December 2002

December 22, 2002

Right now I’m in the airport in Casablanca, Morocco. Our flight has been delayed three hours, which will make this the third night with little sleep.

This trip originated with a family in my stake, the Bentleys. Two of the boys made 500 humanitarian kits for Africa as an Eagle Project. They have a teacher in their school from Senegal, Fode Doumbia, who married a Peace Corps worker, Shauna, and moved to the US quite a few years ago. So it was decided to create a group to go hand deliver the kits in the village where Fode grew up. My ward was asked to help sew the bags and when Allison and I heard about the trip, we decided to join them.

We started our journey Friday night with a flight leaving SLC at 11:59 p.m. We flew four hours to NYC, where we spent the day. Allison and I are laying over in NYC on our way back home, so we dropped a bag at Julie Reese’s house, where we will be staying. I was tempted to just hang at her apartment and nap. But, it was too exciting to be there and anticipating the adventures ahead, we couldn’t start with hanging out sleeping all day.

We went to ground zero. I did not know what to expect, I think I thought it would still be a smoldering hole. There is a fence all around the block with memorials on it. There is a giant hole where workers are rebuilding the subway. They have been debating what kind of memorial to erect. I think it was so profound having nothing there in an area surrounded by skyscrapers. I hope they make some sort of park, instead of building another skyscraper, that way you get a sense of the magnitude of the destruction.

The rest of the day we spent window-shopping. I have always wanted to see the Christmas windows on 5th Avenue. New York at Christmastime just seems like it would be magical—which probably comes from seeing too many movies. It was pretty insane. You had to wait in line to get into stores to shop. There was a line wrapped around Macy’s just to walk in front of the store to see the windows. We didn’t wait in line and just looked over people’s shoulders. All in all, a good day.

Then it was back to the airport for another red-eye flight. We arrived in Casablanca early this morning. I was able to sleep a little on the plane thanks to Dr. Frank and the Ambien prescription. I’ve been getting a little frustrated with the group dynamic. We always seem to be waiting for someone and it takes forever to get anywhere. We hung out at the airport for quite a while trying to decide what to do. We finally decided to drop some gear at a hotel and then go to Hussein’s mosque.

While waiting at the airport for the hotel shuttle we met a couple of guys from Senegal, Moe and Papa. They had been in school in the U.S. and were headed home for the holidays. It was lucky that we found them. Nobody in our group speaks French very well, but Moe and Papa took care of us. We spent the day with them and they handled everything for us.

Hussein’s mosque was amazing. It is the third largest mosque in the world with the tallest minaret. It took 10,000 craftsmen four years, working 24 hours a day to complete. The cost is estimated around $800 million. The intricate carvings on the walls, ceilings and columns were beautiful. The marble floor was heated where the men (20,000 capacity) kneel to pray. 5,000 women can worship in the balconies. With all those people and no air conditioning, it can get very hot and stuffy inside, so they made the ceiling open electronically for ventilation. Below the prayer floors were the washing chambers where they ritually cleanse themselves before worshipping. They were still completing public baths (both Muslim and Turkish) in the basement.

We went back to the hotel for lunch and a half hour nap. We decided to walk along the beach before we had to get back to the airport. Casablanca was different than I expected. It was much more Mid-eastern feeling than African. I didn’t feel very safe walking around just Allison and me. The beach was interesting. There were so many soccer games going on that they kept running into each other and sometimes waves would come up on the shore so high they had to move the game. I would have liked to have seen other parts of Morocco.

And now, here we wait. Our flight is delayed until 9:30 p.m. and we will arrive in Dakar, Senegal around midnight. We will finally have a bed to sleep in tonight, but we have to be up very early tomorrow morning to tour Goree Island before the six-hour bus ride to Koussanar. We had a hard time finding a place to wait because our terminal is so filled with smoke that we were all getting sick. I forget how odd it is in Utah that we don’t allow people to smoke in buildings. The woman who arranged our flights is here at the airport on her way home to Senegal. She is nice and has a cute little baby. The airline gave us meal tickets because we have been delayed so long. That was hilarious. They didn’t arrange it with the restaurant so there was no food, but everyone stood in line and waited while they cooked it. I admit I haven’t been impressed by any of the food so far. (They do have the world’s most international drink, Fanta. No red Fanta though, that was my favorite in Belize.)

