My trip to Dakar....who would've known a Canadian couldn't speak French?!

May 13, 2009

Why hello all. Or maybe I should say, “Bonjour!” I just got back from Senegal and there is one thing (well I’m going to tell you many things) but there is one thing for sure that I will say about my trip to the French country….I’ve never felt more handicapped not knowing enough French to get around. Wow. I didn’t realize what it would be like and for the first time in my life, I realized how handicapped I have made myself by forgetting my French since High School.
The week leading up to our departure (which was Friday, May 8, 2009) I had remembered that Father was planning a trip to Dakar, Senegal for a Anniversary of a few priests that he knows. He had mentioned it to me a few weeks back and asked that if I had time to go that I should go and see Senegal. The week was busy and I wasn’t sure if the time would allow me to go so I didn’t really say much to the sisters. I just said, “Lord, if there’s a good reason for me to go, then help me to see it so I can go.” The sisters have been saying that I should go when I have some time, just to look around and see Senegal since the Gambia and Senegal have a lot of history together. I wasn’t sure if I should go since I didn’t know anyone and I wasn’t sure that Father would have the time to show me around either. There’s nothing like being in a foreign country, not being able to speak the language and not knowing how to do anything or where anything is. So this was my thought. On Wednesday Sister Odile mentioned to the sisters that she was going to go and visit one of the sisters who has been very sick and is in the hospital in Dakar. Since Father was going, it was a good excuse to hop in the car and go. Later in the day, Sr. Odile called me into her office to see if I liked the idea of maybe tagging along and seeing Dakar, and I of course said, “sure I would love to!” I in some small way knew that the Lord had set it up since I had been praying for the opportunity to go, if it was meant to be. So on Friday after mass in the morning, Father came to pick us up at the house and we were off on our way to Dakar. I stopped in Dakar on my way to the Gambia but I only saw the airport and I hadn’t the slightest idea what I really had missed not going outside the airport doors. If you look on the map, you see that Dakar is only a hop, skip and a jump from Banjul (which is only a 30-40 minute drive from Brikama) but honestly what looks like it will take you 2 hours to get to, takes a good 6 – 7 hour drive depending on the traffic. Seriously, I’ve never seen more African country than I wanted to before but I sure got my fill on this trip. Haha… The thing that makes the trip so long is number 1: the winding road, you think you’re going all the way to Egypt before you turn back and hit the west coast again. Number 2: the bad roads. I thought I saw bad roads in the Gambia…..hahah…this road was absolutely ridiculous. It was like driving on highway 11 but having to drive about 30 kph because you have to swerve and hit potholes. It’s not just one here and there, it’s continuous for about a good 20 miles. And number 3: the traffic when you get close to Dakar. It’s bumper to bumper when you hit the wrong time. I’ll explain later, back to the beginning of our journey….
When we left the house, I sat in the back of father’s little jeep and Sister sat in the front since I knew that I would probably sleep or read. We traveled to Serrekunda where we stopped at GPI (Gambia Pastoral Institute), which is the place where all the Christian organizations broadcast their programs on tv or radio, through newsletters, etc. I hadn’t been to see the GPI grounds since I’ve been here and I had always heard about it since the sisters deliver eggs there once in a while. So when we stopped, I thought that Father just had to pick something up but what I didn’t realized was that we were actually picking someone else up to come with us to Dakar. As we were waiting, Father showed me around the grounds. When we first got to GPI, we went into the main office where they have a little gift shop where you can buy things like bibles and books, etc and then across the yard from there is the studio. I’ve been reading Mother Angelica’s book and hearing about here little studio in the convent reminded me of this little studio. It sure looks bigger on tv, but it’s actually quite small. We first went in to the sound room where there were some people doing some work on editing some film. One of the guys’ was John, whom I later realized was the guy coming along with us to Dakar. We went into the studio room which had a small little set and a table with microphones where the radio shows are taped. Father showed me a few offices and I met a few of the priests and sisters that I hadn’t yet met. In the corner of the compound there a two really big apartment looking buildings and Father described them as places for missionaries, or volunteers to stay when they come to work with Catholic mission, or GPI. When we went in to look at them one block was “new” and the other was “old”. The rooms were all different because I guess how it works, is that it’s like a hotel system. You stay but there is a maid who cleans and takes care of the place. Some rooms are single with bathrooms and sinks, others are double beds for maybe a married couple with their own bathroom and sitting area and others are single rooms without a bathroom since there is a common one just down the hallway. The rooms are all very nice and I would imagine since it can be kind of pricey if you stay for a long period of time. Father said that it’s mainly rented out by people who have retreats or groups since there is a conference hall that is available. The last thing we looked at was the chapel which was very similar to the one at Shalom, minus the lighthouse tabernacle and it was a bit bigger. Once Father was done with the tour we waited a bit more for John to finish what he was doing and then we were off.
