i wonder what love can possibly mean in this culture. a culture in which my immersion has brought a new guy every single day who either thinks i’m beautiful, wants my number, or tells me he loves me.

a culture where boredom breeds polygamy sanctioned by islam.

a culture in which a good marriage means the wife cooks cleans raises the children and is sexy for her husband. and despite these things, perhaps another wife will do. where adultery is okay for me, but condemned for women.

it brings me to ask- what is love in this culture?

and whats more, in our own culture, as i have said before- we have lost sight in the hope of love. love in marriage, but also love for others, and love for ourselves.

as i have become more accustomed to life here, it is more difficult to know what to say and my journal pages have remained remarkably more empty. there is less motivation to write when things that would have shocked me before become what i expect.

things that i would never ordinarily do, i do without a second thought. though i miss many things, i do not miss them to the point of sadness. it is strange to watch the developement of pessimism and sorrow in some of the people i traveled here with. where i feel like i would normally see myself, i see others.

i have been very in tune with others recently, and our struggle to connect with one another. the way that we tear each other apart with our words and how very alike we all are in our struggle to live and to survive- all sharing a desire to be connected, to fill canyons that remain in our souls. though i recognize that such voids occur as a result of being disconnected from God, even as christians, we can be disconnected from ourselves, from each other, and from God as well.

i hope to think more about such things in the months to come- but for now it remains an after thought in this blog.

yesterday, we traveled three hours inward to visit Touba, the holy city of the Mouride Islamic sect, founded by Cheikh Amadou Bamba. the mosque is beautiful, being the largest mosque in sub-saharan africa, and thousands upon thousands make pilgrimages there. i could appreciate the beauty of the mosque- decorated moroccan style, but i found it very difficult to enjoy being in the mosque, or even in the city.

speaking of morocco, it is much to my amusement that i think i know every moroccan who lives in this city. okay exaggeration- but i do have three moroccan friends (three more than anyone else on the trip). my hope is to spend some time with one of them next week to speak french and teach him “american” as he put it.

upon meeting a senegalese person, i often get the question “how do you find senegal?”
i always find this question hard to answer.

“oh yeah, you know, its kinda nice, i wish my loved ones were here with me though to help chase the nasty cock roaches out of my bathroom”

or what about, “before i came here i hated fish and now i eat it every single day”

or even “im never actually clean because the freezing cold shower clogs my pores with dirt and whats more, i detest washing my underwear with my hands while i shower”

in all seriousness, senegal- dakar especially, is nice and it is said that dakar is the paris of west africa. its more like paris while she’s at summer camp. but it is fine. the beaches that i have visited have been beautiful- semi-clear water with a mean undertow, yet the sun still sparkles across the water. while the rest of the northeasterners melt in the sun and humidity, my texan skin merely feels rejuvenated.

though i did not come with many expectations (as i have heard is best), the one expectation i did have has been let down. i came expecting to be speaking oodles of french. instead, i spend most of time (as designed by the program) with the people from BU. i dont have all these senegalese friends and i rarely see my family.

i am not complaining because maman has an accent that is very difficult to understand and often hurts my feelings. remy and cynthia however have taken to teasing me by locking the door right before i walk in, taking the chocoleca (absolutely magnificent knock off of nutella), or pushing me around as if their own. unfortunately they will be leaving june 30 to visit their parents in south africa for the summer. i am sad they will be leaving but perhaps i will spend more time talking kambey.

though family relations have not developed much, i have physically watched God change my heart and attitude ande have seen relationships developed that i would not have expected. it is amazing to me to see how what i read, either in the Bible or whatever i am reading, has been active in what i am learning in life right now.

something to think about, as i have been doing for a few days:

“Sexy is when it feels good to be in your own skin. Your own body feels right, it feels comfortable. Sexy is when you love being you.”