Tuesday, December 24, 2002

We finally made it to Koussanar. What a trip!!! We got to Dakar about 1:00 a.m. Two pieces of luggage were missing, so we sat around while Fode and some other people did the paperwork. We didn’t get out of the airport until 3:30 a.m. By the time we made it to our hotel and ate a light dinner (consisting of a sweet mush- it was like sweetened yogurt with cream of wheat balls in it) it was 4:30 a.m. Because we hadn’t slept in so long, they cancelled the trip to Goree and let us sleep until 9:00. I finally had a bed and was so glad to lie down, and then I couldn’t fall asleep. I finally took a sleeping pill and was able to rest for a few short hours.

I’m learning that Senegal is about being patient. Everything takes a long time and nothing starts on time. We were scheduled to leave for Koussanar at 11:00, but finally left at 1:00. I guess our luggage was so heavy the bus drivers wanted extra money and Fode had to renegotiate the price. We have all those humanitarian kits that we are all packing that really weigh us down. They crammed us all on three local buses and we headed for Koussanar. There was so little leg room on the bus and, after I thought our bus was full, 4-5 more people came aboard. I couldn’t believe I was going to be in that position for six hours. I wasn’t—it actually took us thirteen hours to get to Koussanar.

A woman on the plane had warned us that the roads to Koussanar were bad, and she was right. There were so many potholes that it really slowed us down. I was impressed with our bus driver. He was attentive and did his best to swerve to miss them. Additionally, he had to be careful of oncoming cars because neither of us drove in our lane. One of the other bus drivers wasn’t as skilled. They hit a lot of the holes and lost a tire (it completely came off the bus) and later cracked a hole in the radiator. The bus driver’s solution was to pour flour in the radiator assuming the water would make it stick together and plug up the hole. Needless to say, it didn’t work. In addition, police stopped us quite often. Since nobody obeys traffic laws in Senegal (driving in Dakar was insane) the police just randomly stop people to check for license and registration. Being a busload of white people, we were stopped every time. Luckily, the landscape was interesting and we all felt relatively good, having spent the night horizontally.

Looking out the windows of the bus, I felt like I needed to pinch myself. It was just what I thought Africa would be. In fact, it was more African than I pictured- brightly colored clothing, people walking with large loads on their heads, and animals hanging out on the highway (domestic animals like cows and sheep, Senegal does not have big game like some parts of Africa). It is all perfectly Africa. We were all chatting and excited to be on our way. Also, since we had no idea how long it would take, I think we were all in good spirits thinking we were always almost there. We had interesting conversations on the long ride. Shauna filled us in on Africa tidbits and answered our questions about being Muslim. Very interesting.

I was very surprised at how much garbage was everywhere. The country doesn’t have garbage cans. When someone in our bus finished drinking a can of soda our guide went to throw it out the window. I stopped him. Shauna said that no matter where you put it, it would end up on the side of the road anyway. Sometimes they will burn large piles of garbage. Someone in our bus asked if the government officials worried about what the country would look like in the future. Her response was that when you can’t feed your people and are worried about today, you don’t think of tomorrow. Later, when she changed her baby’s diaper, she just threw it out the window. I feel terrible that I brought anything disposal with me. I think I will pack it home to throw away. It makes me thankful for radical environmentalist who drive people crazy and demand so much in America. I think they sometimes go overboard, but we end up with a good balance.

When we arrived in Koussanar at 2:30 a.m. we were exhausted. The people in the village had been waiting since 4:00 p.m. to feed us dinner and have a reception. We ate, were assigned our rooms, and were in bed around 4:30 a.m. Our accommodations are nicer than I thought. It is a cement building with linoleum floors. Allison and I share one of many rooms that connect to a large eating area. All the single guys are sharing a room, dormitory style, with mattresses on the floor. We bought mosquito nets (bright pink) which they hung for us, but I don’t think we need them. Being the dry season and in a drought, there aren’t many bugs. We have a bathroom that we all share. The water shuts off randomly during the day. There are three toilets, three showers and a sink. Not bad.

Since we arrived so late, they postponed the reception until the following morning, which means we were up at 8:00 a.m. to have breakfast. The reception started around 10:00 (late, of course). It was really nice. All of the village dignitaries came and spoke and they asked Jean to speak as well. Sega, Fode’s friend, translated for us. They were so welcoming and excited to have us there. One man made a big deal about how important it is for us to go home and be ambassadors of Koussanar in Salt Lake City. I didn’t realize how important our trip was to them. I came just thinking I would have a good experience with another culture. They were very serious about what a difference our trip can make to their community and making the world a smaller, more intimate place for all of us.