Our next stop was Banjul at the ferry. We drove through the winding streets and eventually came to a very busy area of Banjul. I was confused as to where we were. One thing to know about Banjul is that it is a business city. There are not many people who actually live in Banjul, since for the most part all the buildings are for businesses. It’s really interesting to see but it makes sense because most people live outside of the city and travel every day. We pulled up to this line of gates and there were tons of cars and people and a very stern looking security guard looking straight back at us. Father was speaking in a native language so I didn’t understand what was going on until after but all of a sudden a gentleman in a vehicle pulled up and we were let through the gate. It all turns out that when we got to the gate, Father (since he is VERY well known usually gets pushed to the front of the line) but since he didn’t know the stern guard there was no way we were going to get through before anyone else. Since Friday was a Muslim prayer evening there were many many people waiting to get on the ferry so the line up was extremely long. Father said that we would’ve had to wait for a good 5 hours if not more. But just as we were backing the car up a gentleman came up beside us (like an Angel from heaven….honestly. Even Father said that) and since Father knew him very well we got pushed through to the front of the line and we didn’t have to wait the 5 or so hours to get on the ferry. How amazing is that?! Thank the Lord. When we got through the gate we parked and honestly I’ve never seen such a mass amount of people. I thought the market was busy. We got out to go and buy our tickets and then sister and I sat back in the car. As we were sitting in the car I just watched people and I can say that I’ve gotten quite used to “people watching” as well as being the one watched. There were people selling anything you can think of. It’s cashew season so there were tons of cashews being sold. I guess there is a place where all the people who didn’t drive cars are supposed to go so that when they let the cars on, it’s not hectic trying to weave around people. So when we got on the ferry, they had already let the gate for the people open and it was like mass ciaos. We parked on the ferry and all of a sudden Sr. Odile and I felt this bump on the car. John was standing outside of the car and Father was standing a far ways away watching as someone stalled right into the back of Father’s vehicle. Nothing serious happened which was good. There were people everywhere and since the cars were so tightly packed, most people had to climb on vehicles if they wanted to move around. I’m not normally claustrophobic but I could’ve developed it if that ride was all the way to Dakar. Father stood outside against the railing since I think he’s not fond of boats and water, John stood outside of the car getting fresh air and Sr. Odile and I sat inside making sandwiches for everyone to eat. Sr. Odile reminds me of my mom in that way. My mom and dad always make a lunch if we are travelling so that we don’t have to stop. So when we reached the other side of the river and started moving we all ate in the car. When you hit the other side of the river, the town or village is called Barra. We took some back roads since there was construction going on and as we were driving I looked out to see a huge slew with tons of garbage in it as well as many pigs bathing in the filth. It was hilarious. We didn’t drive much farther and then we reached the border. There were so many people there and I was kind of overwhelmed since I didn’t know how things worked. We ended up taking out passports to a few offices and I was actually brought to the back since I’m not a Gambian or Senegalese. I was glad that Father or sister came with me since it was a really interesting scene. What I would compare it to would be some sort of Mexican customs office. It was an uncomfortable situation and I was glad that we didn’t stay long. When we left the offices, Father and John had to get temporary licenses to drive in Senegal and as we were waiting for them to come out of the buildings. Sr. and I went back into the vehicle. When we were sitting there waiting, I’ve never experienced something like this before….children begging. Our car was surrounded by little children begging for money. The kids looked almost homeless and they clothes were dirty and not kept nicely. Sr Odile explained to me that parents will send their children to a “marabou” (which is a teacher of the Koran) to just learn the Koran and instead of actually teaching them, the Marabou sends them out to beg for money. The money that they get is given to the Marabou and I don’t think the kids get any of it. I was wondering why I hadn’t really seen it in the Gambia but Sr. told me that the President has banned any children from begging in the streets. Honestly, that is a sight I hope to forget. It’s honestly horrible seeing these children begging for money and you know they won’t have much of a life afterward since they are getting NO education. I guess Senegal doesn’t ban children from begging, so I saw a lot of it on this trip. It was definitely worse at the border though.
We were then back on our way, John driving, Sr. Odile in the front, and Father and I in the back. It was so hot and I was glad we were getting a bit of a breeze from having the windows open. We all shared a good couple laughs and I found the trip long but enjoyable. Father is always hilarious so you know that you’re always going to have a good time with him. I slept for a few minutes in the back (which I know is rare for me, since I usually don’t seen the end of the parking lot) but there was so much to see that I couldn’t fall asleep. We drove, like I said, on the worst road I’ve ever seen and we were glad to see the end of it when it came. After the bad road, we hit kind of a desert –y area where we drove through the middle of a huge sand field. I honestly felt like I was in the desert for a little bit. The people who own that land collect salt from the land and as we drove on farther we saw mounds of sand piles. Our next stop was a village called, “Kaolack”. And as sister warned me before we left, “it’s the dirtiest place you’ve ever seen.” I completely agree. I think Father laughed at me the entire time since I think I had my mouth open for the entire trip through the village. Honestly, I don’t know how people live there! It was like people found a garbage dump and started making shops, and houses and businesses. I remember going by a place where a man was grilling something on a grill. There was garbage flying all around and I’m sure the flies were having a hay day too. I don’t think I could eat anything bought from there. Seriously….the dirtiest place I’ve ever been. I think for the most part that was the end of the real adventure until we got closer to Dakar. The towns and villages that we passed were something that you could see in a National Graphic magazine. The huts and the fences were all made with grass and it was like going through a picture. It was really neat. I have some video of it so hopefully one day I’ll show all of you.
