Crazy Adventures in the Life of a Redhead

Not only did I spend my final days in Senegal visiting my friends and host family members, but I also attended a two-day wedding celebration. The groom is one of my friends from the Beer-Sheba project and he invited me to enjoy the celebration with his friends, family and neighbors. I knew that it would be quite the affair because my friend knows a lot of people and is highly regarded in his community, but the number of attendees and the amount of dancing surprised me. We danced for nearly two days straight although I pooped out the first night at midnight and the second night at 10:30 pm. I am not used to Serer wedding celebrations! What I loved most was the tradition of waiting for the bride to arrive. Both the bride and the groom have their own separate parties the day before the actual wedding ceremony, with the bride arriving at some point late in the evening or early in the morning to join her bridegroom. The fascinating point is that the groom does not know when his ...

  How despicable is violence! It turns what is charming and peaceful into something deformed and repugnant. Even the threat of violence creates a tense environment not easily ignored. In the past 10 years the Ivory Coast has undergone ongoing war and rebellion and a multitude of various attacks on the armed forces, refugees and the general population. Easy to comprehend is the manner in which people remain suspicious of one another and the way in which commerce, agriculture and tourism have suffered dramatically in the wake. Once a thriving West African country, endowed with natural and cultural riches beneficial to the locals and international consumers—bananas, cocoa and coffee and main and substantial exports from Ivory Coast—and bedecked with a cultural heritage fascinating for the curious tourist. Tourism is practically dead; very few people other than those working for the myriad of non-governmental organizations dare venture into this ravishing country....

Farming is a continual process that concerns life and death in a rhythmic and unpredictable cycle, dependant on forces only God understands. I so appreciated learning about the work I could do to ensure the health of my plants and the soil while putting my faith in the work that God mysteriously accomplishes as small seeds grow into large plants or trees that give life to the earth and to its rulers. I pulled weeds, planted trees, watered sprouts, harvested okra and finished translating the book I had started last time I spent with Beer-Sheba. Everything I undertook or was asked to look after, I completed with zest and joy. Being a creator of life in a world so bent on destruction and on inflicting immense pain on others, I found peace in immersing my strength in the restoration of the land and my heart in the pursuit of my Savior Jesus Christ. As a parting whisper of hope, I saw my garden plants sprouting and felt grateful for the ability to have cared for a small slice of this ...

I took after them running—literally, I hiked up my tunic and jolted after the animals: the cows were out of the gate and stampeding towards their end, well, towards the marketplace. I never imagined that bringing cows to a village market would be a part of my repertoire of adventures here in Senegal, but I can jot this experience onto the list of sublime, frustrating, fascinating, lovely and extraordinaire elements that I have seen and lived through in the past year. After eating some freshly baked bread—delicious bread— from our earthy outdoor oven, I went to see the herder that we hired and the interns as they attempted to tie and round up seven fattened cattle.                                       Here in Senegal, no matter where you go, with the exception of the cities, you w...

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...