Thursday, July 9, 2020

Closure


On the way forward...

It’s been more than three months since my unexpected return home from Kedougou, Senegal due to Covid 19.

During these past three months I scored a full-time direct hire position at the USDA, met someone pretty cool, and bought a bike almost identical to the one I had in Senegal. It seems like I climbed out of this evacuation and THRIVED, but that’s not true.

lil' Booga. 
Thinking of my time in Kedougou always brings intense emotions of longing and guilt. However, in an attempt to live in the moment, anytime those thoughts would pop up I would whack it out. But when staring at a camp fire in Northern Virginia brings me to tears because it reminds me of those cold season nights in village when a fire and my dog sitting at my feet was the nightly routine… I know “living in the moment” is impossible. I’m writing this to give myself some closure on how I’m feeling and address the fact that I’m not over it.
   
My life in Senegal was riding a shitty bike to work with a chain that kept falling off through mud and rocks in 110-degree heat. It was 15 hour night bus rides with no air conditioning from Kedougou to the capital once a month just to attend two-day trainings at the Peace Corps training center. It was catching fire in my hut that led me back to the
capital to recover for two months. It was biking 5 miles to the nearest road town for cell service to check my email, and then a two hour PACKED mini van ride for WiFi. It was being an outsider that would never be able to truly integrate in a community I admired. It was questioning the Peace Corps mission and asking whether we are doing more harm than good. It. Was. Tough.

Village "traffic" 
But in the midst of all that there were moments that I’ll always think fondly of. Like learning the local language and being able to joke around with the kids in village. It was drinking hot tea during the heat of the day with my host brothers and shooing away chickens. It was going out to the fields to greet my host sisters and learning how gardening works. It was the amazing transition from desert to tropical rainforest in the span of three months during rainy season. It was a dog, Booga, that was there for me when I was lonely. It was a group of amazing volunteers that was there for me to fall back on. And to continue the theme of things catching fire, it was how the community came together when a hut got struck by lightning and burned to the ground (no one was harmed).

Soooo many onions
The good, the bad, and the ugly combined to make Senegal the place where I got out of that convenient, sterile bubble I was in in the States and experience life at a level way beyond that bubble. And it was nice.

I delayed coming back to the States. Growing up as a third culture kid, I never identified this place as home anyways. Washington DC especially is a difficult and lonely place because everyone is a stranger and only here for work. I knew I would end up here sooner or later for a career, but I was planning on delaying that as much as possible.

My delay strategy was awesome too. I was gonna go bike packing with a peace corps friend for a month in Morocco and then spend Christmas in Germany. But the pandemic came rolling in in perfect 2020 fashion and threw me back to the very place I’ve been avoiding for the past year and a half. My time in Senegal was a dream.

Lonely DC. Photo cred: me :) 
Today I’m experiencing a whole new reality. The news is exploding about tragic things like the coronavirus not being taken seriously here in the US and culture wars occurring between the right and the left. A life-saving mask is now a political statement when it shouldn’t be. Black Lives Matter, a movement that I support and believe in, shed a powerful spotlight on the racial injustices in this country. So now I’m reconsidering what it means to be American, not only here but overseas too. Being in Peace Corps, the “white savior complex” was very present and not addressed during our trainings at all. After staying in Senegal for a year and a half, I realized that I know nothing about development compared to those in my community and that should be taught.
   
All that being said, I have hope that this fog will lift in the coming months. The Malinke phrase “dondin-dondin” (little by little) helped me cope with life in Senegal and is applicable to my journey right now. I’m just taking small, difficult steps towards my new reality. 



Wednesday, February 12, 2020

50 km Bike Ride Through the Bush



So it’s the new year and one more year of living here in Kedougou. I’m not going to lie, this past year went by slowly due to all the adjustment, language learning, and cultural struggles. But now that I’ve learned enough about how to be comfortable with the work flow and village life, I think this last year will cruise by. That being said, one of my New Years resolutions is to share as much as I can about my time remaining here in Senegal. Amongst the occasional lows of living in Kedougou, so many ridiculous, hilarious, inspiring, heart warming, and amazing things happen in between and that makes this overall experience something to write about. 

So anyways I did something dumb the other day ago and decided to bike 50 km through the bush. Why? Well to greet the new master farmer in Nafadji (his village) of course! It might be a feat to do something that seems so unimportant...but the Senegalese take greetings very seriously and definitely would remember that one peace corps volunteer that stopped by their place 10 years ago. I also did it because since biking is the only way I can leave village, I’ve started getting into it a lot more. I’ve done a couple bike tourneys with the peace corps volunteers in the area where we would bike 100+ km in 5 days so I thought I could handle it. 

Well the bike ride came with ups and downs (literally). Just like life, going up the hills was a major pain in the butt, but going down them was so much fun. Up side: the scenery, monkey sightings in the distance, and the master farmers family. The down side can only be described in three (or mayby two...?) words: tse tse flies. These ass holes are all over the Saraya region and swarm you especially if you’re alone in the middle of the bush. Their bite hurts almost like a bee sting and they just love to burrow into your chacos just to sting you in the same place over and over again. They were there going to Nafadji and ESPECIALLY on the way back (me being tired and the strong sun didn’t help the situation either). Despite the flies trying their best to ruin my trip, the scenery was incredible. The Saraya region is pretty but there isn’t really a landscape until you start heading towards Guinea. Nafadji happens to to be almost on the border of Guinea therefore on the way there I was blessed with a great view of their blue ridge mountains. 
The fam chilling after lunch 

Anyways, this master farmer and Nafadji was worth all that biking. The Senegalese are the most hospitable people I know and they treat their guests like VIPs. When I came rolling in with my tse tse fly posse the master farmer was there waiting for me by the breakfast stand. He walked my bike over to his home where his grand children and wife were there chilling outside in the shade. He gave me breakfast and coffee and then showed me his new field where he single handedly outplanted over a hundred mango and cashew trees. We went back to his house to eat lunch and watch TV in the shade and then I was on my way back. That whole stay was very humbling and him and his family really made an effort to make my time there comfortable. 

As I write this my legs and arms are pretty sore, but a good kind of of sore because I did something different that day. I’m one year in my service and staying in village can be hard because nothing much ever goes on in a town of 200 people. So hopefully I can work up the courage to get on my bike and see more Kedougou before I leave! 

Closure

On the way forward... It’s been more than three months since my unexpected return home from Kedougou, Senegal due to Covid 19. ...