I had casually mentioned to a friend that I should have my hair braided if the water was going to be off all the time. The next thing I knew he said that we would be going to visit the Gueye family, a wealthy and traditional Muslim family, who have hired help who would braid my hair. Visiting the elite of Senegal is a true experience. First of all, this house is about the size of a Senegalese apartment building. It has 3 levels, one for the eldest son (age 28)and his wife, one for the father and mother and the younger chidren, and one for the second son (age 26). The house also has space for 2 cars, and even a sand pit for the second son to practice broad jump. It's a Senegalese mansion, with the finest amenities that include; sliding panels on the balcony doors, two layers of curtains (one sheer and one opaque), and bowls specifically designed to drain the dirty water from the bowl as one washes his or her hands for meals or prayer. Please keep in mind that all of the other houses I have visited here have had a whole in the floor as a toilet, so this house seemed especially grand on a hot Senegalese day.
My friend explained to me that the family would offer me a lot of different things, and I would be expected to take something as a sign of thanks and respect. So with nervous anticipation, I rang the door bell at the Gueye mansion. A tired young woman hurried to open the gate, at the order of some loud and distant supreme being. She looked at me and sighed, as if my presence meant more work for her. I walked up to the second floor where I was greeted by 7 women, 4 family members and 3 hired workers. Immediately, I was pulled inside and passed around the family members for the traditional greeting. Then, before I could take my seat I was offered bread, butter, chocolate, water, and Senegalese tea. I accepted some water, took my seat, and watched as the hired women scurried from room to room cleaning everything from floor to ceiling. It was quite obvious who was in charge of this place; the older woman covered from head to toe in patterned, white garments continued to bark orders as the rest of the family members half-heartedly watched an Indian soap opera and drank small cups of dark green tea. Soon, a tall, thin woman with very dark circles under her eyes, pointed me to a chair outside on the balcony, where she would braid my hair. All the women gathered around, taking turns running their fingers through my hair (which much to my dismay, had not been washed in 4 days), making comments, and nodding their heads in agreement with one another. The woman started the braiding process, and I soon began to fear that my head was going to split wide open if she continued to do what she was doing. As the hours passed, the women would come out to the balcony, approve the progress, and then go back to their soap opera. After she was finished, and I was sure my head was going to explode, all of the women crowded around saying different things in Wolof and finally one of them looked at me, "C'est tres jolie!" (It's very nice).
Another hour passed and the tired woman, who opened the gate, soon returned with lunch. Mats and blankets were spread on the balcony and short seats were handed out. We gathered around a large bowl of Senegalese rice garnished with a few vegetables. A car pulled into the garage, and all the women jumped up and began clearing an area in the corner of the balcony. The hired woman brought a separate bowl of rice and a large bottle of cold lard just in time for an older man to walk onto the balcony. He looked at me, nodded, said "Bon appetite", and sat down to his food. After we had eaten, I was told to go with my friend and the second son down to the first floor, where we could watch a large television. Before I could leave I had to tell the father of the house that my food was good and that I was full.
Then, the three of us sat in a large Americanized living room. The second son brought in an Arabic Coca-Cola (which tastes different from other Senegalese coke) and poured it over crushed ice. The son looked at me and said in a heavy Wolof accent, "You like Phil Collins?" And even though I would never listen to Phil Collins in the U.S., I told him that I love Phil Collins. So there we sat, sipping iced Coca-Cola and listening to Phil Collins, under a ceiling fan that looked like it came from my own living room, and then the power cut off. That's when I was reminded that this was Senegal, and no matter who you are you can't escape the boundaries of your location. As much money as this family had, they could not call someone in charge and tell them to turn the power back on so their American guest could feel at home. The fourth call to prayer rang out, the second son left to pray, and I wondered how I could have ever forgotten that this was Senegal.
Gorou
This is a very special village. I love how the light runs across the flat dry plains.