When we arrived closer to Dakar, the traffic got heavier and so did the vendors on the streets. When we were in the traffic stopped behind cars, many people would come up trying to sell their goods to us. I was glad I was in the back since I think John and Sister had to tell people “no thanks” so many times. Either that or you just ignore them. I would’ve ignored them. Ah, it’s frustrating when you say, no thanks and people just stare back at you thinking that you’re going to change your mind. When we got into Dakar I was amazed at the development that I saw in the city. The roads reminded me of the interstate in Minneapolis and in one second I felt like I had seen a taste of home. It was dark when we finally got to the sister’s place so I didn’t see much until the following day. When we got to the house, I was greeted by all the sisters, who mostly only spoke French. Some spoke a little bit of English but I had the sense that I was going to be having a silent weekend with all that was going on. Father and John left Sr. and I and we ate a bit of supper, visited a bit and then we went to our rooms. The convent in Dakar is huge and I don’ think I even saw the whole thing! My room was on the second floor. It had two single beds, a closet and a sink of it’s own, as well as a nice breeze coming through the windows. I was glad, since it has been so hot in Brikama over the past few weeks. What I was most excited about was that Sr. Odile said that the sisters have hot water. Honestly, at that point I was so excited knowing that I hadn’t had a hot shower in so long. I just kept saying, “Lord, thank you! Thank you! This is the best gift ever.” Haha…what a stupid thing to get so excited about but it was a rewarding experience in itself. I went to bed after reading a bit of Mother Angelica’s book and I woke up at around 8:30 for breakfast. Everyone was gone and I only met with one sister who got me some breakfast. The sisters are so hospitable and I wished I could’ve spoken more French to get to know each of them a bit better. When I finished breakfast I went and got ready for the day. Sr. Odile was planning on going to spend the day at the hospital seeing the sister who was sick and my plan for the day was to try to get to “ilse Gorre” Since everyone was busy that day I was going alone and I was bit afraid knowing that I didn’t know enough French to get around. The sisters had their shopkeeper escort me to the ferry which was just down the street from the convent. Thank the Lord since I knew it would be easy to find when I got back. Pierre was his name and I was grateful since they had closed the shop just so he could bring me to the ferry and make sure I got a ticket. Both of us had a few good laughs since I spoke hardly any French and he spoke only a bit of English. He was better at it than me though. We got a ticket and he sat inside the waiting area with me. We just sat and talked and I learnt a little bit more about him. Turns out he’s from the southern part of Senegal and he’s come to Dakar for work. He seems to enjoy what he does working in the sisters little shop. He left me when people started getting on the ferry and as I was waiting in line to get through the doors a woman came up to me and started trying to be my best friend. I knew something was up and so I just kept my distance. She seemed to be very friendly and as I talked with her I found out that she has a tourist shop on the Island and she was wanting me to come and visit it when I was finished touring the Island. I think many of the shop owners do that and they you really feel obligated to either stay far away from the shops or buy something at their little place. I didn’t really like her approach and it seemed really forced – like she was trying to be my best friend so I would come shop at her place. It was uncomfortable and I’ll just say that the situation with her got worse from there. I got on the ferry and went right to the top so that I could see everything on the ride over and I was amazed looking at such an interesting piece of historical culture. I’m not sure if any of you have heard about Isle Gorre but it’s the place where the French would take the slaves and keep them before they would ship them off to America. They have made a historical museum out of the entire Island and it was interesting to see everything. I got off and bought a ticket to enter to museums and then the lady ended up finding me again saying that when I was finished that I should come to her shop. I honestly had full intentions of not showing up (haha…I know it sounds mean, but the situation seemed to be kind of weird). I walked around for a bit and came to the church. As I went in I saw a lady who was sitting in a pew praying and as I walked around I realized that there was a priest with a few little kids sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament. After I looked around for a bit I knelt down on the marble floor behind them. The church reminded me of something I had seen in Italy and as I spent some time adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, for some reason I just really began to miss home. I think I realized then what this experience has been to me, and the biggest factor is that I’ve done it on my own. Being in Senegal, on a strange Island not knowing a single soul or enough French, I felt very small in this huge world.
