Returning and Losing

Reflecting lately I've been struck by how many things I've brought back with me from Dakar that are useless to me here. So many experiences and skills are so specific to Senegal that I'm having trouble finding a way to enjoy their expression or use in my new context. What's more is I'm finding some of the habits I developed while in Senegal fit strangely back where I'm "from". That's the problem with traveling so much, you begin to feel homeless and misunderstood wherever you go.

Even if you can't appreciate them fully, there are hundreds of things, so many that I can't count or even name them, that I learned either proactively or naturally through living in Senegal that are slipping away now. It's as simple as knowing how to cross the street or knowing the different coins in my pocket. It's the fun of bargaining for a taxi, growing relationships with local shop owners, and knowing how to cut a mango. It's the new vocabulary each day and reveling privately at my first use of a word or phrase. It's feeling comfortable in the sand, with the 5 am call to prayer, and no longer having to be reminded to find and greet every family member when I get home. It's knowing your host family enough to serve drinks to guests, and joke, sing, and dance together. It's the deepening of an appreciation and comfort in a culture rooted in the history and reality of a place.

I tried and never succeeded to get a good picture of the cityscape of Dakar. The city, which struck me as sandy and full of unfinished, whitewashed structures when I arrived, became so beautiful to me throughout my stay. I was surprised by how comfortable I felt by the time I left.


This picture is from the Dakar Paris blog.

And if you're interested the things that struck me as strange upon my return to America: the greenness, brand name clothing, lack of formalities, and conversation topics and flow (Someone debate something insignificant with me, please, for fun? Is Nutella hazelnut-based with chocolate or chocolate-based with hazelnut? This was the subject of a long, surprisingly enjoyable debate with my family in Dakar).

Storyless

I just finished reading a book about “story”. It talked all about how stories are important and humans love stories more than anything else and we must place ourselves in a good story to have a good life. This was rather depressing for me since I’ve realized that I cannot tell good stories in French. My host family likes me well enough, but 90% of what they know about me comes from what I do, not what I say.

On top of that, all of my stories are rooted in my own culture. We all know that in stories, setting the context is the most important thing. Well, it’s practically impossible to do. And without knowing the context, and what my culture values, and how my cultures sees people, my family can’t grasp the real meaning of my stories. And I don’t get most of their stories either, to be honest.

The best form of stories is comedy. However, my sense of humor has been reduced almost exclusively to making fun of myself, which gets old after about a day. I only get to belly-laugh when I’m talking with my real family or my American friends here.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve given up, and my family here won’t really know me, and I will live as a semi-human here because I can’t communicate and participate in life fully. It feels like after 3 months that my family should know me and everything should be peachy-keen. But adjusting to living in another cultures takes a lifetime and is really never complete. So I have to stay humble, because my French is still bad, I still don’t wash my laundry very well, and I still am lost when it comes to Senegalese culture sometimes. And even if I did understand, parts of my stories and myself that are American could never be fulfilled here because they require the American context.

Stories are the way we connect to one another. Heck, all forms of communication and language were created because we live in this world with other people who we want to know and love and hug. So I am missing out, in a way, by not being able to story with my family here. But having a shared life together and shared experiences does make up for my muteness in some cases. My family knows that I like to eat, which is a good start. My personality comes out through my actions, as does theirs.

So we are building our own new story together. It’s a strange story that is usually awkward and sometimes has to be repeated many times to be understood, but it is still meaningful. It just doesn’t flow as naturally and the plot turns aren’t as obvious as they would be in a quality American film. But I’m trying to believe that my Senegalese story is still worth living in and participating in, even if I’m tongue-tied half the time and don’t feel like my American self.

Week 2 Blues

Well folks, it’s time to take off the rose-colored glasses. I am living in Senegal, not in Disney World. And just like anywhere else in the world, there’s junk I gotta do and people that I gotta deal with.

I started feeling a little whiny yesterday, while I was on an island, on the beach, when it was 80 degrees and sunny. I figured that my current circumstances could not possibly be causing my state of mind. Instead, I realized that I’ve hit the wall in terms of being excited about the newness of life here. In other words, I don’t feel like washing my own underwear is an adventure anymore.

It’s a tease, really, because I’ve figured out life and French enough to live here and do okay. But I also know now how far I have to go. I’ve been in the culture enough to not offend someone’s socks off. But I also know that I don’t fit in. And I’ve gotten to know the people in my program enough to get along, but also just enough to know what might bother me about them eventually, or immediately (not talking about you C&C!).

Last year in Kenya it took me half the trip to readjust expectations. Here it might take some time, but at least I’ve started this early. It’s so hard to know what you’re up against when going abroad, so readjusting expectations is a daily ritual. C’est la vie. I can finally say that and not feel corny, being in a francophone country. I just try to remember that I am me no matter where I am and life isn’t so drastically different that I’m a fish gasping for air. The water’s just murky and the other fish act funny.

What is making me feel better at this point is that my little brother (not my real or favorite little brother, who are one and the same) has decided to improve his English by speaking to me in English all the time, while I will continue to respond in French. His accent is horrendous and he speaks slowly. At least I know someone is feeling my pain, and I his. There, they’re and their!

Today the war of the tongue twisters started. Neither woodchuck or chuck are in my dictionary. Try explaining that in French.

P Words

Why french is bad.

Puce= SIM card
Puce= Flea
Pouce=Thumb
Pouce=Inch
Pousse= Push

Pêche=Peach
Péche= he/she/one sins
Peche= he/she/one fishes

If you can come up with an equivalent list in English, I will be impressed. That should be enough incentive for you to try.

Early Departure

I find that when I travel, I usually mentally go to the place before I'm ever there. Right now, I'd say I'm about half in Senegal and half here. Meaning, almost half of the time I am thinking about, planning for, worrying or wondering about Senegal. In the other half of my life, I still have to work, do laundry, and be sad to say goodbye to people for a while.

I'm very bad at planning this time into my brain. (It's also inconvenient that it's around Christmas, which feels a lot different than summer when everyone else is leaving too.) I expect to be fully here until I step on the plan January 8 and fully in Senegal January 9. But that is definitely not the case. Really, I have become homesick before ever leaving. This happened when I went to Kenya as well. All of the sudden I'm asking, "Why am I doing this again? Why was this a good idea?"

I'm trying to remember all of the good reasons that I chose to go to Senegal while giving full emotional quality to the bad reasons. I don't want to pretend like I'm not saying goodbye to the friends that I'm leaving. On the other hand, this feeling will definitely remain while I'm in Senegal because my brain and my language is American. So I'll be there but culturally and linguistically isolated. I'm not sure when I'll feel like I've actually touched down in Dakar. I'll let you know.

I guess this is another reason to Skype!

Passport update: Still not back. Still.
Flight update: Booked but not officially booked. Not sure if I should have trusted my cheap option.