Halfway!

Two months ago today, I got on a plane in the United States and got off in Dakar, Senegal ready for an adventure. Little did I know that every day in between would be its own little adventure. Today marks the official half-way point of the semester. And, while it has taken a little while for me to really adjust to this life, I can confidently say now that I am addicted to Senegal!

I am addicted to being a Toubab but not a tourist... (As strange as that may sound.)
I know that just by the color of my skin I am going to pay more for taxis and fabric, and that I am going to be stopped by random people who want to practice their English. I can't help that. But when that does happen, I am ready to show them that I am not just here to sight-see. This is my home, however temporary. Being a Toubab but not a tourist means responding in French when people try to "take it easy on you" by starting a conversation in English. It means counting the 180 steps of the African Renaissance Statue in Wolof just because we can. It means putting in the effort to make the next two months meaningful not only for me, but for the people around me.

I am addicted to life as Oumy Paye.
When I was riding in a taxi with my host sister last night, and I figured out that she didn't actually know my American name, I realized that Oumy has become like an alter-ego! No, Aby, you will not find me on Facebook by searching Oumy Paye... :p In her defense, I never knew how difficult it really is for people here to say (and spell, evidently) the name Becca. I have heard and seen everything from Bacca to Beckham, yes, the soccer player.

I am addicted to living with a host family.
As much as I love the friends I have made here, nothing can replace the personal growth that comes from living with a host family. Being a member of my large family means crowded mealtimes, waiting for the one bathroom to be free, hearing entire conversations being yelled from across the house, and not much privacy. But I wouldn't trade any of that because being a member of this family also means learning about the Muslim religion from two different generations, and experiencing first-hand the Senegalese tradition of Teranga (generosity).  It means two-hour long tri-lingual conversations with my brother while making Ataaya and teasing my sister about her English grammar. It also means being able to see my host mom's face light up when I tell her we are going to make S'mores again tonight.

It is hard to believe that just two months ago, I arrived (quite awkwardly) at my home-stay, greeted them by saying the Wolof phrase backwards, and was genuinely terrified that I would never find my place in the family. Today, looking towards the second half of my semester, I am hoping only that time would just slow down because there is way too much to learn and experience before I leave.