My mom writes the following of her visit to Africa...
. “Adventure of a lifetime” is so clique, but this was truly one.
Arriving at the airport in Dakar, Senegal is an experience I wish no one. It was very dark out with hundreds of people that want you, (of course something I am very used to ), but these people wanted your money, any amount possible and would do anything to get it.
Apparently Bill had not read the memo not to speak to anyone, but his sketchy new friend took us to an even sketchier, broken down van, to take us to the Hotel. That wasn’t going to happen. I literally made Bill run back to our safety zone.. Inside the airport, where a nice policeman sternly told us not to leave this spot and if we need anything to call a policeman. After a torturous hour someone finally came from the hotel to retrieve us.
The Hotel, outside of Dakar on the coast was lovely. Very resort like right on the ocean. It was hard to get me out of the hotel. Constantly facing the sellers and beggars got exhausting very quick. Our first ventures out were to explore the city of Dakar and then take the ferry to the Island of Goree. Our first steps on the streets involved a beautiful little boy begging for money. Emily promptly looked in his cup and exclaimed he had more money than hed know what to do with anyway, and he should really be in school at that hour. (She’s good). We sat in a cafe and had coffee and pastries. We shortly realized this is what mom needed to get her bearings. We visited the inside of the cathedral and walked down to the president’s house. From there, we got the ferry to Goree. The gentleman sitting next to Bill on the ferry, I thought was just being friendly till we got there and he offered a tour if we paid him. At first, being totally put off I said no, but then thought twice, and it was a great tour. The island, also like the other island we visited, N’gor was beautiful: Goree, full of the history of the Slave trade and N’Gor a sandy beach. Both Islands had plenty of merchants with various items to sell. Being on the beach took the pressure away, and we were able to relax a bit, and enjoy some fresh fruit from the vendors, a little wine for mom and some very fresh shrimp for Dad.
Arriving at the beach for the boat for N’Gor was another experience, settled only by finding a nice hotel that I could sit, regroup and get some coffee. Once again, mom just needs a minute. The long thin canoe shaped boat held about 50 people, along with baskets of fruits and vegetables and of course merchants .Although we were taking on a whole lot of water throughout the 15 minute ride we arrived safe and sound.
Due to my respect for my husband and daughter, I will not discuss the “stolen ” wallet and jewelry case. As the swat team from the Hotel began the investigation, I chose to ignore the entire situation and have a little breakfast.
Flying to Bamako, another horrible airport, but the difference now is we have an interpreter who not only is fluent in the language but is fully immersed in the culture and traditions of the Malian people. We checked into our hotel, The Radisson, in the heart of the city but with beautiful eclectic African décor. We changed and quickly got into a cab, (this one was Post WWII, a nice change from some cabs we took in Dakar), that took us the Peace Corp Office. Finally, Bill and I were able to put pictures to all the words and illustrations to our imagination.
We met Emily friends, at the American bar around the corner, a Peace Corps hangout An absolutely great group of kids that share a common bond so unique, it can only be described as extraordinary. Then love each other, play and work with each other, talk over ideas, share experiences and most importantly take care of each other.
We gathered about 12 of them and headed out to dinner. A great Malian restaurant: full of atmosphere, music, cold beer, and lots of fun. We got a couple of cabs after dinner and headed back to the Radisson, for more laughs in our room.
Saturday we were off to the Village of Dombia. Emily found a friend of the luggage guys at the hotel, who had a cousin who know a neighbor who had a car they MAY make it all the way to the Village.. Here we go……The driver arrived and the car was not in real bad shape.. Bill and I in the back ,sharing one “removable” handle for each of our windows and Emily in the front, talking and laughing with our driver the whole way. The roads are ok till you get farther out of the city only to find no roads to get to her village.. Before we arrive in Dombila we drive through Kati a small city with people who surround your car to sell you things. Emily has named this the drive through market. With it being 100 degrees and having the windows open the sellers quickly put there arms in the open windows to make a sale. Holy smokes, talk about anxiety. (Another incident proving that God was right to make prescription medication) It was a bit frightening and very claustrophobic. We drove through the Village of Dio where Emily’s closet Volunteer is to her sight and a great friend, Caroline lives. This is where public transportation ends and Emily needs to ride her bike the rest of the way. Very few cars travel out this far and the car merely takes a long path, between some trees and open desert to get there.
From the minute we arrived in her Village, the warmth of the Malian people was everywhere. The kids from far down the path saw us arrive and ran behind the car till it came to a stop near her home (hut). They quickly removed our luggage from the car and ran to Emily’s hut. For the next 3 days, villagers came from everywhere to shake our hand (they don’t hug) and welcome us. They said over and over, how grateful they were that we had come. These people have absolutely nothing, but they are the most genuine, loving people we have ever met. They adore Emily, protect and respect her. Her host mom is a riot and keeps her in line better then I ever did. The un spoken words between us as mothers was amazing. She is a wonderful woman. I trust her with my daughter, enough said.
The children of the village were beautiful, fun and a little intimidated. They had gotten used to Emily, but bringing two more white people to the village was somewhat scary for them. The majority, however were so sweet and unbelievably respectful. The family unit is very tight. Rarely did we see siblings argue or fight, we saw 9 year olds watching out for 7 yr olds. We saw 7 yr olds carrying babies on their back. Teenage girls would never think of not doing their load of chores, or what was expected of them.
The first night in Village the xylophone players from the neighboring Village came to play at a welcoming party for us. We gave them gifts of macaroni, tea and sugar. There were at least 200 hundred villagers all dressed up and dancing into the wee hours. I wore a traditional skirt (pange?) and danced with Emily’s homologue Irene. Never would I have imagined. They brought chairs for us and Bill and I and we were treated like royalty all evening. The next night we tried to introduce her family to s’mores, not the Malians first idea of a treat. The texture of the crackers was tough. They eat mostly soft food; many of them have only a few teeth.
During the days we would walk the Village with Em. She constantly amazed us with her language skills and projects she is developing. The Village people listen so intently to her and look at her with such promise, for Bill and I, it was more than fulfilling. Presently she is working on two water sanitation projects. She conducts meetings with the Village people and both men and women come and share ideas and hope. Emily is steadfast on her wish to have the Villagers own these projects. If you teach a man to fish type thing.
They need to contribute, time or money for all of the projects. For the doni, doni style of the Malians this is quite a task.
We’ve never seen Emily so confident and happy. She is so grateful for all of the support she receives from everyone. We are truly blessed to have you as friends and family.
Thank you.
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