suffering, who offers something to believe in. Hope.

I liked that the monks were also involved in scholarly (seminary) pursuits. The monk we talked to at the kora workshop said he has taken all the courses personally offered by the monastery and is now taking online courses to continue studying. Online courses at the monastery! Technology shows up in the strangest of places.

More about my weekend soon!

The Before

 So where exactly is Senegal?

There it is! And there I will be for the next three weeks!

Since it is technically a study abroad trip, I am required to create a blog to receive the credit. Although I plan to attempt an ongoing narrative, I have no idea how often I'll actually be able to post while I'm gone (depending on time and wireless access). It may end up being mostly created upon my return.

I bet you all have some ideas in your head of what I will see and experience. We all have our own belief of what "Africa" is. And as a reference to give me the ability to re-evaluate my perceptions post-trip, I will make a list.

Here are my most honest (ridiculous or shallow as they may be) expectations:

1. To be surrounded by music at all times.

2. Come home with loads of amazing jewelry. And completely broke.

3. Experience a family unit very different than the isolated nuclear units of Western civilization. Here, even within our families we each have our own space in the house and are afforded much psychological space. I expect the Senegalese family unit to be much more extensive and inclusive. By way of this - I expect to have very little space or privacy. As someone who has always needed quite a bit of alone time, I think this will be difficult for me.

4. To love the food, but to hate the "tea" served in the evenings. The Senegalese traditionally gather as a family and have 3 rounds of green tea, each stronger than the last. The last round is supposed to be quite bitter, as the tea has become very concentrated by then. Since I like my coffee and tea very sweet (and am terrible at pretending to like food when I don't), I expect to more or less suffer through this so as not to offend my host.

5. Gain a greater understanding of the Islamic culture. The majority of Senegal is Muslim, and the call to prayer will be announced five times a day. This kind of submersion in Islam will be a first for me.

6. Learn to effectively haggle. Become a little proficient in French.

7. Get to wear one of those African head wraps! Always so jealous of those! Who wants to do their hair every day, seriously.

8. One of the only things that really makes me angry is inequality for women (and inequality in general). Seeing or hearing or reading about a lack of education and opportunity for women makes me uncharacteristically mad. I expect to see a lot of this and become more educated myself on the particular obstacles women in this part of the world face.

9. To fall in love with another culture, another language, another people. To be greatly and permanently altered.

More to come! I leave in the morning!