Excerpts from Danielle Dubois Flax’s Letters from Dakar, Senegal:

Choosing to go to Senegal: I chose Senegal at first because I was more scared of how I would feel if I didn't choose it...It looked like an opportunity that I couldn't reasonably pass up, going to Africa in an effort to understand something about a people with a culture that was so rich, and so devastated by poverty and neglect. Although my parents have often exposed my brother and me to African culture (e.g., my mother playing me African CDs when I was a baby, reading me African tales, etc.) I think the reality of their child actually going there was a little bit of a shock—they weren’t sure if they could send their only girl, the baby, to Africa to learn about life… Still, they never attempted to inhibit my decision or persuade me otherwise.

Study abroad is hard work: I knew it would be hard work to spend six months in Africa, but what does that mean, “hard work"? I found out it included working hard on courses, on myself, on adaptation, on being a good Senegalese Muslim daughter, on being a respectful cultural observer…

First impressions of Dakar: When I first arrived in Senegal, I noticed the sweat, and the odors… We rumbled through Dakar, a lighted bus full of white girls, watching the women in pagnes (wraparound skirts) with huge bowls of water and rice on their heads, children crouched next to the gutter, looking up at us with huge round eyes, fingering their worn flip-flops and swatting the flies.

Fitting in with my host family: I love my host family. In fact it is the weirdest sensation, becoming a part of another family. I understand that I am not a real member of their family, but we all feel incredibly comfortable around each other now. The night I arrived, a good chunk of my family (7 brothers, 2 sisters plus about a thousand uncles, aunts, cousins and friends) were all sitting in front of the house, making attiya (traditional tea, very sugary, served in small shot glasses with foam on top). We all talked until late. I found that by joking around with them (the key to Senegalese communication is having a vivacious sense of humor) they were almost immediately at ease with me. They were incredibly curious, wanting to know everything from my middle name, to how long the golden gate bridge is, to why I want to be musician in life…

Adventures in eating: At first, the food was hard to take—rice and fish ALL the time, spicy with no water during meals. However, after a while, I became used to it, changing from my random mealtimes at school to very regular meals with the whole family three times a day, almost no snacks and no dessert, except for the occasional mango or apple. Now I crave Thieboudienne (the Senegalese national dish) instead of dreading it, and I understand how the family functions at meal times, and other times as well. I did have one experience at the beach with my family that I won’t forget. We had a picnic at a beach called Les Almadies, and managed to bring two recently executed lambs with us. We grilled a lot of it, and they passed around pieces to me with huge chunk of gristle that I was supposed to swallow like everyone else. Then came the brochettes (kebabs), which were excellent. Then, came the soup. The soup was the part I had trouble with—the whole lamb head, eyes and all was floating around in a yellow-watery broth, with the fat rising to the top. It also included the stomach wrapped in the intestines, the lungs, the heart, the liver and kidneys---I had to decline for this one, which they didn’t really understand… I had to explain several times that I had eaten too much earlier… Afterwards, they all drank lait caillé, which I again had to decline from drinking—it’s basically curdled milk! In any case, I learned a lot. The next time we all went out to Les Almadies for the picnic, I knew exactly what to do and not to do, and I enjoyed myself in any case.

The importance of speaking Wolof: Most Senegalese people LOVE it when you speak in Wolof—it really shows that you are trying to integrate, and that you respect the culture that was here before the colonists came. As a Toubab [white person], one who resembles the same race of people who invaded this region to hunt for slaves, who dismembered the tribal infrastructure with the slave trade and rendered the society an impotent colony, Senegalese people see it as a sign of respect when a Toubab attempts to preserve their culture. It is also a really beautiful-sounding language to me now, where at first it was grating and annoying because I couldn’t understand anything. Now, it’s exciting and intriguing because I can. I can't believe that I’ve only been here for a month and a half--I have learned more than in a year at home. It’s fascinating.

African time: Time here in Senegal has become somewhat of an odd concept to me now. I had heard before I came that things move slower here, from others who had studied here. What an understatement. People take long naps after lunch, and the phrase Inch Allah (God willing) seems to allow people to be as lazy and unpunctual and irresponsible as possible. This is may be a bad influence for someone who already has problems with procrastination and laziness, as I do.

Cultural differences: Another thing I still cannot get used to is the Senegalese tendency to minimize problems. The third week of my stay here I got really sick. I was throwing up and crying at the same time, two things which immediately put Senegalese people in states of extreme discomfort. For me it was extremely difficult to be in a new house, with new people, with bathrooms situated right in the center of activity in the house, so that everyone could hear what I was doing…After each time I would throw up, I would retreat back to my room and lie down on my bed. I would find in a matter of minutes up to 5 people around my bed, trying to comfort me, but at the same time trying to convince me or themselves that I was fine. Which I was not. At the thought of my mother taking care of me, cooing over me like I was used to, the tears came even faster. Tears are NEVER a good sign in Senegal. It scares everyone. I just wanted to call my mom so that she could talk to me while I was sick, to make me feel better. At this suggestion, everyone in my host family freaked out even more. They didn’t want my own parents to find out that I wasn’t doing as well as usual; my sickness might reflect poorly on their ability to take care of me. I understood that they were all worried about me, but they kept saying, “It will pass”, or “It’s not that bad, right?”

Others have confirmed for me that Senegalese people will always try to minimize a problem, no matter how serious it is. In a way, its extremely positive and optimistic, but it still doesn’t feel natural to me. In the United States, if we feel sick or sad, people usually express sympathy; even though you know that they aren’t really sorry, it makes you feel better somehow, because they are acknowledging your hardship. We Americans seem to need someone to notice our problems, and then we feel better. Almost all of the Senegalese people I know are careful about expressing their feelings too freely. From what I understand, they act this way to refrain from burdening others with their problems, because it will inevitably cause others to suffer as well. Every time I am sick, someone says to me, « Il ne faut pas que tu tombes malade Danielle, sinon moi aussi je vais tomber malade » or « Il ne faut pas pleurer Danielle, sinon moi aussi je vais pleurer ». It obliges the suffering person to wipe away the tears, swallow the sickness, whatever you have to do in order to save others from feeling your pain. This seems more selfless to me than the American way of coping.