After I left the church I walked out and I met the door man who said in broken English and hand gestures that a lady was looking for me. I didn’t talk long with him before she came around the corner looking for me. I was not pleased to see her, knowing that I didn’t want to buy anything from her shop nor did I exchange enough money to be buying anything overly priced. When I left Brikama, I had only exchanged 10,000 CFA (which is the money in Senegal) and I thought it would be enough for the weekend. But when I got to Senegal and had no place to exchange anymore money I realized that things are very expensive in Dakar and that I definitely didn’t exchange enough money. Well, instead of fret over it, I just enjoyed the time I had with the small amount of money that I had with me. What I should’ve realized was that people there would take American or Canadian money before they would take a dallasis. So as the lady caught up with me I found myself being escorted to her shop to go and look at her merchandise. She had some really nice things, although it seemed a lot like the things you would buy in the Gambia or any other tourist market. I promised her I would buy something small but that I didn’t have much CFA with me. I had only brought about 300 dallasis with me and I didn’t want to spend much of my CFA seeing that I had a whole weekend still to spend in Dakar. So when she told me what I would be paying for the earrings, bracelet and small jewelry box I was going to buy I quickly converted it from CFA to Dallasis to Dollars and realized I was going to be taken for more than these things are worth. I was just honest with her and I said that I hadn’t exchanged much CFA and that I didn’t want to buy anything if I wasn’t going to be able to do anything afterwards. She ended up letting me pay with Dallasis and the price I ended up getting was well beyond half of what she was first asking. I walked away from there relived that I didn’t have to go back. I’m sure she was trying to be nice but I didn’t get a great feeling from her.
I walked back down the hill to what is called the “Slave House” where all the slaves were kept just before they were boarded onto the ship to go to America. When I walked in, I of course couldn’t understand anything, I didn’t even know where to buy the ticket to get in and the guy just ended up letting me in after both of us trying to talk to one another. As I walked in, I saw a big group that was being talked to buy a French tour guide and since they didn’t have any programs in English I couldn’t understand anything that was going on. I honestly felt like some little kid. There was this elderly gentleman who asked me if I only spoke English and before I realized it this gentleman had made himself my personal tour guide. I got a little bit of what the tour was supposed to be but I don’t think I got all of the explanation of what the Slave house actually was. It was a rushed tour since the house was closing for the lunch break and I didn’t realize that since I couldn’t understand French. I looked around and tried to get a bit of the history that has made this place so popular. Throughout the day I honestly didn’t get much out of the whole looking around because everything was in French and even though I can read more French than understand, I could only get the basic concept of what was being said since I didn’t know the big words. I’ve realized how handicapped I’ve made myself by not keeping up with my French. After leaving the Slave house I was just walking around and I ended up seeing a back pack with a Canadian flag on it. I went right up to the girl and asked her if she was a Canadian and it turns out that she was and that she was teaching in Senegal. She had a few other friends, but I don’t think they were Canadian, maybe European or something. I wanted to talk with her more since I hadn’t had a decent conversation all day but she was busy on her way touring around the place with her friends. So I found myself wandering around until I went up to the top of a lookout where you can see the entire beach, restaurants, some of the history buildings and the ocean. It was beautiful. I spent sometime up there just watching everything going on. I walked a bit further and then I realized that people actually live on this Island. I’m not sure what privilege they have to live on such a historical piece of land. I walked through the small streets that reminded me more of Italy with the bougainvillea over the top of the fences and the colored window shutters. I walked past a few ladies washing clothes and behind them there was clothes drying on clothes lines. I guess it would be the perfect place to dry clothes since the breeze is so strong. I would just be worried about loosing my clothes to the breeze in the ocean. After I walked through the streets I came to the museum where all the information and the articles of history were held. I bought a ticket and went in and even though I walked through at my own leisure, It still didn’t give me enough time to learn French and know the basics of what the history was telling me. Seriously, I made a vow then and there that I was going to go home and learn French. After going through the museum I went around the opposite side of the Island and just sat on the edge of a wall looking at the ocean and the kids jumping off of the dock to swim back to the rocky shore. There was one strange Rasta looking gentleman who was fishing with just a fishing line. He didn’t have a pole, just the line. I didn’t notice him catch anything while I was there but he looked like he knew what he was doing. I actually ended up leaving after sitting there for a bit because it was close to 4 pm and I didn’t know when the next ferry was going to leave. And honestly, I didn’t want to run into the tourist shop lady. So I walked back to the dock where people were lining up to go back to Dakar and as I was waiting in line, I heard a few familiar accents. I turned around to see three American speaking and looking gentlemen and when I said, “are you guys American” they said, “yes, we are.” After asking them each where they were from I found out that they were from Ohio, Texas, and Minnesota. When I realized that he said Minnesota I got really excited knowing that he was from the Midwest. I stood there and had a really good conversation with him. He had come with the Army to learn French. He was from Duluth so I could relate since there was a school that was in our Conference in College that came from Duluth. We had a good conversation and we both said that it was refreshing to talk to someone that we could have an intelligent conversation with. He’s been staying with a family who only speaks French and I’ve been by myself for the entire weekend not being able to talk with anyone. I was glad to have met him.
