But I don't want to sit down...

It’s funny how so often, the situation that you know would scare you the most is usually the one in which you eventually find yourself. Through my study abroad program, students are given the opportunity to spend one week in a rural village to experience daily life, tasks, and interactions and to just be a part of a community that is different from the ones we left. Going into the week, I had no idea what to expect. We were told to prepare for two things specifically: extreme heat and a whole lot of sitting around doing nothing.
Because we were not given much of a choice as to where we were placed, I chose to work with an organization named APROFES, which is an organization for the promotion of women’s rights in Senegal. I thought that maybe, in working with an organization like this, I would spend my week surrounded by other students and stay active with a clear goal for the week.

Evidently, I still had yet to realize that this is Senegal, which means things rarely go as planned.
After spending the night in individual host families in Kaolack, we were sent off individually to separate villages in the area. As we were driving away from the city to be dropped off in our villages for the week, a few of us students were beginning to freak out. Not only were we going to be completely alone in our villages, but we also had no idea of what kind of tasks we would be given to be productive for the organization. As we sat there in the back of the truck, we contemplated ways to get the driver to just turn around and head back to the city. There was no way that I was going to be able to spend a whole week alone in a village.

Eventually it was my turn to get out and greet my new host family, who promptly renamed me “Oumy Saho” because I was officially a part of the village family. While everyone in the village was extremely welcoming and generous, I immediately realized that I was in a very frightening situation. I was alone in a village where the people spoke Wolof exclusively. No French at all- and definitely no English. Thankfully I have learned enough in my Wolof classes to be able to express basic phrases and just decided to play charades for the rest of the time. Even so, it became frustrating at times when the girls of the village would try to ask a question that I didn’t understand and, after responding “dëguma” (I don’t understand), they would just repeat it louder and then laugh when that wasn’t enough to make me immediately know what they were saying.

After the initial shock wore off, I began to understand that if I wanted to get anything out of this experience, I was going to need to be extremely proactive about being a part of the community. I lost count the first day of how many times I heard in Wolof, “Oumy, come sit.” Yes, I needed to realize that it is very much a part of the culture to sit in the shade, braid hair, drink Ataaya, and chat, but I knew that I could not spend my whole week being treated like a tourist, sitting on my own special chair watching everyone else do work.

Eventually, when I was told to “come sit”, I found the energy to say “deedeet, bëgg naa liggeey” (No, I want to work). Once I had repeated that a few times, I was finally able to actually help with washing clothes and ironing (which shocked them to find out that yes, I do both of those things myself back in the United States). These moments when I was working alongside the other girls of the village made me feel productive and included and I was finally able to feel like I could overcome this challenge of being by myself. I found it so fascinating to watch the girls in their work and in their interactions with others. I loved going to the well with them in the evenings and seeing the beautiful rhythm of bringing up the water and their grace as they carried the buckets back to the village on their heads (which was a task that I didn’t bother try because I knew I would just spill all the water on the ground and have to start again...)

Spending that week alone in the village really changed the way I see my comfort zone. For the first time, I was aching to just be able to relax and speak French and I began to really miss my second home and family in Dakar. With less than a month left here in Senegal (what?!), I'm trying to keep up this attitude and be as much a part of my family, neighborhood, and community as possible- even if it means being teased for saying "dëguma" a few more times!

How do you eat a mango??

I’ve never eaten so many mangoes in my life…Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Spring Break in Senegal right in the middle of mango season means buying them in bulk for next to nothing and eating them to survive the 12 hour drive from Dakar to Tambacounda in a 14 passenger mini-bus holding 18 people in 100 degree weather. It was kind of a crazy week.

Day one: Drive from Dakar to “campement” in Dar Salaam. 

 Like I said, our transportation may not have been the most comfortable or the most conducive to sleep, but it certainly was the beginning of our week of adventures. Cramped in the back of a mini-bus, bumping along the rough, dirt roads, my friends and I realized pretty quickly that personal space no longer existed- at least not for the next week.

When we arrived at our hotel in Dar Salaam, we were thrilled to see a few mango trees and immediately began our plotting of sneaking out in the middle of the night to stock up for the week…

Day two: National Park Niokolo-Koba!

6 people, but only enough seats for 4. What does that mean? It means trading off who has to sit in the back of the truck being bombarded by dust and dirt as we bounce along the park’s trails looking for any kind of animal sighting. It means mouthfuls of dirt and skin that magically turns 5 shades darker, that is, until you shower. We did get to see quite a few monkeys, a warthog, and (YAY) 4 hippos! 

Day three and four: Hiking, mountain climbing, and visiting villages.

Each of us stocked with our three water bottles, layers and layers of sunscreen, sturdy shoes, and gifts for village chiefs, we set out with our guide to do some hiking. In those two days, we hiked two mountains to the villages at the top and visited two more villages at the base of the mountains. While it was amazing to be able to see the green landscapes of Guinea from the top of the mountain, I was probably the most moved by the trek up the mountain. Each time we were climbing, we passed several children on their way down the mountain with empty 10 liter bottles of water on their heads. We knew right away that this was one of probably 4 or 5 trips up and down this mountain to refill the water jugs to deliver to their villages at the top. As I thought about how tired I was in the heat of the day and how I was going to tackle the steep incline of the trail, I immediately thought of those children- many of them making the trips barefoot or sharing one shoe each, just doing what is necessary for their families. 

Day five: Waterfall in Dindefelo

Our guide’s reward to us for surviving the two days of hiking was to spend the day at the most beautiful waterfall I have ever seen. A 45 minute walk from our guide's native village, it was like we had traveled straight to Hawaii. After a day of swimming and relaxing in the cool (clean) air, we traveled back to Kedougou in the evening just in time to visit the market and head to the Peace Corps house for the night. 

Day six: Kedougou back to Dakar: 12 hour drive.

After a week of sight-seeing, hiking, and playing with the kids of each village, it was time to head back to reality. It may not have been a relaxing spring break on a beach, but I absolutely loved our week of adventures, however dusty and dirty we may have been.