Friday, November 14, 2014

From Home to Home


bean harvest - the most wonderful time of the year
I recently went on a 10,000 mile journey: I left my Senegalese home to visit my American one! While in the United States, I ate myself silly, luxuriated in bathtubs, and, of course, spent precious time with my stateside friends and family. It was a dizzying time of freedom and choices - like do I want hot or cold water to come out of this sink? (?!?!?) Overall it was incredibly relaxing and energizing. It also brought to light the gaps in knowledge that people have about my life as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

mom making dinner, looking angry
Allow me to explain my life in a nutshell. I am a Peace Corps Volunteer, which means I’ve dedicated 26 months of my life to service in a country outside the United States. As of now, I have only about five months remaining. (!!!) I’ve spent the past 21 months in a Wolof village (population: 350) in rural Senegal, West Africa. My technical work involves health education but I consider my most important job that of a sort of cultural broker. I speak a language called Wolof all day, every single day. I wear West African clothing, I celebrate Senegalese holidays, I exchange Muslim greetings, and I eat Wolof food.

nature walk
Prior to my trip to the states, I often lamented how little my host family understands about the US. (Host mom: “Do you have ice in America? Charettes? Watermelons?”) At this point I feel very close to my host family, especially my moms, and I think if they understood the first 23 years of my life, I would make a lot more sense to them. I want the cultural exchange to go both ways, but just talking to them about life in the US is nothing compared to the experience I’m getting living life in Senegal. Also, it’s hard to diplomatically explain that everyone I know in the US has electricity and ice (and cars and roads, etc) without making us sound like a bunch of super privileged jerks.  
that one time my cat caught and ate a squirrel

It was a bit jarring to realize upon my arrival in the states that American people know just as little about Senegal (“Where is that again?”) and virtually nothing about village life (“Why don’t they speak English?”). I guess I had forgotten how little I knew before I came. I realized that just because Americans have the internet at hand at every second of every day doesn’t mean they are or should be experts on Senegal. Then I realized I was suddenly tasked with the job of explaining an entire culture in sixty seconds or less and I might as well explain it in Wolof if that was all the time I got.

it rained finally! peanuts ready for harvest.
That’s how I found myself, even while sitting in front of a plate of eggs benedict and a bloody mary, feeling discontent. I felt like a cultural orphan, not quite fitting in in Senegal but not quite belonging in the US either. Fast forward to my overdue, triumphant return back to village in which mobs of people crushed me with and in their happiness. Finally I understood that my Peace Corps dream was and is being realized because now I have two countries, two homes, four mothers, and five more months to enjoy my village.
triumphs abound!!!

When my (American) father used to edit my high school essays, he critiqued me for my tendency to go over the top in the concluding paragraph. I tended to insert some grandiose optimistic statements to end the writing on an unnaturally high note. Well, dad, this post proves that old habit die hard. And if Peace Corps isn’t a time for you to turn your struggles into triumphs, I don’t know what is.