We then dove right into our projects. We learned that the children had been waiting at the school for two hours for us to come teach. Teaching school was pretty scary. I’ve never taught school in my life. Add a foreign language barrier in there and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought we would have time to collaborate with the local teachers before school, but we didn’t. They had more classes than we had volunteers and I found myself in front of 50 students with a teacher who did not speak English. I was happy that I had a good translator and luckily Allison showed up to help. We sang a few songs (i.e. Head Shoulders Knees and Toes) and made some flash cards with English words. We tried to think of as many games as possible with the cards. It was a long two hours. We will be more organized tomorrow.

After lunch (served usually around 2:30), a few of us went to the market. It is small, but a fun experience. Most people have never seen Americans and it is fun to have them come up, shake my hand and then giggle and walk away. There is always a crowd of children waiting outside of our door. They are cute. Allison brought bubbles so I took some out this afternoon and got mobbed. It lasted about ten minutes and then I had to put them away. Everyone was yelling at me to have a turn blowing. They would blow them right in my face and in no time I was covered with soapy water. I was laughing, but more and more kids were coming over and it was too big to manage.

Everyone here is so friendly. They bend over backwards to accommodate us and are so eager to chat, even though we don’t speak the same language. One benefit of all the waiting around is we have been able to get to know our group, as well as some local people. I really enjoy our group. There doesn’t seem to be any clicks or backbiting. We work together well and everyone just seems happy to be here and get involved.

I just took a nap for about an hour and a half. It’s now 7:30 p.m. and I’m waiting for dinner to start. We were supposed to eat at 7:00. This place makes Mormon standard time look anal-retentive. Ü The food here was really good the first couple of days. We usually have rice or couscous with meat for lunch and dinner. The spice they use is very good, but it is always the same. Some of the meat has been questionable. One night someone in our group found a jawbone with teeth in his food. Not surprising. About six people sit around one large plate or bowl on the floor and eat. The Senegalese people eat with their hands, we did that a couple of times, but they’ve now offered us spoons if we want. There are very few vegetables involved in the meal- maybe a carrot and a couple potatoes to split between everyone. I know we are eating well for the standard here. It makes me realize how malnourished the local people must be, especially the children. The protocol is for the men to eat first, then the women, and then the children get what is left. I know that when we finish our food, the cooks eat our leftovers. Food is never wasted.

December 25, 2002

Christmas Day was amazing. I better back up and finish Christmas Eve. After dinner we had a meeting outside. Theresa’s mother sent luminary bags with her, so we set them up in circle in the schoolyard and we had a Christmas Eve fireside. Allison was in charge. It was nice. We discussed the symbols of Christmas and our experiences so far in Africa. It was perfect. The night sky was clear and the stars were bright. We sang some Christmas carols and then came in to bed. It was another late night.

Christmas morning we got up at 7:00 a.m. to start our projects. School is getting easier to teach. However, I am concerned that there seems to be fewer students each day. I am surprised how much French comprehension has come back to me, but it is frustrating that I can’t remember the vocabulary to speak. I know what people say, but still can’t communicate. One day at school, I was telling them what we were going to do the next day. They all got ready for the project. I kept saying, “We will do it tomorrow,” then I realized I had confused the words for tomorrow and today. Oops. Luckily, they are very forgiving.

The afternoon of Christmas day was a big wrestling match that I would compare to the Superbowl here in America. The whole village shut down for it. We have a TV where we are staying, so a large crowd gathered here to watch the match. The favorite was Tyson (nicknamed after Mike Tyson). In order to win all you had to do is knock down your opponent. After two hours of prematch craziness the match began. Tyson’s opponent pushed him backwards, he tripped over his feet and the match was over in less than 10 seconds. Hilarious.

The town donated 5 lambs for our Christmas dinner. This was a huge sacrifice for them and very appreciated. However, I which I could say that I enjoyed it more. (By this time rice and meat with the same spices every meal was getting old) They put up a string of blinking Christmas lights on the wall by the table and they were very proud to turn out the lights and show us the decoration. After dinner we went out to our front patio where a group came to play drums and other instruments. We watched them dance and sing and we all joined in sporadically and danced with them. It was a lot of fun and really topped the African experience.

