525,600 minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

We arrived in Dakar before the sun had brightened the hazy sky on March 7, 2012.  Even though I had awaited Peace Corps service for the two and a half years we had been in the application process, I had no idea what to expect.  Or if I did have an idea, I was wrong.  One year later, I sit in my hut in the 105 degree heat watching Pat sharpen his machete like it’s the most ordinary day in the world.  In this blog, I have tried to capture this last year in words and pictures, focusing on individual experiences and themes.  But how, on this momentous occasion of our year anniversary in Senegal, can I portray the year in one post?

When it doubt, turn to musical theater.  If you are not familiar with Rent, I suggest checking out the following link before continuing your reading experience.

So how do you measure a year?

In daylights

 It might be quite surprising to most people how much Senegal has forced me to become a morning person.  I am almost always awake before daylight (it’s hard to sleep in when there are donkeys and goats making ridiculous noises that I never associated with farm animals before coming here), and I might as well get up early to enjoy the coolest part of the day.  I have come to savor mornings, before hut guilt sets in and I feel like I have to go out and do volunteer-y things.  When my friend Kara visited, she admitted that she was disappointed that “Morning Annē” didn’t make an appearance.

In sunsets

One cultural difference that has really surprised me is the lack of appreciation of the beauty of natures among the Malinkes.  I am often exclaiming about the beauty of the sky at sunset, and they just laugh and laugh like it’s the craziest thing they have ever heard.

In midnights

By far the most memorable midnight occurred a few months ago when Pat and I decided with our friend Ian to do a “Moonlight Ride” from our site to Kedougou (about 60 kilometers) so that we could both do our weekly radio show on Sunday night and make a meeting in Kedougou in the morning and welcome the new Agriculture volunteers who were arriving.  It was a night that made me feel like I was progressing in my goal of becoming more badass.

 In cups of coffee

Buying a French press before we came was one of our best packing decisions.  You can get instant coffee, but it’s just not the same.  Plus if you buy an already-prepared cup of coffee at a bean sandwich stand, it is guaranteed to enough sugar to bake a batch of cookies.

In inches

In the past year I have weighed both the least I have weighed and the last ten years and the most I have weighed in the last ten years.  The former was a result of having giardia while fasting for Ramadan, and I think the latter is due to a combination of my body thinking that it was in starving mode during Ramadan and holding onto every calorie, a diet that basically consists of oil and rice, decreased motivation to exercise in the heat, and a newly developed habit of turning to food for comfort.  Weight gain is not easy in a culture where everyone feels the need to point out to you that you are now big (they really do mean it as a compliment) and in a place where people really would like for you to be pregnant (rumors have been flying). 

 In miles

We live in the region that is the most removed from the capital, and thus have to spend many, many miles and hours enduring public transportation.  Americans would never imagine the possibilities of amounts of people to stuff into a vehicle or the amount or kinds of things appropriate to strap to the top, the ways to keep non-functioning cars running.  It is impossible to make it from my site to Dakar in one day, and I have had countless breakdowns, flat tires, fights with drivers.  Public transportation does not bring out the best in me, but it is a reality of life here.  The basic unit of transportation in Senegal is the 7-place, 7 people stuffed into an old Peugeot station wagon, although in Kedougou, the same car magically becomes a 9-place.  Sometimes it’s just easier to bike.  In fact, my friend Karin, who lives 90 kilometers from Kedougou has chosen to always bike after she one waited 12 hours at the garage waiting for the car to fill up.

In laughter

Each year, Dakar hosts WAIST: the West African Invitational Softball Tournament.  The Kedougou team’s theme this year was Geriatrics.  I wasn’t too stoked about this theme until my 20 year old host brother came to lunch wearing a shirt that said, “Grandma is my name, and spoiling is my game.”  I had no choice but to buy it off of him.  The tournament was a blast, and a great break.  It turns out that Kedougou volunteers are collectively pretty terrible at softball (maybe we got too into character), but we had a blast anyway.

In strife

I only live about 50 kilometers away from the border with Mali (if we had an address, it would be on “The Mali Road”), so the conflict there has been more than just a news story.  When I got home from our trip to France, there were hundreds of Senegalese soldiers who had taken over the shade structure where I typically go to do work.  They had come to secure the borders.  A British-Pakistani student was arrested on (false) suspicion of terrorism in a village in Kedougou.  Pat has been told to shave his beard for his own security, so as not to be associated with Islamist groups.  We have never felt unsafe, but we are constantly made aware of the volatile world we live in.


In truths that she learned

I have been told that Africa has its own reality, and, to some extent, I believe it.  I have found it so fascinating to learn about the beliefs that are taken to be unshakeable truth.  The genie with the face of a beautiful woman but with hooves who shows up at really hoppin’ parties and seduces men, who then go mad when they see her hooves.  Or the giant beast with six legs that lives in the forest and hunts lions.  The power of leaves, saliva, and words in the practice of traditional medicine. Africa has its own reality, indeed.

Or in times that she cried

I was a frequent crier before coming to Senegal, but the combination of the heat, cultural differences, frequent failure, along the harshness of life (for myself but particularly for my friends and neighbors) has made me a frequent weeper.  It doesn’t take much, and it all comes out—all of the unanswered questions about the injustice of the world’s disparities and my own homesickness, anxieties and failure can only be dealt with through weeping.  This is sometimes difficult considering the fact that I am constantly under observation and the general Malinke intolerance for adult tear shedding.

  
In bridges he burned,

In probably the most frustrating experience of the past year, I was obliged to write a formal letter of complaint regarding an organization that I have long respected and even contributed to financially.  We had partnered with this organization for a big project, and they simply did not do the work to fulfill their part of the partnership (to supervise in the field since they have motorcycles and money to pay agents) and failed to communicate this to us until it was too late.  This really damages the validity of the results we will get for the project, and I have had to face my fear of conflict to properly address the situation. 

Or the way that he died.

When someone dies, you know it from the wail.  Women shriek and shriek.  The most haunting occurrence was when a boy from a neighboring village had been brought to the hospital because of a snake bite.  We found almost the whole town crowded outside the health center gate as we walked home.  Not wanting to interfere, we kept going after offering benedictions.  Then, an hour later, we heard the wail more clearly than ever before.  I went out and saw the procession heading away from the health center, crying out the news and the pain.  He had been due to get married the next month, and had been bitten while gathering thatch.  I don’t think I have ever heard a sound that so accurately expresses a specific emotion as the wail.

It's time now to sing out,
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends
Remember the love!

To be totally honest, I don’t love Senegal as I have loved other places I have lived or visited.  I’m a sucker for natural beauty, and, although pockets of beauty do exist, they are overpowered by deforestation and garbage as far as the eye can see.  But over the past year, I have grown to love the people I live with so dearly, that all of the frustration and sorrow of living and working in this place is worth it. 

Measure your life in love.