Showing posts with label Trip 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trip 2. Show all posts
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Giving
I talk about volunteering and service all the time. It's my life. The Youth and Young Adult Coordinator asked me to talk about service and giving to the youth on Saturday (tomorrow), and it wasn't until I started working on it that I realized how difficult it was going to be. I had no idea how to say "freely give of your time and money" to a group of people who have nothing. Times are harder in Senegal than ever before. The people are going to work and not receiving any money, yet on Sunday mornings when the offering time comes, they all give. I watch them dig around in their pockets for even one coin, even 100 CFA, which is 20 cents. And they want me to teach them about giving? They're teaching me about giving. They've taught me that you give when you have nothing to give. According to the Senegalese, you find something to give to God, because he has given us everything. That's not a new concept, 2 Corinthians 9:7-8 says, "Each of you must make up your own mind about how much to give. But don’t feel sorry that you must give and don’t feel that you are forced to give. God loves people who love to give. God will bless you with more than enough to do all kinds of good things for others.” It's written there for us, plain and simple. You find something to give because God has given you everything and he will continue to "bless you with more than enough." You may say, "But Anna, times are hard. I can barely pay the bills, and prices on everything are increasing everyday." Let me tell you, my friend, you haven't seen hard times unless you've been in a developing country recently. God has given you more than enough, and now it's your turn to give it away. People need you. I see people everyday on the streets and in the churches who are looking to me for help, and now I'm looking to you. We all have something to give, no matter the amount. I pray that you find what you can give and give it.
According to Matthew 5:14-16, "You are like light for the whole world. A city built on top of a hill cannot be hidden, and no one would light a lamp and put it under a clay pot. A lamp is placed on a lampstand, where it can give light to everyone in the house. Make your light shine, so that others will see the good that you do and will praise your Father in heaven." My friends, you are the light in this dark world, now shine so that everyone will praise your God.
To help the people of Senegal today, your gift can be sent to Jacki Goode (my mother), who will then put it into my Senegalese bank account, so that I can give it while I'm here. If you need the address, let me know. If you want to give to a specific church/program/person, that can be arranged. If you want to give to the church of Senegal regularly, that can be done through The Advance of the United Methodist Church.
Thank you to all of those who have already given, God will truly bless you for the love that you have shown to his people.
According to Matthew 5:14-16, "You are like light for the whole world. A city built on top of a hill cannot be hidden, and no one would light a lamp and put it under a clay pot. A lamp is placed on a lampstand, where it can give light to everyone in the house. Make your light shine, so that others will see the good that you do and will praise your Father in heaven." My friends, you are the light in this dark world, now shine so that everyone will praise your God.
To help the people of Senegal today, your gift can be sent to Jacki Goode (my mother), who will then put it into my Senegalese bank account, so that I can give it while I'm here. If you need the address, let me know. If you want to give to a specific church/program/person, that can be arranged. If you want to give to the church of Senegal regularly, that can be done through The Advance of the United Methodist Church.
Thank you to all of those who have already given, God will truly bless you for the love that you have shown to his people.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Thiés
I decided early in the week that I would leave Dakar on Sunday after church and stay the night in Thiés (pronounced "chez"), which is supposed to be one hour from Dakar.
At 2 PM on Sunday, I left the church with Joél and Edouard, two United Methodist young adults, who I knew could get me to Thiés and back all in one piece. We headed for a "bus station," where a bunch of buses park and men come running at you to point you to their bus even if they aren't going to your destination. After finding a bus to our preferred location, we climbed in (which is a task by itself) and noticed that only a few people were on the bus. You see, that bus wasn't going anywhere until it was full, and even then we would stop along the way to make sure we couldn't cram more people on it. We sat on the bus until 2:30, and no one had joined the group. We decided, much to the driver's dismay, that we might try a different station. We then boarded a caripede, or speed car, which one often sees with more people on top of it than it actually seats inside. By 3 PM we were at the next bus station and making a deal with a man whose car seats seven passengers. It was just the three of us, but the driver motioned that we could go ahead to Thiés. Subsequently, we stopped at every small clump of people on the roadside to yell "Thiés! Thiés! Thiés!" out the window, in hopes that someone would decide in that moment that Thiés might be nice on a Sunday afternoon. By 4 PM we had picked up the remaining four passengers, one of which had a terrible twitch that kept hitting my arm. When we closed in on Thiés, at nearly 5 PM, everyone began to pay the driver. Because I was sitting in the middle seat of the middle row, I was in charge of passing money to the driver and the change back to the corresponding passenger. I handed some change over my shoulder and the woman took it. Little did I know that it did not belong to that woman. The remainder of the trip was spent with the man yelling at the woman to return the change. The "Welcome to Thiés" sign could have easily read "Welcome to the End of the Earth", and I would have gladly gotten out of that car.