December 26, 2002

School again this morning. It gets easier every day to teach. We didn’t have as many students today. We got there and the teachers weren’t there yet. The kids were playing in the schoolyard. I joined some girls playing a game which was a little like Red Rover. They thought it was hilarious that we joined in. The teachers came and we had two hours of classes.

After school I went to the clinic. I haven’t had much experience with the other projects and I really want to. It was so interesting working there. I was very impressed with Frank and his patience. People were lined up outside and he saw person after person, non-stop. He was very respectful of the local physicians and their diagnosis. He told us that half of the people there have malaria. We ran out of medication for malaria and ended up giving out a lot of multivitamins. Frank said that the people there are so trusting of Western medicine that he could have handed out sugar pills and they would feel better. The clinic was filthy. The linoleum floor looked like it had never been washed. The walls were stained with blood and who knows what else. Disinfectant was unheard of. We spent our time sorting pills into plastic bags and labeling them.

The hardest to see were the children- babies who in America would have been in intensive care, but there were no local facilities to do much for them in Koussanar. That was heart wrenching. One woman brought in her servant girl. The girl was about 13 and was given to a richer family because her family did not have any money. She was from a different ethnic group and did not speak the same language as her employers. They brought her in because she did not have a lot of energy to do her work. She had a goiter on her neck, which Frank informed us was due to no iodine in their diet. She needed to take a 40 mile trip to the next town to get the supplements she needed. Her employer said, “No way, she has to work. And if she doesn’t work we don’t send money to her family and they starve.” Frank explained that she could die if she didn’t get help, but the woman saw no need to do anything. Don Hale, a man in our group, ended up paying for her daily wages, the trip to Tamba, and the medication (total of $40). The town made a huge deal out of it with a big ceremony where Don presented the money to the doctor. This was partially because if Don would have just given the money to the woman, she would have pocketed it and never taken the girl to Tamba.

Allison and Jean came by and started talking with the local midwives. They asked that they come get us if a baby was going to be born. After lunch, someone came to get us to see the baby born. We thought the mother would be in labor a while so we took some time getting over there. We were wrong and got there just after the baby had been delivered. I felt a little awkward just because it seems like an intimate moment for the mother and here we were, five strangers, hovering over her gawking. But it was fascinating. When we arrived the mother was laying on a dirty cement floor in a pool of blood. The midwife was scrubbing the baby in dirty water. She handed the baby to Kallie and then washed her instruments in the water where she just had the baby. She then tended to the mother. She was all business, no compassion. The mother had been in labor for three days and had a high fever. Eventually, she got up onto a small bed and laid down. Some people in our group went to give a little TLC to her. The midwife was cracking us up. She kept talking to us, asking if we had any brothers in America that would write to her. Amy poured some cold water for the mother, but it was promptly drunk by the midwife. We went and found Frank who gave some antibiotics to the mother thinking that her fever was due to an infection. Another midwife came in and took the placenta. They then dumped the water onto the floor and swept all the blood out the door.

We got back to the center (where we were staying) and hung out for a while before leaving to visit one of the smaller, outlying villages. It was a great experience. We all piled onto horse carts and drove down the dusty roads. Again, I couldn’t help but thinking that it was exactly what I imagined Africa to be. When we arrived, all the kids came out to get their pictures taken. Shauna had learned to make stoves while in the Peace Corps so we made one to show the women how to do it. They cook hotter and faster and save fuel. There was a huge crowd so I mostly hung out with the kids and enjoyed watching everyone interact. We returned just as it was getting dark, had a late dinner, and went to bed.

The people here are so wonderful and so happy. They have nothing as far as material things, but they don’t know what they have never had. Selfishness and envy are not a part of life, as a result they have a joy that we in America miss. I love the school kids. They are so excited to come up to me around town, shake my had and say in their best, newly learned English, “What is your name?” and then “My name is…” I love it. In school they are so eager to learn. I ask a questions and they all raise their hands, snap their fingers and say, “madame, madame” When I call on them, they usually don’t know the answer, they just want to participate.