I got off the ferry and headed back to the sisters convent and it wasn’t hard to find at all. I actually took a bit of a stroll after that since I didn’t have anything else to do. I ended up going down some of the streets near the convent and I was amazed at the development that I saw compared to the Gambia. If you take a look at a map of Africa, and closer now to Senegal and the Gambia you notice that the Gambia follows the river from the ocean and Senegal surrounds the Gambia. Senegal was a colony of the French and the Gambia was a colony of the English and what you hear from Gambian’s is that when the English settled in the Gambia all they wanted was access to the ocean to import and export things. So they didn’t develop the land or the villages at all. When the French came and settled in Senegal, they developed the country to look like France, with structured buildings and roads. There is a SIGNIFICANT difference between the neighboring countries. Being in Dakar for the weekend made me think I was in Europe. But being in the Gambia, my eyes are opened to a bigger issue of poverty and how slow the development is. I walked around for a bit and then headed back to the convent where I took a bit of a nap and read more of Mother Angelica’s book. She’s seriously so funny and the book is really interesting, I couldn’t put it down. After my nap and reading I went down for supper. At supper, I spent a little bit of time trying to talk to one of the young sisters. She’s really funny and I wish I could remember her name. She can speak French and Spanish but her English is only small but what I liked most about her was that she made an effort to try to talk to me. Even though we didn’t understand each other most of the time, we laughed like we knew what each other was saying.
For the most part, after supper was finished and we did the dishes, everyone headed their own ways to go to bed and I was looking forward to one thing. A hot shower.  I went to bed and slept well until around 8:30am. I went down for breakfast and I had spoken to the funny Spanish/French sister and she said that she was going to mass at 10:30. So I decided to go with her. She sings in the choir there and when we arrived at the church, she apparently invited me to come and sing in the choir and all I said was. “ yes that’s fine,” and walked to a pew. We both laughed at it afterwards when one of the sisters translated saying that she had invited me to sing and I didn’t understand her and just went to sit in the pew. Mass was nice, and of course all in French.
When we got home, we got ready for lunch and then I went out for a bit of a stroll on the town. I knew that I wasn’t going to go far since I know that it’s not necessarily safe for a white woman to walk around alone in the evening. So my goal was to not stay out too late. It was the afternoon so I knew I had plenty of time. I walked up past some of the streets that I had walked the previous day and one of the sisters had told me that there is a big square called “independence Square” (I think). The president lives near it and there are tons of little shops around there. I just started looking around and I saw many people just walking and relaxing. I went down one street where I found a shop that sold Ice Cream, so I went in a bought it. The price for a tiny small scoop was 800 CFA. What a large number for a small amount! That’s what I thought at least. I walked back and crossed the street to go and sit on a fountain that was in the middle of the square. For the first time I saw people selling coffee on the sidewalk. They had a little cart with a thermos and cups. Of course, just like the Gambia, it was instant coffee, but I still have yet to see a coffee shop or someone selling coffee in the streets in the Gambia. So that shocked me a bit. I can assure you…I’m looking forward to a good cup of Tim Horton’s coffee when I return home….something that is NOT instant.
I walked around the square for a bit and then I went to sit on the steps of this huge building. It was nice to just sit and watch everything go by. After sitting for some time and talking with the gentleman who came and sat beside me talking, I began to walk a bit further down the street. I was walking when I heard my name called from the gentleman who had just walked past me. I turned around and realized that it was a gentleman from Brikama who had spent the past few days in Dakar because his wife was having their first child. He was so excited to see me as was I since I didn’t know anyone. He mentioned to me that what he was doing was going to give charity to someone since God blessed him with a baby girl. In his tribes’ culture, the father is supposed to give something to charity and what he was giving was a piece of gold that had a loop on it for a necklace. When he saw me all he kept saying was that this meeting was set up by God, since both of us were in Dakar at the same time. He was insistent that he give me the piece of gold and all he asked was that I would never give it away because it meant so much to his family. I was in shock. The naming ceremony was supposed to be the following day and that is the day where the father reveals the name he will give the baby. I gave him some money so that he could buy a bag of sugar for the party they were going to have and we went our separate ways both smiling, I’m sure. These are experiences where you are so grateful for becoming a part of people’s lives. Realizing that he picked me out on the street and felt that it was that important to come talk with me makes me realized how great the Gambian people are.
As I kept walking my mission was to find the cathedral and I knew about where it was but not for sure. I walked past many buildings and in through some small side streets and eventually made it to the church. But, unfortunately the place was locked. I just stared at the big building and turned back around to go back toward home. On my way home, I met some really interesting people who’s stories are probably better left unsaid. I got back to the house and just relaxed a bit, and I actually finished my Mother Angelica’s book. If any of you have a chance to read it, it’s a great book and a great story of hope for the little people.
I ate a bit of supper later in the evening and then went to bed early. I knew that we would have a long day driving back so I wanted to get some sleep. It seems that I’ve gotten more sleep than I normally get, since I didn’t know many people or places. It was a really relaxing weekend and I’m glad that I got to experience Senegal. I hope to one day go back, after I’ve learnt more French. 