By 6 PM, we were sitting the house of Edouard's sister, Grace, who is an active member of the United Methodist Young Women's group in Thiés. The final call to prayer rang out from the nearest mosque, and in that moment everything went still. I felt comforted, somehow, that all over Senegal millions of people were praying to the God of Abraham. And it reminded me to say a prayer myself.
After dinner, Grace said she had some problems that she wanted to discuss with me. She talked about the lack of material for children, the small churches, and the low salary of the pastors. In all that she said something stuck with me. She told me that the church members are told to evangelize, get the word out about Jesus. She said, "How do I go to my neighbor and say look what Jesus does for me, when they can see in my face that I am hungry, and see in my eyes that I am worried about the future of the children?" Grace continued on, saying that a church that doesn't take care of its people will never grow. I've never thought that the United Methodist Church didn't take care of its people. It's always taken care of me. Here in Senegal, it seems to be different. The money just isn't there, something gets lost in translation, and somehow the United Methodist Church of America and the United Methodist Church of developing countries has become two different churches. There are United Methodist churches all over the United States sitting on money because they might want a new parking lot, when our brothers and sisters in the church are hungry and can’t afford to send their children to school.
The road to Thiés was long, but it was worth it just to hear the passion in Grace’s voice, a passion I’ve yet to find in the good ol’ U S of A.
At 2 PM on Sunday, I left the church with Joél and Edouard, two United Methodist young adults, who I knew could get me to Thiés and back all in one piece. We headed for a "bus station," where a bunch of buses park and men come running at you to point you to their bus even if they aren't going to your destination. After finding a bus to our preferred location, we climbed in (which is a task by itself) and noticed that only a few people were on the bus. You see, that bus wasn't going anywhere until it was full, and even then we would stop along the way to make sure we couldn't cram more people on it. We sat on the bus until 2:30, and no one had joined the group. We decided, much to the driver's dismay, that we might try a different station. We then boarded a caripede, or speed car, which one often sees with more people on top of it than it actually seats inside. By 3 PM we were at the next bus station and making a deal with a man whose car seats seven passengers. It was just the three of us, but the driver motioned that we could go ahead to Thiés. Subsequently, we stopped at every small clump of people on the roadside to yell "Thiés! Thiés! Thiés!" out the window, in hopes that someone would decide in that moment that Thiés might be nice on a Sunday afternoon. By 4 PM we had picked up the remaining four passengers, one of which had a terrible twitch that kept hitting my arm. When we closed in on Thiés, at nearly 5 PM, everyone began to pay the driver. Because I was sitting in the middle seat of the middle row, I was in charge of passing money to the driver and the change back to the corresponding passenger. I handed some change over my shoulder and the woman took it. Little did I know that it did not belong to that woman. The remainder of the trip was spent with the man yelling at the woman to return the change. The "Welcome to Thiés" sign could have easily read "Welcome to the End of the Earth", and I would have gladly gotten out of that car.
By 6 PM, we were sitting the house of Edouard's sister, Grace, who is an active member of the United Methodist Young Women's group in Thiés. The final call to prayer rang out from the nearest mosque, and in that moment everything went still. I felt comforted, somehow, that all over Senegal millions of people were praying to the God of Abraham. And it reminded me to say a prayer myself.
After dinner, Grace said she had some problems that she wanted to discuss with me. She talked about the lack of material for children, the small churches, and the low salary of the pastors. In all that she said something stuck with me. She told me that the church members are told to evangelize, get the word out about Jesus. She said, "How do I go to my neighbor and say look what Jesus does for me, when they can see in my face that I am hungry, and see in my eyes that I am worried about the future of the children?" Grace continued on, saying that a church that doesn't take care of its people will never grow. I've never thought that the United Methodist Church didn't take care of its people. It's always taken care of me. Here in Senegal, it seems to be different. The money just isn't there, something gets lost in translation, and somehow the United Methodist Church of America and the United Methodist Church of developing countries has become two different churches. There are United Methodist churches all over the United States sitting on money because they might want a new parking lot, when our brothers and sisters in the church are hungry and can’t afford to send their children to school.
