One year in Senegal

  

I’ve spent one year in Senegal. Harvest season transitioned to cold season, and then hot season, to rainy season, and now back to harvest season. I’ve went from gardening, to tree work, to field crops. As we spend our afternoons sitting underneath our tree, our otherwise idle hands kept busy: from cracking peanuts, to braiding hair, to plucking leaves from their stems to be cooked, and now shelling beans. Time has moved so slowly and yet so quickly- every step of the way, I myself wishing for it both to slow down and to speed up. A now famous quote amongst volunteers: “at least once a day I hate this country and once a day I love this country”. And while there are those times that challenge me beyond sanity, I embrace each upcoming day. And now I embrace the next upcoming year. 
It certainly has been a year of challenge. But the challenges have changed and evolved: passing my technical exams during training, to language learning, starting my own garden, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence, missing cheese and salad, finding workpartners, holding successful trainings, maintaining my health, staying connected to those I love in America, fulfilling my bosses expectations- and fulfilling my own, understanding some of the social and cultural complexities and living in those that don’t coincide with my own social and cultural values, and new friends sick or passing on. The challenges transformed from the initial adaptation and longing for some of the comforts of home, to struggling for successful work, to missing those in the states after so much time apart, to now- where I have a greater understanding of the things around me, whether good or bad- and now, that I am truly connected to my home, that I am more vulnerable to the pain of loss. But with each challenge, I have learned immensely- most importantly, that the learning will never cease. Lessons in patience, flexibility, compassion, strength, intellect, generosity, and devotion, are just the beginnings. I have grown and found strength. I have found new friends, new joys, new senses of purpose that I had not had otherwise. By being so visible and having my identity scrutinized and challenged, I have finally had to be sure of who I am- and in doing so, I can see the parts of myself that I love, value and respect. 
I can measure my one year of work in numbers: 5 garden demonstrations, 585 trees outplanted, 6 hectares under improved seed spread out amongst 50 farmers, 135 fruit trees in compounds and gardens, 520 moringa trees seeded in the community garden, 108 farmers I have trained, 1 new crop (taro!) and 8 improved varieties of field crops I extended, 9 female high school students provided scholarships, 1 grant for the construction of 4 water storage basins approved, 2 farmers trained in tree grafting, and 30 middle schoolers who attended a youth leadership camp. But as I have learned, these are just numbers. My successes, and their accompanying failures, my experiences, my friendships, and my service is not captured in numbers. For how can I put numbers to all of the new friends I make- the evenings spent sharing bedtime stories with the children- the feeling of being with my Senegalese mom side by side in the seasonal river with hands deep in the river’s muck as we transplant rice- the joy as my baby sister examines a photo of herself showcasing her newly braided hair for the upcoming holiday- or my little brother’s wonder as he looks up at a plane in the night sky and imagines the lives of the people on board. The smiles and giggles, the strength of my workpartners, the sassy jokes, the starlit nights, the amount of goats that have invaded my hut- they are all endless. And thank Allah for that! Here’s to another year of those little but endless moments that make me stronger, that bring me smiles, that keep me going. 

My mom Oumy and I on Tabaski

 

getting my prayer on with my good friends and workpartners Nalin and Hawa

   
As always- thanks for reading and thanks for all of the support from home! Sending much love