When I got up the next morning I wasn’t exactly sure when Father and John were coming to pick me up so I just got up early and hung around the house. I went down to the sisters little shop to see if Pierre was working and to thank him for being my escort to the ferry. I was glad to see him again. The sisters sell a lot of things in their little shop. They make cookies and goodies, jams, and they sell lotions and soaps made from a particular plant.(I think) I actually can’t remember exact what it is but Pierre was trying to explain all of them for me. We had a good chat, speaking half French and English and I left to see if Father had arrived. He hadn’t yet so I went back up to my room and I met up with the French/Spanish speaking sister whose room turned out to be right next to mine. She was getting ready for her classes and so she taught me a bit of French. She conjugated some verbs for me, and that’s one thing I’m very familiar with since we did a lot of it in school. It’s just putting it into verbal practice is what is difficult for me. Father and John arrived shortly after and we packed the car, said our good byes and we were on our way. I was really glad to have met the sisters there and honestly, like I said, I wish I knew more French so I could’ve gotten to know each of them better. I hope to one day see them again.
Our drive home was similar to our drive there, although I had the back seat to myself (besides some of the boxes on the seat next to me) and at times I took a bit of a cat nap. We stopped on our way through Kaolack and when father asked me if I wanted to buy anything, I just thought, “I don’t think I could eat anything from here.” I just said that I wouldn’t mind buying some oranges or apples. We didn’t stop much other than at the border and then when we got back to Barra. We were unlucky to not know anyone so it took us from 5:00pm to around 9:00pm to get on the ferry. Father doesn’t like sitting in the car so John and I were left in the car talking, expecting to get on the ferry any second. Like I said, any second turned into hours. I honestly didn’t mind since John was overly quiet on the way there and until we got back to Barra so I hadn’t had the chance to actually talk with him. We had fun with some of the young kids selling cashews and fruits. Once we finally got on the ferry and landed on the other side in Banjul we made our way to Serrekunda where John lives and we dropped him off. Father and I didn’t get back to Brikama until past 11:00pm and I think we were all tired from the long day. I’m sure Father and John were very tired since they both had busy weekends and I spent most of my time relaxing.
Yesterday and today I was back at school and back in the classroom. We had another addition to our staff at AMR, a new Art teacher. His name is Echen John or Mr. John to the students. Most of you French people would recognize the name Etienne, and he was named after a French man but because most people around here couldn’t pronounce the name correctly he changed the spelling so people now call him Echen. Echen is actually a part of our parish community at Resurrection Parish and although I’ve heard his name several times, I never actually had the chance to meet him. He and his friend Martin own a little tourist shop at the tourist market and they sell their Arts and Crafts there. I had been to the market the day that Echen was gone so that’s why I hadn’t met him yet. Many of the kids already know him well so I’m sure he’ll be a great addition to the AMR family.

Well wow…I hope you all enjoy our adventure to Dakar, I sure had fun but like I said, I need to learn more French before I ever go back.
I hope everyone at home is doing well and enjoying the warmer weather. Time is flying by and I still think that you guys have snow there!

Much Love, In Jesus and Mary,

Jen

"...You know Miss Jennifa is just trying to help us?!"

Saturday May 2, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope everyone is still celebrating the Resurrection of our Lord! Alleluia!
Today I experienced something very different….the funeral of a young girl. Last night when we got home, I went to spend some time with the girls and I noticed that Betty was gone. (There were only a few girls in the hostel since the last week in every month the girls all go home to visit their families. Some girls don’t have any so they stay.) Betty is from the village called SumaKunda. Last year the sisters had a young girl named Barbra who stayed in the hostel and she was also from Sumakunda. She finished her grade 12 year and graduated just on time since she had been sick the entire year. She had been in and out of the hospital and I don’t think they ever found out what she really was sick with. Many of the girls knew her well, since they all stay together in such close quarters. So when Barbra was sick the girls would go to visit her in the hospital. Apparently she got really sick a little while ago and we found out yesterday that she had gone to Dakar, Senegal to receive treatment and she died there. I think she was only 18 years old. Betty had gone to SumaKunda right away when she found out the news. Since the weather has been so hot and it’s very expensive to take a deceased body to the morgue, they buried her today (from what I know…1 day after she died). They brought her directly from Dakar this morning and had the funeral at 4:00 pm today. We were wondering when the funeral would be since many of the sisters wanted to go and many of the girls wanted to go because they all knew her so well. When we found out it was at 4:00pm today we all changed plans and got ready to go. I have been to one other funeral here (I’m not sure I mentioned that one.) and what I will say is that today’s and the previous one I’ve been to are very very different. The last one I went to was the funeral of an elderly lady. She was the sister of a priest in the diocese, so all the religious and priests went to the funeral mass and burial. But since she was an elderly person and had lived what she could of her life, it was a celebration realizing that she was on her way to heaven, hopefully. Since today was the funeral of a young girl, who had just started life, there was crying and weeping like I’ve never seen in real life before. When we arrived in Sumakunda, I remember passing a young woman who looked like she was completely lost and didn’t know what to do with herself. She was walking extremely fast and she had tears rolling down her face. We parked the truck right near the church and all of a sudden I saw this young woman as she pasted the church. She began to weep, and scream and run to a compound that we all assumed was the family’s