Friday, December 27, 2002

The last day of school. I am constantly asked for my address. Everyone wants an American penpal. I feel like a rockstar because every time I leave the center there are crowds waiting to ask for my autograph (address). It really is tiring. I’m never alone and constantly feel like someone is hanging on me wanting something. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or complain. Everyone here is so kind and gracious and willing to give us anything they think will make us more comfortable.

School was hard today. I had everyone write letters to an American penpal. I thought that I can find a French class back in Utah to write to them. They were so excited and as the word spread, more and more kids showed up. The teachers wouldn’t let anyone in the class that wasn’t on the roll so we had crowds of kids outside the door and windows all day. It took much longer than I thought to write letters. Throughout the week, I’ve taught them some basic phrases like, “What is your name”. So I thought we’d put them together with a few other things and write a form letter. I wrote out everything on the board in English, which the French translation underneath and just had them copy it. It took forever. We were late getting out of the first class so when I went to rotate with the other teachers, they had all rotated without me. So I didn’t have a class to go to and my class didn’t have a teacher. They opened another room because there were so many kids so we had an extra classroom going.

I was more exhausted than I had been before. Little did I know I was getting sick. Since there was an extra class, I thought I would just skip the youngest kids. They didn’t really know how to write anyway. But the teacher came into the class I was teaching and asked that, even though school time was up, would I still go into that classroom to have his kids write letters. Allison went in to get started while I finished up with our third group.

One of the most difficult things was getting paper and pens for everyone. I had brought paper, but we had to share pens. Then in every class I had less than before because everyone wanted to keep theirs. Next time I come to Africa, I’m brining pens. I thought the kids would want candy, but everywhere we go they say, “bic?” They want pens. Who would have guessed.

There was a little girl in one of my classes that stole my heart. I think her name was Fatou. (I was terrible trying to pronounce and remember any names.) She kept asking me to come meet her parents. Family is a big deal in Senegal and everyone asked to have us come home with them to meet their family. We hadn’t had much time, but I promised her after the last day of school, I would go to her house. Allison, Kallie, Chelsea and I took an interpreter and walked with her to her house. I kept thinking that my French was getting really good and I would have simple conversations with Fatou walking over through the village and be so proud of myself. Then I would ask the interpreter and find out I had no clue what was going on.

Fatou’s house was nice, relatively speaking. I am guessing her family is one of the wealthier in the village. Her parents weren’t home. Her father drives a truck and was away and her mother was at the market. Her grandparents, brother, his wife, and uncle were there. She got chairs for us all to sit on the porch. We weren’t sure what we were to do once we were sitting there. There we all were and none of us could communicate with each other. We asked for a tour of the house. There were several buildings to the house, all surrounding a courtyard where they had a mango tree. They were very proud of that tree! The largest building was where they slept. It was cement with a porch (where we sat) and open doorways to little bedrooms. They were small and furnished with a bed and some hooks for a few items of clothing. There was also a small cooking hut and a prayer hut. Before we left the grandfather asked us to come into the prayer hut. He gave us a blessing. It was so touching. We had no idea what he said, but it was such a kind gesture. We were supposed to participate by cupping our hands, saying ‘amen’, and putting our hands to our face. We just figured it out as we went by watching Fatou, her friend, and our interpreter. When we left Fatou and her friend started laughing and making fun of Kallie. I guess she couldn’t tell that we were saying ‘amen’ so she just started mumbling like she was speaking a foreign language. We had a good laugh.

After we got back I was so tired and just wanted to lie down for a few minutes. Just as I did, Allison came in and said they were going to the market. It was market day, so there were many more vendors than before. I really didn’t have the energy, but thought that I’m only in Africa once so I can’t sleep through it. After about ½ hour at the market I was about to pass out and was near tears. I told Allison and our translator that I had to get back. I didn’t know if I would make it I was so dizzy and tired.

People in our group have been getting really sick. A few days earlier I had told Allison that I felt my body was trying to fight off something and I hoped it would until we got home. I guess I lost. As soon as I hit my bed, I started crying. It was strange. I couldn’t control it. It was just like my body was trying to rid itself of something and crying was all I could do. I was out for two days. I have never been that sick. I didn’t have the energy to roll over in bed. I slept a lot. I threw up some, but again it wasn’t because of a sour stomach, it was more my body trying to get rid of something. Our room was the furthest from the bathroom and every time I had to go, I had to trip over everyone playing cards, chatting, dancing, and whatever in the commons room. The worst was not knowing if there would be toilet paper in the bathroom. I would have to run to the bathroom, but need to frantically search my bags for a tissue first, in case there was no TP in the bathroom, which was about 70% of the time. By now the one bathroom for all of us was filthy, but I didn’t care. I used to hate public restrooms, but now even those gross bathrooms in the dinky gas stations on the way to Colorado are just fine.


