Travels and Terranga
It’s 7:33 AM in New York (26 April). My state of being: sleep deprived. I just took the overnight flight from Dakar. Rested a lot but slept maybe an hour. Typical me. Wooziness has settled in. I kind of feel like I’m tossing back and forth on gentle waves. Still two flights to go until I reach home. So close yet so far. Maybe sleep will overcome me at some point. Or, maybe I’ll bow to the marketing of Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts to stay awake.
It feels odd to be back in the United States. Not what I’d planned. I used to think plans were fairly certain. Not so with COVID-19. Flexibility is the name of the game.
When the plane landed, I pushed open my window cover. Rain. It kind of startled me. I’ve not seen a drop of precipitation from the sky since I went through New York on my way to Dakar and got caught in a snow storm. Stepping onto the jet bridge, a cold breeze struck me with surprise. Turns out it’s 49 F here. Dakar temperatures have been consistently in the 70s for weeks, so much so that I never looked up the weather. The only thing that changed from one day to the next was the breeze. A nice breeze made for a delightful afternoon walk by the water. But, without the breeze, walking in the sunshine with a mask made for a toasty and somewhat suffocating journey. Still, I went because walking is what I do; it’s one of my favorite pastimes.
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Over the past couple of months, I grew fond of Dakar. Views of the port. The beautiful weather (I can honestly say that for this time of the year). The sight of hawks circling the sky at sundown. The smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery, even though I’d only go to grab treats for my colleagues. Bougainvillea flowers blooming in all colors. In their beauty, they invite us to gaze at walls meant to keep people out. Mojito flavored sorbet. Who doesn't like the combination of lime and mint? Challenging my brain with new words in French and Wolof. The unique appearance of baobab trees. Colorful wooden pirogues. Even having sand in my shoes.
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| Bougainvilleas on Goree Island Photo Credit: Andrea Moser |
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| Fishing Community |
In addition to walks by the ocean, I wandered the city streets countless hours. Sometimes on a mission for work. Other times just to explore after a day of work.
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| Exploring a bit of Dakar |
On the streets, that's where a lot of life happens.
People
selling snacks. Selling newspapers. Selling produce. Selling phone
credit. Selling bags of water to drink. Selling crafts. Selling clothes, even
suits. Shinning shoes. Chatting together in the shade of a tree. Taking a rest in
the square.
After a few weeks of being in Dakar, certain locals recognized us and us them.
We started to greet one another in passing.
The grapefruit lady, Mme Diouf was her name, I believe. She
sits across from our apartment. We could see her from our window. In addition
to grapefruit, she sells roasted peanuts and other small snacks. One day she
said that she would like to go with us to Spain. When I explained I am from the
United States, she said that was a fine option too. In passing, we always
smiled and waved to each other. On days when she didn’t come, her presence was
missed.
Barry. He is always on the move selling sandals from a duffel bag. He walked the neighborhood multiple times a day; I only saw him sitting
once. It’s easy to spot Barry with his wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses and black
mask for COVID-19 protection. Once he bought my colleagues coconuts to drink
from a nearby stand. In the end, all of us bought a pair of sandals from him. When he finally convinced me to purchase a pair, I didn’t have the right
money with me. He didn’t mind; just told me to take the sandals and said he’d wait
for me to come back with the payment.
Omar. He’s a bit of a mystery to me. He doesn’t sell anything. Most of the time we saw him sitting outside one of the nearby hotels on a moped just making conversation with the community. Nice guy.
It’s strawberry season in Dakar. I’m not sure what this means really because I have never seen strawberries growing in Senegal. But anyway, many people are selling strawberries these days. We became friendly with one lady in particular. She has a smile that will change your attitude in a minute. When my colleague complimented her on her smile one day, she smiled even bigger, as if that was possible.
Moussa has a basic turquoise stall beneath a palm tree by the beach. It provides him with shade and a space to sell some small items. He always greets my colleague and me with a smile, one that is jovial and genuine. He doesn’t just say hello but also asks about your family, your health, your weekend etc. Maybe that friendliness is why many gravitate towards his stall. On one occasion, Moussa gifted us with Senegalese names: Salimata and Fatoumata. We felt honored.
Though I could share more, I’ll end with the women who sell
vegetables outside the supermarket in the afternoons. Their
produce is of better quality than what you can find inside the shop. Two women
in particular put their items side by side, almost to the point that you can’t
tell which produce belongs to one versus the other. They can appear quite
relaxed, chatting away with one another, but when customers arrive, they spring
into action. It’s like a competition.
Me to Seller 1: I’d like an eggplant, a bunch of
parsley
Seller 2: What about from me? Carrots, zucchini…?
Me to Seller 2: Okay, a kilogram of carrots. No zucchini. How about 2 cucumbers…
Seller 1: What about tomatoes? Do you want tomatoes?
Me to Seller 1: No tomatoes today, thank you.
Seller 2: And what else? How about peppers?
Seller 1: No tomatoes. How about potatoes?
Me to Seller 1: How much for the potatoes?
Seller 1: 500 cfa
Me to Seller 1: Okay I’ll take the bag of potatoes. And (to Seller 2), I’ll
take two peppers. That’s it.
Seller 1: Nothing else...are you sure? Maybe green beans.
Me: That's all. Maybe next time we'll get green beans. We'll be back.
My colleague, thankfully, was usually with me. She speaks French well. We always went away with more than we intended, but it never
went to waste. And, they gave us fair prices.
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| Giving our produce a bath |
I’ve been in the United States for about a week now. The day of my return, I forced myself to stay awake until 9:30 PM (eating junk food and watching a movie to make it happen). Then I slept for 11.5 hours. Cured the jet lag right away.
One day this week, I walked in the state park for 5 hours. It was a long journey but done at a very leisurely pace. Good for the soul. I saw a turtle and two snakes (almost stepped on one, non-poisonous thankfully). Listened to woodpeckers and song birds, bugs a buzzing, and the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. No headphones. Just the sounds of nature.
My parents' place has become my office once again. The only question is, where will I work? At the kitchen table, at my desk, on the floor, from the comfort of bed? Most days it's a bit of all four options. This is not what I had planned, but I'm adapting. I'm grateful. Even with the change of location, I have a job that I still like a whole lot and a nice place to stay. And Senegal, well, it will be there whenever the time is right to journey back across the Atlantic.
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| Wandering |
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You may be wondering why I am home. I could give a long explanation of facts, and that would probably be more satisfying. However, maybe facts are only a part of the story. If I really think about it, the reason I find myself back in the United States is because I trust God's timing. I definitely wasn't looking to return. I wrestled with the idea of it. There were even days of sadness and some tears too. But ultimately, I relinquished my desires and decided to change my attitude. I have experienced God's provision of perfect timing in my life before, and not just once, so ultimately I decided to trust Him in this season too. The shift in mindset was a good decision. I have more peace because of it even though I don't have all the answers. And as for being home, I already see purpose in it. Yes, there are facts, but I am here because of Him and that's perhaps the best explanation.
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| Sunset on the port road Photo Credit: Andrea Moser |
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