compound. As she started many other women began to weep. I was walking toward the church with the sisters and I just couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. The death of someone young is very difficult to anyone, I’m sure but the outward expression of the women here in Africa is something that I would only have witnessed in a movie. We entered the church and it was packed inside as well as many people standing outside listening. Mass was beautiful and it was said by Father Gabisi. After mass ended, some of the men got up and carried the casket (which was probably the plainest casket I’ve ever seen) outside toward the graveyard. Everyone filed out of the church and we walked for a while in silence following the casket. I was trying to take everything in because, even though things are the same as a funeral at home, the environment and customs are VERY different. We passed the family’s compound and then started walking down a little road that led to a narrower road in a bush. We were walking through what looked to me like something we would recognize as a wheat field. There was a wooden fence that we followed along and at one point we had to walk one by one through the small path. We walked past and under a few cashew trees. Once we got to the spot where they were going to burry her we realized that she was the first person being buried there. Now, whether there is another graveyard somewhere else in the village or not is unknown to us but it was definitely the first time they had buried someone there. Father did the burial and just before he finished, a young girl began screaming and ran as fast as she could wailing all the way back to the compound. As she began to run, all the women except for a few of us all ran weeping behind her. Just as they put the casket down I saw people throw a bag of something on top of the casket and what I later found out was that it is custom to package up the deceased’s clothing and burry them with them because they believe that when they get where they are going, they want them to be able to cloth themselves. Obviously, that is a tribal custom that has slowly began to change with the rise of educated people. But many people still do it. As Catholics, we know that we wont ever need to be buried with anything since when we enter into the Glory of our Heavenly Father, we will be clothed anew! Since in Africa, you have many tribes who have slowly – with education- realized that many of the customs and believes are mere myths, when you attend things like this you see what each tribe’s customs are,like. We stayed until they were getting ready to cover the hole up. When we got back to the compound the sisters wanted to give their sympathies to the mother and father, so we had a gentleman take us in to the compound (which was lined with people sitting around the yard and house) and we greeted the family. The mother was in a room and she was lying on the floor. She was weeping and gently throwing herself around the floor. When she saw the sisters she got up and as she was still weeping the sisters all shook her hand and said something in the local language. I wasn’t sure if it was my place to say anything or to even greet her but she stuck her hand out to me and that was when I began to feel tears in my eyes. What would it be like to be a mother who loses her child? I can’t imagine. There were many people in the room with her as well as the room where the father was. The father was taking things much better than the mother and it was calm going into his room to greet him. We left eh compound but we all just kind of stood around being silent. That’s what everyone was doing. You can really see how hard the death of someone in the community is. It takes it’s toll on everyone in the village. I’m not sure what happened after since we left after that but I imagine that the family will mourn for many days. Sr. Catherine said that tomorrow they will kill a cow as a custom to the Mangiagos (one of the Gambian tribes, which this girl was). Customarily, the family will grieve for 1 year giving charity on the 10 days, 1 month, and one year after the death. Some tribes will wear black for the entire year to show that they are in mourning. In things like this, I really see how the customs and traditions of small villages are like. I remember having a teacher in high school whose husband died, and since she was a native she cut her hair as an offering. That was as much as I saw for customs growing up – other than a pow wow or sweat. But here, you can see what the tribes are like and the customs that they have, and it’s honestly incredible to witness. On the way home, it was pretty silent in the truck. I feel like I just watched a movie and jumped into the screen. These are experiences that I am grateful that I’m not just a passing by tourist, I feel like a part of the Gambian Community.
The past week has been very busy because we have been trying to prepare for what was supposed to be a big fundraiser event today. Anne Marie Rivier (our school) has been trying to raise money for our bus and some of the building for the school. Since the sisters have a bus and we carry many students, they try to make the fare for the bus cheap. Many of the families can’t afford to either pay transport or an expensive bus fare. But since the fare isn’t very expensive ( up to maybe 6 dallasis for the longest ride) it can be difficult to pay the driver and pay for any repairs that may happen. So the school committee came up with the idea of a fundraiser to raise money to have in case there is a need for money for the bus. So, they hired a local musician, “Jaliba” to play. For the past week, the committee and teachers have been working on trying to get things organized for today’s show. We were going to have it held at the Presentation nursery school. Many people were invited and had been talking about it all week. It was announced on the radio and on tv, and there was going to be ton of really good food to buy. It was supposed to be a great day. But a few days ago, the sisters heard that he was out of the country recording some music so they were trying to get ahold of him to see if he would be back in time for the fundraiser. But no one could get ahold of him until this morning, when everything was supposed to start. I was even frustrated, knowing that if you have a commitment and something else comes up, then you should just inform the people with a bit of notice. But he didn’t let anyone know and we were all worried for the past days since there was so much planning that went into all of it. So the show was cancelled. We’re looking at trying to get things rescheduled since the school needs the money.