Sunday, December 29, 2003

I don’t remember Saturday. Sunday I was a little better. One of the days I got a blessing. We had a sacrament meeting. I came out of my room to take the sacrament, but then laid on my bed with the door open to hear testimony meeting. I was so bummed that I was missing everything. Saturday was our play day. There was a big soccer game between our group and the local kids—so I hear. Brady ran into the goal post at full force. He lost a tooth and Frank had to give him 35 stitches. (Later, at home, he found out he cracked his upper jaw, needed 9 root canals, and several surgeries. He also deeply bruised the bone in his knee.) I also kept thinking that I had to get better because facing that long, hot, crowded bus ride back to Dakar and then two days of flying was more than I thought I could handle.

Usually when things get tough, I think I’m pretty good a sucking it up and having fun anyway- or at least making the best of it. I had no desire to even try this time. I just wanted to be unconscious. I had no shame and cried openly. I was miserable and didn’t care. Allison was so good to me. I don’t what I would have done had she not been there.

We left Sunday afternoon. I was feeling a little better. They packed the bus with people more so than on our way there. The custom is that it is rude to turn someone away who needs a ride. I cried to myself more than once on the way home. It was only 9-10 hours this time. I don’t remember a lot of it. The last couple hours of the bus trip I felt a little better and was able to converse and laugh a little with everyone. By this time I hadn’t eaten in over two days. I was so hungry. When we arrived in Dakar, Fode’s sister had made sandwiches for us. I took one bite and almost threw up. I cried again. I just wanted soup or crackers, but there was nothing. This experience gave me added compassion for Senegalese people. Also, whenever I get sick at home, I will be so thankful that I’m not in Africa!!

Monday, December 30, 2002

I woke up feeling quite a bit better. We went to Fode’s sister’s for breakfast. Rice and meat again. I thought I’d be okay to eat it, but I took one bite and knew I better not eat any more. I felt bad. I didn’t want to offend his sister, but eating really wasn’t an option, so I sat with the group, holding my spoon and sort of pretended to eat.

Fode had to run some errands that morning and was going to meet us after breakfast. The plan was to spend the morning at Goree Island then shop in the Dakar market. We waited and waited for Fode. He called and said he was a mile away in a taxi stuck in traffic. It took at least an hour after that. Traffic in Dakar is insane. There are about 4 million people in the city. It is a good example of what happens when a city doesn’t have a plan for growth.

By the time we got to Goree Island we had to almost run through the tour in order to make the last Ferry back. I would have liked to have spent more time there. It is the place they took all the slaves from Western Africa to be held until they were shipped to Europe or the Americas. It was deplorable. They would pack rooms full of men. They had to squat side by side all day for three months. They were let out once a day to eat and go to the bathroom. They were beaten, starved, and horribly mistreated. It was their way of weeding out the weak ones. The young virgin girls were the ones who had it the best. They had larger quarters, but still just a large cement room they all shared. The front of the room is where the mercenaries would come and sleep with the girls. If you got pregnant, you were lucky. They would take the baby after it was born and then let the mother go free.

The island has now become a tourist location for Europeans and an artist haven. It would have been nice to spend some time there and buy some of the local art. As it was, we barely made the ferry back to Dakar. It was getting late and we had a difficult time finding a taxi to the market. Fode was worried about us being in the market after dark. We decided to walk from the dock. I was so glad. After being in bed for two days, then crammed in a bus, it was great to be outside and get some exercise.

The market was crazy. I’m not a big shopper and don’t care much for souvenirs. It was nice to experience the market, but I didn’t really want to hang out and shop. However, being in a group, you have to just go with the flow a little. We had a good time. Allison cracked me up. That girl can shop. She was ready to cut a deal at every turn. We got back to our hotel quite late. I remember the beds in Dakar being more comfortable than they are. We are staying at the same hotel, and in the same room as before. I think I must have thought it was so luxurious because I’d spend the previous two nights on an airplane. The bed is hard and small, but it is closer to home, which makes it wonderful. I hope when I get home and get some time between me and the trip that I will remember more than just being miserably sick. As it is right now, I don’t ever want to travel again. The adventure has been sucked right out of me. I want to go back and be one of those prissy girls, who I used to mock because they have to curl her hair and stay in a four star hotel. Sign me up.

