A Walk In The Rain

We awoke to the soft and gentle sound of rain. The placid sky leaked cool droplets, quenching the sandy soil. This promised us a reprieve from the heat that assailed us over the previous days. It was the final day of our trek and we ventured out into the misty marshes without hesitation or concern over the threat of stormy weather.

The trek entailed slogging through mud and dashing around slippery embankments. Thorny branches clawed at our arms and nagged at our belongings, tucked away in our packs. One false step would result in a certain faceplate into the mud. Sure footing was difficult to come by, and made every step a gamble.

Each movement was overshadowed by the continual barrage of rain. After an hour of marching around thickets of mangroves, my clothes were completely drenched with water. My shoes were soaked, and made a funny squishing sound with every step I took. The rain somehow managed to seep through every seam of my pack cover, permeating the contents. Every inch of my body was soaked by rain, and everything I carried, soon became swamped as well, but there was something very magical about this state of being. 

There was no way to escape the rain and water, but I felt absolutely no desire to do so. I felt utterly content. The entire experience was very liberating, I didn’t worry about how wet everything was or how muddy and gross my shoes were. I was at peace with the wild, at home in the rain and completely free. I felt like throwing down my back, tearing off my shoes and frolicking in the torrents of rain. 

Group Service in Ndioukhane

Working with the youth of Ndioukhane has been a marvelous learning experience. We were challenged first with forming our plan of action. We had no idea what the week was supposed to be like for the students or for us. The village was extremely accepting of our presence, but it wasn’t clear exactly what we were supposed to do.

Our goal for the students was for them to have a fun and educational week. The first day of activities provided a fantastic starting block for the adapting program. The lessons we learned from the first day were a wonderful source of new ideas and methods, which we were able to implement in subsequent days. Once the students were divided by age, our lesson plans became far more effective. From singing and dancing to lively songs, to learning and writing new vocabulary, our days were filled with laughing, smiles and fun. 

The community displayed their benevolent hospitality throughout the duration of our stay. Everyone was excited to greet us and test our Wolof vocabulary. As if learning both French and Wolof and the same time wasn’t hard enough, the natives of Ndioukhane are a mix of both Serer and Pular speaking families. My hurried morning walks to the wanag, (toilet) provided a time for me to meet all sorts of exciting locals. I did, of course, prefer the return journey as a time to converse and engage in more lengthy conversations. 

     

I experienced the culmination of Ndioukhane hospitality during my brief home stay with a local family. I was fed three full means in the time it takes to properly digest half of one. Never the less, I arose to the challenge in full appreciation of their generosity. I wasn't too surprised by the second lunch I was fed, but on my return from the wanag, a group of boys beckoned for me to join them for their meal. I was immediately offered a spoon and a place to sit, so as to best attack their platter of food. I ate my fill, again... then left the boys with smiles on their faces and food in their bellies. 

Spending our last night with home stays was a fantastic way to finish off the week. Many of the nearby children recognized me from school, some were even my students! I was given the Senegalese name of Makura, which spread through the village like wildfire. 

This week has been a marvelous introduction to community service in Senegal. We caught a glimpse into the education system by working directly with the village youth. I certainly learned a great dal about my own strengths and weaknesses. I saw how others managed a classroom, and was able to compare that to my own relative successes and shortfalls. Seeing the excitement of the children each day was by far the most rewarding aspect of our week in Ndioukhane. Also the fact that many of our lessons and activities were retained by the students, gives us hope that we truly did make a positive impact on this village. 

Photo Update from Ndioukhane

Village children walking to the well, on their way to fetch a pail of water.

Preparing breakfast in the morning shade, my host family is eager to have their pictures taken!

A lonely scavenger searches for fallen leftovers. 

As the heat of the day slowly died away, rising clouds blew in spectacular storms. Fierce winds, heavy rain, and a brilliant display of lighting. 

The Mango Tree

Why do we love? Is it because what we love is always there for us? Because this beloved thing provides some necessity, a comfort or perhaps something we cannot fathom life without? During the past week in Ndioukhane, I have come to love the mango tree, for all these reasons.

In the sweltering afternoon heat, we took refuge under the branches of the mango tree. It’s foliage protected us from the sun’s piercing rays and offered us a safe place to rest our tired bodies. After a morning of teaching and playing with village children, the welcoming branches of the magnificent mango, extended to us their nurturing embrace. Not only did the mango provide us with a shady space for recuperation, it also produces vital sustenance for the weary body. 

The sweet, juicy flesh of a perfectly ripe mango is the ideal snack for any occasion. I bite down, and it’s succulent freshness gushes into every part of my mouth. Flavor explodes, and tremors of happiness and delight reverberate through my body. The entire experience of feasting on this delectable fruit, leaves my body feeling invigorated and refreshed. The perfect snack from the perfect tree.

Afternoon Hospitality

Our first week in Senegal was a blur of new sights, smells and sensations. The sandy streets of Yoff are crowded with friendly people. The calls to prayer from the nearby mosque last for hours, filling the air with the peaceful sounds of worship. The salty coastal breeze, blows around the distinct oder of fish, in all stages of decomposition. 

After a few short days in Yoff, we traveled to the small village of Joal. Most of our time was spent developing our Wolof skills and starting to tackle French. The highlight of my time though, was my day-stay in the neighboring village of Fadouith. I spent the afternoon with Alphonse, a 19 year old native of the village, who was studying at the university in Dakar. He was so friendly, showing me around the village and introducing me to his friends and family. After satisfying our appetite, we sat down for some tea.

Drinking ataya is a Senegalese tradition. The tea is usually consumed in three stages, with the cups of tea growing progressively sweeter. By the third cup, the tea is loaded with copious amounts of sugar, making it a delicious afternoon beverage. I watched in awe as the tea was pored back and fourth between two cups, giving it a frothy top. This was the finishing touch, added just before each glass was enjoyed. 

One might guess that drinking three small cups of tea couldn't take more than a few minutes, but in fact this can be a quite lengthy process. We spent three hours that sweltering afternoon, sipping down our ataya. Instead of worrying about what was planned next, or rushing on to something new, we simply sat and enjoyed each others company. I caught a glimpse into the Senegalese perspective of time, got a chance to relax with some locals and enjoy their hospitality.

Me and Alphonse after our afternoon ataya! 

Our new tailored outfits!