the past few days have been a whirlwind of wonderfulness. for the most part. life with maman is very rocky, but every other aspect is astounding. i’m not even sure where to begin.

sunday was another day at the beach as well as the commencement of a relationship that i have sincerely enjoyed. through a friend of a friend i somehow became friends with adama- an artist and musician from burkina faso, traveling across the continent with his american friend. he has lived a life that i can’t even imagine and is willing to talk about everything. to go beyond the normalities of food, electricity, and other basic conversation. skin color, religion, race issues, africa, america, family, hard times, values, thoughts, life. it is refreshing to once again truly
communicate- to be honest and vulnerable. i didnt even realize how much i miss heart to heart conversation. unfortunately, he and sam are leaving to continue on their journey cross continent, and the long talks will cease. however, it is something i have cherished for the past three or so days.

monday night may have very well been one of my favorite evenings thus far. mostly because i took a tour of the entire city at night via motorcycle. there is a moroccan medical student who lives in an apartment a couple of buildings over from my house who provided for such an occasion. though, as you can imagine, it was a bit comical in that he does not speak english, my french is shoddy, and our conversation took place while riding a motorcycle through the city. it is good because since he does not speak english, french is the only method for communication and i can practice and learn from someone who is very patient and speaks very slowly for me.

though those two relationships have occured, i feel comfortable with almost everyone on the boston trip, and comfortable with cynthia (my host sister) and kambey, things with maman are worse. four weeks into this thing and i still cant understand her accent. whats worse is that the only conversations we have had since sunday have been ones in which she is angry at me. angry because i said her house wasnt my house, angry because when i was walking up the stairs i didnt say hi and i’m not a very nice person, angry because i didnt take her to the tailor and ask her where i should go, angry because i have a moroccan friend who i explained is not a boyfriend, and my personal favorite- angry because when i went to the bathroom at 2 am the other night, opening the door woke her up. her last american in her house was nice, she was quite, she was great. i’m the brat from texas who can’t speak french and always makes her angry.

as if that wasnt enough, the kids are leaving for south africa on monday (where their parents live) and i will be alone. i think that kambey said she would stay with me that week, after much begging and pleading, so if that happens, i will not longer be alone with maman. i don’t understand what i did that upset her so much, perhaps something else is going on. perhaps she is angry because the past four or five nights i have been out later than usual, but i do pay to stay at her house, and it should be understood that i have independance. today during check in, some people at the baobab center said that if it gets worse and i am having a really hard time i can go to a different house. i dont want to offend maman, but i am thinking about confronting her and hoping that things get better. if only i can get up the courage. but not just courage, i also need to somehow figure out what i need to say in french.

on a ten times more exciting note, this friday i am going to visit Fatou- the six year old little girl that I sponsor through World Vision!!! i’m not even exactly sure what happened, but through multiple emails and a quickened process, i ended up with this opportunity. someone from the World Vision office is going to drive me to the village on friday, which is about 150 kilometers from Dakar. i am excited and nervous at the same time. i am so blessed to have this opportunity.

monday, in my sabar class- we began to learn the dance. my body does not move as i will it. try as i might, my legs just will not turn into spaghetti that i may flail them about at the same time as circling my arms and shaking my hips. be thankful (or maybe sad) that you can not see us try. there is the specific dance called the “ventilateur” which in french means- electric fan. if you cant imagine what that might be like, just know that really the only part of your body that moves is your, how should i say this, backside. it is quite a trick that ventilateur. though the senegalese sabar dance is virtually impossible for us tubaabs, it sure is fun.

oh yeah, i apparently have a senegalese husband. the man who has the fruit stand right in front of my house, who knows i can’t speak wolof, did happen to point to me and say “suma jabar” meaning “my wife” when he was talking to my friend dena. it tickled him to realize that i understood what that meant when i shook my head to say noooo i’m not.

some cultural observations:
-half of the women here wear wigs and are not ashamed to take it off at any moment, especially when jumping onto the floor for some intense sabar drumming.
-sunday is beach day. no joke- hundreds upon hundreds of people crowding the water.
-people don’t assume you are from america. people are always inquiring what country i come from. which naturally makes me feel better about my french.

though i havent seen a cockroach in my house in quite some time, i am convinced there is a souris (mouse) who lives under my bed. though i have never seen him, he is there. it began with a reeses in my suitcase that was half-eaten by some critter. then later that night, when i was chillen in my room i heard rustling in my suitcase. this was actually one of the most pleasureable experiences with kambey as i was freaking out and we tried to find it, but it escaped. now, i am content with it living under my bed, so long as the electricity doesn’t go out at night before i go to bed. that’s when im scared because i wouldnt know he came out until he bit my toes, and by that time, it’d be too late.