The road to Thiés was long, but it was worth it just to hear the passion in Grace’s voice, a passion I’ve yet to find in the good ol’ U S of A.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Super Quick Update
I know I haven't posted since I've been here, but the power has been of 90% of the time. I wanted to give you a quick update while I have power, and before it goes off again.
Everything is going really well. I have a lot of work to do. Between writing the website and going to all of the youth and young adult events, I'm going to be really busy. While I've been here I've seen more/been more places/experienced more than I did last time. My first day I went to see a village well in a village past Thiadiaye. The people performed a traditional dance to show thanks for the "gift of life" aka water. I visited Goree Island, where Africans were held, processed, and shipped for the slave trade. I've posted pictures on facebook of everything so far.
Please keep praying for me, and keep praying for Senegal.
Everything is going really well. I have a lot of work to do. Between writing the website and going to all of the youth and young adult events, I'm going to be really busy. While I've been here I've seen more/been more places/experienced more than I did last time. My first day I went to see a village well in a village past Thiadiaye. The people performed a traditional dance to show thanks for the "gift of life" aka water. I visited Goree Island, where Africans were held, processed, and shipped for the slave trade. I've posted pictures on facebook of everything so far.
Please keep praying for me, and keep praying for Senegal.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tetris
I hate tetris. I hate how all of those little pieces get piled up and misplaced if you look away for two seconds. When I'm actually paying attention to the game I get panicked when a new piece appears. I shuffle it around, looking for the perfect fit, and move it all over the screen until I finally place it. Then it's too late to change my mind. Sound familiar? It strangely sounds a lot like life.
As most of you know, my upcoming trip to Senegal has been the light at the end of a seemingly never ending tunnel. I have taken the semester off from Birmingham-Southern in order to find some form of fulfillment, or put the right pieces in the right places. The idea of returning to Senegal has been in my mind since I left there last August. It was not until recently that I saw the pieces actually coming together. I shuffled the trip around my calendar, moving it from January to March to May and back to March. I wanted it to be the perfect timing, so that I wouldn't miss any important events both in Senegal and Birmingham. Then, I started to panic as the deadlines drew nearer and I still didn't have things where I wanted them. Moving it from time to time, I finally placed it, smack in the middle of everything.
There's no need to panic as those pieces begin falling from the top of the screen, because in the end everything stacks up, one way or another. People said it wasn't feasible. "You can't just take a semester off to go traipsing across the world, Anna." Oh, really? We'll see about that. I'm not saying that I've got it all figured out, but I am saying that I'm heading in the right direction, and I'm putting the pieces where I feel they fit best.
A good man once wrote, "By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. " - Philippians 3:13-14
I've taken the semester off. I'm not graduating at the planned time. I'm missing some great friends. However, I am spending 6 weeks in a United Methodist mission in Dakar, Senegal, and I think that's well worth all of the panic and misgivings.
As most of you know, my upcoming trip to Senegal has been the light at the end of a seemingly never ending tunnel. I have taken the semester off from Birmingham-Southern in order to find some form of fulfillment, or put the right pieces in the right places. The idea of returning to Senegal has been in my mind since I left there last August. It was not until recently that I saw the pieces actually coming together. I shuffled the trip around my calendar, moving it from January to March to May and back to March. I wanted it to be the perfect timing, so that I wouldn't miss any important events both in Senegal and Birmingham. Then, I started to panic as the deadlines drew nearer and I still didn't have things where I wanted them. Moving it from time to time, I finally placed it, smack in the middle of everything.
There's no need to panic as those pieces begin falling from the top of the screen, because in the end everything stacks up, one way or another. People said it wasn't feasible. "You can't just take a semester off to go traipsing across the world, Anna." Oh, really? We'll see about that. I'm not saying that I've got it all figured out, but I am saying that I'm heading in the right direction, and I'm putting the pieces where I feel they fit best.
A good man once wrote, "By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. " - Philippians 3:13-14
I've taken the semester off. I'm not graduating at the planned time. I'm missing some great friends. However, I am spending 6 weeks in a United Methodist mission in Dakar, Senegal, and I think that's well worth all of the panic and misgivings.
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