Tuesday, December 31, 2002

New Year’s Eve. We left Dakar early in the morning and I am so happy to report that we had no problems on our flight home (except they showed the same movie on both flights- once in French, once in English). The ride was so comfortable compared to the bus ride from Koussanar to Dakar. Everything is relative. The same seats were miserable on the way there, but welcome on the way home. I was so happy to arrive in New York. The last five days were so long, I didn’t think I’d ever make it back to the U.S. We went to Julie’s place. She is gone for the holidays- back in Colorado with the family- so we have her place to ourselves. Well almost ourselves. She has cats. I really don’t understand the desire people have to share their homes with animals.

We got to her place in upper Manhattan about 3:30. I took a shower, put on fresh clothes and was surprised at how much energy it gave me. Being clean is nice. Al wanted to nap for a little while so I watched TV and called my parents. It was strange calling home. How do I even begin to explain the last couple weeks of my life.

Times Square was our plan to ring in the new year, so about 9:00 we headed out. It was quite an ordeal getting there. I was impressed with the police and security. It was tight, but well organized. There was only one subway stop we could get off and then we were in a line about 3 blocks long. It kept moving and everyone got patted down before being let in to Times Square. Well, it actually wasn’t Times Square. By the time we got there, it was completely filled. They left a block buffer around Times Square, and we were at the front of the next block. We could see the ball in Times Square, but I have no idea what went on there. It was still very crowded where we were. People were drunk and flashing, etc. Allison and I were just exhausted. We kept looking at our watches, looking at the ball, and hoping time would go by quickly. Midnight came, the ball dropped, we watched the fireworks and headed home. Allison fell asleep on the subway.

Sleeping at Julie’s was hilarious. It was a constant battle trying to keep the cats out of the bedroom. I am allergic so having them on the bed was not an option. Julie’s door didn’t close tight, so we had to build elaborate barricades to keep them out. We’d turn off the lights and then the scratching on the door began. We laughed that we were finally experiencing the wildlife we thought we’d see in Africa. A couple times in the night, we’d both wake up and one of us would say, “they’re in”. Then we’d find them, kick them out and rebuild the blockade.

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

We went shopping in the morning. Macy’s after Christmas sale. I had saved some birthday money to get a coat and some things while here. New York seemed like such a great idea when we were planning the trip, but I’m not sure it was the wisest thing to do. I still get sick when I eat, which is okay, that would be the case at home. The big problem is dealing with culture shock. I didn’t experience it going over, but am overwhelmed upon my return. The contrast of cultures makes my head spin. I’ve never felt so blessed and so ashamed for everything we have and take for granted. I think most about the food and how undernourished they are- especially the children. I know that Senegal is quite modern compared to much of Africa and I am appalled at the inequality in this world.

I was excited that I could choose anything I wanted for lunch. We went to the food center in Macy’s. I got a big piece of lasagna. Big mistake. I took one bite and had to go to the bathroom. Then what was I to do? I had all this food I couldn’t eat. It’s always a joke that parent’s tell their kids to eat their food because children are starving in Africa, but it takes on a whole new meaning now. I came back from the bathroom and Allison was about in tears. She had been watching everyone go by with all their packages. It really is overwhelming to realize how much we have and take for granted.

There was a sign in the hallway of Julie’s apartment that said, “It is illegal not to recycle”. Another big contrast with Africa- one I am grateful for!! Usually a sign like that would get a “settle down” reaction from me. Now I’m just glad people care about what’s happening to our waste instead of throwing it on the ground.

That night we went to a Broadway show. We saw Thoroughly Modern Millie. I was a little nervous because I love the old version and they changed all the songs and the ending. I loved it (except the new ending). Broadway never disappoints.

Thursday, January 2, 2003

We got up and went to Chinatown so Allison could again use those negotiation skills. Neither of us were really into it. Then it was to the airport to go home.

Now I’m back and had some time to let all of this sink in. The sickness has faded and I mostly remember those cute faces of the kids at school and in the market. However, I’m still feeling leery of international travel. I’m happy to spend a year domestically and save some money.