I have a million thoughts I’d like to blog and not enough time. This may have to be a daily routine soon. Since it’s Thursday, I thought I’d share this Statement of Purpose I had to write after I came back from Senegal through a program I participated in when I was in college. It definitely brings me back to those living conditions I may find myself in again in a few months. I believe this was back in May 2008–excuse my grammar and the ridiculous length of my essay 😉
P.S. What’s funny is how I thought I’d never go back to Africa–God definitely has other plans for me!
P.P.S. Fun fact: One of the only phrases I remember in Wolof is how to say “I love you” — Nope nah lah!
P.P.P.S? Photo Below: This, my friends, is what hair looks like after being braided and not washed for a week straight in hot, sweaty, dirty conditions hehe. I thought I was going bald at the alarming rate it was dropping when I finally showered.
GIEU (Global Intercultural Experience for Undergraduates) Statement of Purpose
I can say that I have traveled halfway around the world. But how has that changed me? From the outside, it is not very obvious. I am not walking around in Senegalese attire, speaking Wolof. However, not a day goes by that I do not feel affected by the trip. Whether it’s a random thought or action, what I experienced in Senegal will always linger in the back of my mind. Was it a life changing experience? Yes. Of course. What made it life changing is difficult to pinpoint. It is an entirely different way of life.
I wish I could have bottled up the entire experience to bring back and share with everyone. I wish they could see the beautiful view of Dakar and the Atlantic Ocean from Isle de Goree. And experience the not so relaxing parts of the trip. I wish they could have been out at the archeological site, digging and pick axing with us, sharing the deep appreciation of a break. I am pretty sure the giant tree that provided the only significant shade in the area kept me from passing out in the heat. Bread and Laughing Cow cheese were always one of the highlights on those days. And I must not leave out the excitement of finding sherds AKA pieces of pottery.
I wish they could have experienced a morning walk into Ngayene Sabakh–the sun already out, children staring, waving, following, shouting “toubab” and some trying to give handshakes, the sight of a goat leg in the sand, and walking slowly and greeting as many people in sight. If only they could meet the family I was with in the village and partake in a typical Wolof conversation or two–a lot of confusion but we learned enough to get by. Or see the look of satisfaction and delight on people’s faces when we can identify tomate, daolin, carot, yakatoo, jumbo, supermae, and other various ingredients.
I wish they were there to help cook lunch, the most important and time consuming activity of the day. We would squint and cough from the overwhelming amount of smoke in the room. Perhaps they could have assisted us in shooing away the moose, ganaar, and karak (cat, chickens, and goats) that tried to get to the food. “ACEH!”
I wish they could have eaten with us. Early afternoon–around one or two–in an empty room made of mud and brick. Baby chickens would wander in and out of the two entrances with no doors. The big bowl of food on the dirt ground in the center of the room would feed about four women and their children, Laura, and me. After settling on our wooden stools and plastic containers, we would take off the cover. I can smell it now. Whether it was teebujin or another dish, there was always that distinct smell. It would be interesting to see how my family and friends would react to the lull of the afternoons after lunch. We would sit and occasionally, we would fan each other, learn more words in Wolof, play with children, be forced to dance, and sing (was it a mistake to teach the children and adults the “Eensy Weensy Spider?”). For dinner at the field station, it was usually a toss up between beans and bread and/or cabbage and small pieces of eggs and potatoes. I don’t think I will ever forget having to split a small piece of potato with someone because we ran out.
At night at the field station, I wish everyone could experience the great satisfaction of any breeze, sit outside with me and view the flat terrain that seemed to go on and on, stare at the beautiful sky filled with stars when it wasn’t cloudy, laugh at the absurd sight of a cow a few feet away, in the middle of the dirt road, and hear the noises of donkeys that interrupted our sleep. I wish they could have stepped into the middle of Senegal with me and felt the dirt that clings on and never lets go.
I underestimated a few things before leaving—one being the effect that we would have on the people in the village. There was a lot of focus on how much we would learn about other people and another culture. However, I didn’t expect to be spending a lot of time in a village with people who have had very little or no interaction with foreigners. Not only did I acquire skills to be interculturally competent but so did the people in the village, whether they knew it or not. On the very first day in the village, I remember people repeating what they said louder and louder and closer to our faces when we did not understand what they were saying. As we continued interact, many realized that being more patient and showing, rather than repeating phrases in Wolof, was a more effective way of getting us to understand what they mean or want us to do.
I also underestimated my ability to adapt to new environments—probably because I have never been in such extreme situations before. The way I adapted was a slow and gradual process. During the first week or two, I was homesick for the first time ever in my entire life. Looking back in my journal, with the exception of a few concerns of possibly contracting malaria and possibly not having a place to stay the first night, I felt almost nothing but excitement before leaving. After getting there and attempting to interact with people on the first day, I was scared. I started to realize that I was in the middle of nowhere. If anything happened, the closest credible hospital was several hours away and we would probably get lost trying to find it. I knew no French or Wolof. I was sleeping in a stranger’s bed, with a woman breastfeeding her child a few feet away. I remember thinking, why did my parents ever agree for me to do this? Physically and mentally, it was draining. For many days, I felt sick immediately after waking up but got better after an hour or so. Compared to others, it was very minor so I did not mention anything.
As the month went on, I actually started to get more comfortable living in all of the dirt that never seemed to go away. I ate bread that looked like it was dipped in sand and drank water filled with pieces of sediment without a second thought. I almost forgot that we did not have electricity. I actually stayed in bed after a few storms caused hundreds of earwigs to start dropping down from the ceilings and literally onto everything. Not being a huge fan of seafood, I never thought I would ever touch raw fish, let alone slit nine of them, with their blood dripping down my hands. In light of all of it, I am surprised at how optimistic I am—especially when reflecting back on the trip. Sure, by the end of the month, I was beyond ready to go home but to me, it was not the most horrible experience of my life. While others might complain about the heat, the dirt, the scarceness of food, the lack of productivity, and so on, I saw it as an amazing and unique experience that many others will never get to do.
It is interesting to see how a society and culture impacts the people that live within it. This distinction was clear to me in Senegal. Although it is impossible to do, I tried my best to imagine growing up and living in that village, not knowing any other way of life. Who I am would be shaped by so many different values. Depending on the definition, people “grow up” much more quickly. I saw kids as little as three or four years old gather sticks for their mother to make fire so they can cook lunch.
Whenever people ask about the trip, I always say that although I would never go back again, I am glad that I went. It truly was an amazing learning experience. I applied to the GIEU program looking to learn more about a culture. What I got in return was way more than I had bargained for. To say that is one thing but to experience it is a whole different level. It was not only a cultural experience but also a life experience. I started this statement of purpose without knowing what direction it would take me, and I think I answered my question of how it changed me. I may have been a bit naïve before the trip and some of the situations we had to go through and the people we had to deal with have taught me many things. I am a tougher and more independent person. I want to bring this experience back to the UM campus and share it with others. Encourage people to go abroad. Although they may or may not have such a drastic change in environment as I did, it is an opportunity that people should not pass up. There is so much to be learned. About yourself. About others. Mangadem.