I have recently been reading a book that a friend gave me called, “Mother Angelica: the story of a nun, her nerve, and a network of miracles”. The book is the life story of Mother Angelica, the sister who began the EWTN network for Catholic television and radio. If anyone has ever read it, they can relate to what I’m going to say because one thing you will find out is that Mother Angelica is absolutely hilarious. In everything she does, there is an element of surprise and laughter. Many times while I’m reading the book, I realize that I’m laughing out loud all alone in my classroom. I’m amazed at her faithfulness to the Lord and her story is really incredible. Now, I’m one for a surprise, so I won’t say much about the book if any one wants to read it but what I will say is that her faith in our Lord has given me a new outlook on what my vocation is, why I’m here and why it is important to give my entire being to the Lord. Even though many times, Mother is stuck in a rut and all things seem impossible, she knows that the Lord will always provide for her. That has really helped me being here since the past month I’ve said to myself over and over, “why am I really here? What good am I actually doing? What is my purpose in being here.” But, over and over I hear and see the Lord show me reasons why I am here and why he has called me (of all people) into this position. I’ve thought so many times, “ah…I’m definetly not cut out to be a teacher, and I’m not sure how I got these kids.” And one day, I felt the Lord say to me, “Jen, I’ve given each of these 12 students to you for a specific reason. Don’t worry…” There are times I feel like I’m not making a difference, but I’m glad that it’s that way because those are the times I say, “Ok Lord, you’re in control. You’ve given me this situation, now you work through me to get to these kids”( which are ALL muslim…by the way  ). Every time I read Mother Angelica’s book, it gives me a little bit of strength to go on, since that’s how the Lord worked in her life. The Lord just gave her enough to move forward but not to have the entire picture. So, all in all…I thought at this point of my jouney being here I would’ve thought I would’ve had all the answers as to why the Lord has called me here, but I can honestly say that I don’t yet have a clear picture of why. But then again, what is true faith when we know what the next step is? Please continue to pray for me.
The kids are definetly improving and I’m pleased with what they’ve learnt. I know that my kids are doing well because I will go to the other classes and realized that some of the kids are still behind because my kids can sound out letters and read small words. It’s exciting for me to see it and I know that even though they complain sometimes, they KNOW that I’m here to help them. Alieu said one day when I was giving a few students a talking to that hadn’t finished their homework, “you guys, why don’t you finish your homework? You know that Miss Jennifa is just trying to help us?!” It was so cute. There are a few students who are still struggling but they have come a long way and I’m glad that there are a few key students who really help the kids move up since they are very intelligent when they do their work. I am learning to love each one of these students in their own way and each of their personalities is very different and unique. Alieu has become my side kick and he loves to help out in class. He is one of the smartest kids in the class and what I love most is that he “gets” the non classroom related things, like what it means to be a good person or that you should respect others.
Yesterday was May 1st and every year the priests and religious have a gathering at the beach to just relax and have fun. I was excited to go since I had been invited and I now I know many of the religious and priests. I enjoy spending time with all of them. I got up at around 7:30am to see what everyone was doing and I ran into Sr. Odile outside in the African kitchen making meat pies. So I asked her if she needed any help and soon after there were Sr. Catherine, Sr. Odile, Sr. Josaphine and I helping to try to get everything done so we could leave in time for mass at 10:30am. We made our way there and we thought we were going to be late for mass but we arrived just as mass was starting. Mass was held under a little hut area on the beach. The Bishop said mass and many of the preists and religious came. After mass two of the postulants, Harriet and Elizabeth and I walked down the beach together. The postulants have been separated since February due to their assignments at different places in the country so I think it gave them a good opportunity to catch up and talk. I spend most of my time walking trying to catch these tiny little crabs that would stick their heads out of the sand. It’s so funny to see how fast they move. When we got back to where the party was held everyone had started playing board games, or card games and was eating food. I visited with a few people for a bit and then Sr. Josaphine asked me if I wanted to go for a swim. Both her and I love to swim so we knew at one point we’d have a partner to go with. So we went in and the waves were really big. We didn’t go far since we didn’t want anything dangerous to happen but we had a good time getting slapped in the face with huge waves. For the most part I spent the day just relaxing, spending time with friends, and I spent some time by myself too just sitting on the beach reading. Just before supper everyone was summon closer to the gathering area to play some games and honestly, everyone had many laughs and a good time. At one point Fr. Bruno started lining people up for the 100 meter dash and that’s when the real laughing started. Everyone was lined up according to how they fit into the category of height or ability and seriously, I think EVERYONE had their chance to run, whether they wanted to or not. I fit in with the postulants and young sisters. We ate supper with was pork and chicken yassa and everyone left to go home shortly afterwards. I think everyone had a great day. It was nice to just get out and relax.

Much Love, In Jesus and Mary,

Jen