You know in the movies (the cliche ones), where a girl finally leaves home, to probably go to college in a different state and be the independent woman that she has always wanted to be? She is usually seated by the window, smiling, happy at the prospect of finally experiencing something different from what she has known most of her life. You know what I am talking about, you’ve watched a couple of them. That was me, except, I wasn’t going to college. I was leaving Uganda, for Senegal, for CorpsAfrica’s Exchange Volunteer program. Exciting, right? The smile I wore the day I departed was quite questionable because one would think that I was a little too happy to be away from home.

Reality hit me right after we landed in Senegal. NOTHING (emphasis on nothing) was written in English, not even the signs! It then dawned on me, after several hours of flying, that I was in fact, miles away from home. Getting a bus or a boda boda back home, if at all things got too hard for me was not an option. No one spoke English. Back in school, we were taught that the language barrier was the downfall of several initiatives in history. I never really thought much of it until I realized that it was about to become my downfall too. In just a few minutes, my head was already aching because I could not comprehend anything! I learned some French in school, but the bits I could recall were only enough to get me what to eat and drink.

Ever heard of the comfort, panic, and growth zone? You can already tell which zone I was in. If this is how hard it was for me to communicate in an international language, how would it be then, if it came to the local language? (Wolof), I thought to myself. Several questions flooded my mind;

“What am I even doing here?” “Who sent me here?” “Wait, could it be that I was more excited about the flight than the actual arrival?”. I could go on and on.

I had to compose myself though because was I not the same person who wore such a big smile while I was leaving Uganda? I was ready for what had brought me to the “Land of Teranga.” This was true until I was taken to a host family. The purpose of being in a host family is to ease the process of integration as a Volunteer. By being with the host families, we (the Volunteers) can slowly by slowly learn the language, understand the culture, and also most obviously, be easily identified and protected while we are in the communities.

Here is the thing though, as much as someone tells you what to expect, nothing ever prepares anyone for cultural shock. You learn on the job because we experience things differently. I was moving back and forth, from one cultural shock to another;

For starters, when I got to my host family, I could not speak more than 10 words, in the local language, which even I, was surprised about because I could swear, I attended all my Wolof language classes. I couldn’t even remember how to properly talk about myself. However, I could remember two very important words, “Waw” (Yes) and “Deedeet” (No). For the rest of the conversations, I would simply nod my head in whichever direction I could find, to show that I was understanding every word they were saying. (I understood absolutely nothing!). I know, I looked like a clown at that moment. Later on, a few more words started coming back to me- “begg naa” (I want…), “sopp naa” (I like…) “degguma” (I don’t understand). Along with my sign language, those would take me through the week while I figured out why I could barely remember a language I had studied for a month or so. 

Secondly, my host family gave me a Senegalese name “Mbayang Mbaye”. At first, I didn’t understand why they couldn’t call me by my name. With time, however, I got to learn that it was for the sake of easy identification and integration- a way to show that I was part of the family. Even though it took me a while to get used to it, I came to love it. It has a nice ring to it if you pronounce it like you are trying to sing.

When it came to eating, we all had to eat from the same bowl, something I had not experienced before. And then, there was the heat too. From both the weather and the pepper in food, profuse sweating became a part of me. I noticed too, that the older people in the families drew closer to me after I befriended the children. This later became a strategy for me, to easily integrate, because once you are loved by older people too, integration is only a walkover. The people will do whatever they can to make things easier for you (me). Teranga, no?

I found it quite interesting that right after meals (lunch and dinner) my host family would make a certain kind of tea “attaya”. I have yet to find out why Senegalese people take hot tea right after a hot meal on a hot day. 

Generally, all this was not only new to me but also quite challenging to get used to. The point is, whereas change is hard and may at times present us with what we do not expect, it always comes with unforgettable experiences. In just a short period, I have made friends and also learned several things about the Senegalese culture. 

• The naming ceremony for example (ngente), is a joyous celebration with lots of dancing and eating. 
• Senegalese people also care about other people’s well-being even though they do not know them. For instance, several people in the community knew me by name, even though I had no idea who they were. 
• I cannot talk about the culture and leave out the food. There are several dishes in Senegal, that I found quite interesting, such as the popular Thiebou jenn (rice and fish), Thiebou yap (Rice and meat), and my personal favorite contrary to some people, yasa! (Basically, rice and onion sauce). 

I could go on and on about my experience so far but that would turn out to be a novel instead. I still have a couple of months here and I am excited about the prospect of learning more about Senegal, its people, and its culture.