Crazy Adventures in the Life of a Redhead

One summer, I decided to weed the garden at my dad’s house because it had gotten so bad that we could no longer see the flowers in the bed. I think I spent about five hours cleaning it up, and I was very happy with the results. A couple days later I left on a three-week trip to Lithuania with a team from my church. When I came back, the weeds had mostly returned, and I was so discouraged that I never tried gardening again—until this week. I think it is funny how life changes; how one goes through periods marked by different sorts of activities and passions. Some phases continue throughout one’s life and some pass with rapidity. I think that gardening has become indelibly a part of my cornucopia of interests. Having never really planted anything in my life, I had very little knowledge of how to start. Thankfully I observe well and I retain what I read; so with the few articles I have read about planting and what I have observed at Beer-Sheba, I commenced my gardeni...

  If I were to ask anyone in Senegal to tell me the dirtiest place in the country, he/she would say without fail “Kaolack.” Back in November, when I first traveled to Kaolack, I did not think much of the rubbish and the flies because most of Senegal is full of litter and dotted with unkempt alleyways and small side streets. Returning to Kaolack for a few days this past week, I realized that the city is a most unpleasant place to live. The flies are terrible—almost unbearable—and now in the rainy season, there are so many mosquitoes, I needed my fan to swat them away—even in the house. Fortunately, I know some lovely people in Kaolack; otherwise I would never return.  I spent three days with GRADES, an organization I wrote about at the start of my time in Senegal. I had spent two weeks with them to help write their strategic plan. They asked me to be the sponsor of their polyvalent training center’s graduation ceremony for the 9 th and 10 th groups of...

The week flashed like lightening as I went about my tasks in the fields, the garden and the new dormitory that we rushed to clean and organize before a group of 11 Korean people came to visit us. I spent Monday and Tuesday scrubbing the bathrooms over and over again to scrape off the cement and paint that the careless construction workers left caked to the door frames, walls and floors. Our new building already has door handle problems (I locked myself in the bathroom, for instance, and had to climb out of the window to exit), plumbing issues and was built crookedly. Expecting a job well done here in Senegal is like waiting for a bus that never comes; good enough is their motto and well done is not in their vocabulary. I felt pleased with my work and know that I have made my small mark on the history of Beer-Sheba doing what I can to improve the property and the farm. I suppose  that is what my all-encompassing goal during these short stays at project sites a...

Capturing the Beer-Sheba team Well, I have never seen Meryl Streep or Robert Redford grace the premises of Beer-Sheba, but I have no doubt that Karen Blixen, the woman who wrote Out of Africa , would have been in awe working at this particular 225-acre farm in Senegal. What I love most about a living, functioning farm is the fact that it changes frequently. I find myself comparing the changes in Beer-Sheba to the developmental differences I have seen in my little nephew Bennett since he was born. Each week that I see him, I remark upon something that has recently formed in his character or his physical appearance. He never stays the same. Beer-Sheba, as I imagine all dynamic farms to be, transforms from one week to the next.  Moringa field I faithfully continued my weeding in my small section of the okra field and expanded my weeding efforts to our moringa field. Our okra plants are growing well, and we think that our first harvest should happen wi...

I wish I had taken pictures of the flowering okra fields or my field of Moringa trees that are growing splendidly after having planted them the last time I was at Beer-Sheba in March. Having concentrated on my weed-picking work, I did not even take one moment to capture the vegetative growth occurring at one of my favorite places on earth. Maybe picking weeds sounds tedious—and it certainly is not the most glorifying work—but it is necessary, and I was certainly happy to have a job assigned to me that would take a lot of physical work and endurance. I spent about 20 hours on my knees this week pulling up blasted grass and vines that have invaded our okra field. My goal is to be a part of whatever the project desires of my hands and skill set. I am blessed to be a part of a group that welcomes any help and has no problem delegating tasks to those who are willing to work. I think back to how I met the team of Beer-Sheba. The Director of Ministry and Service at North Central...

current progress on the center A friend from college who is now a teacher at the Milwaukee Montessori School (MMS) found out that I was living and studying in Senegal. She told me that her school had started a project in Senegal three years ago in one of her colleague’s villages and wondered if I would be interested in doing some follow-up research on the progress they had made and what work would remain to be done in the future. I was immediately willing, and we started to discuss details about the project. As a researcher, one of my favorite aspects is developing a work plan then seeing it come to fruition as I fill in the notions I had possessed with facts from what I experienced and observed. There are always many surprises—generally good and sometimes challenging. Unfortunately, the Zuiginchor/Dakar ferryboat was under repair the dates of my trip to Casamance. I was obligated to take the road, opting to take a night bus on the way there and a 7-seater hatchback on...

Making fried chicken was never one of my culinary goals—I hate frying food—until one of my Senegalese brothers requested this “typical” American recipe. I asked my mom to bring from the U.S. an enormous can of Crisco ®—apparently makes the best fried chicken—which we used to fry pieces of freshly plucked chicken, eviscerated of all the many parts Americans never consider when buying a whole chicken at the supermarket. What I love most about Senegal is how raw the eating conditions can be from time to time. I perceive that Americans are much too disconnected from the alimentary processes of daily living: we buy meat nicely wrapped and packaged with no idea where it has come from; our vegetables look and taste like wax because the image of what looks nice must be upheld; we live in a disinfected bubble with our fear of germs. My refrain was, “Mom, just don’t think about it.” Sometimes when faced with differences in cultural eating habits in Senegal, it is best to sit do...