What I've learned this week:

1. Family. On Thursday, I moved in with the Samb family. When I first arrived, I was taken on a whirlwind tour of the family, through 9 rooms and 16 family members. It took all of twenty seconds before I found myself accompanied by three loyal henchmen, aged 2 through 6: Bachir, Ahmed, and Bébé Fa. Two speak some french, the other sits on my lap. There are more uncles than I can count, yet somehow only 2 actually live with us... and one isn't a real uncle. Three aunts with lots of babies and opinions. (Mange! = Eat! ... a common command directed in my direction. Another not so subtle hint: "Do women wear makeup in Colorado?" My bare-faced response: "Yes, many do, but the ones who go to Senegal don't tend to wear as much." ). Grandmère is all I had expected and more. Though I've spent no more than 15 minutes with her since my arrival, I have gathered that she is indeed the African Queen of this household. Truly a sight to behold... a large woman with kind, piercing eyes, lounging on her bed, and more often than not wrapped in beautiful green cloth. Seemingly very popular in the neighborhood, Grandmère generally has visitors fluttering around her as she remains calm, good-humored, and always stationary.
   
2. My new name. Senegalese family name: Nafy Samb. (Na-fee Sahm)It's a hard day when one is not only becoming acquainted with 16 others in another language, but when one must respond to a different name as well.
   
3. Senegal = Paradox. Every morning, after taking a very cold shower (to be read: turn water on, wet self, turn water off, shiver, shampoo, inch away from giant cockroach, wash, turn water on, rinse, turn water off, realize bathroom may in fact belong more to cockroaches than to me, tip toe back to room, make mental note to buy shower shoes.), I then wait in my room for Khady (pronounced "rhahdee") to bring me my warm breakfast. I would expect neither of these experiences at home.
   
4. Mom was right. Recently, (could Colorado really have been that recent?) a wise mother said: "What is life, but a chance to break our hearts open and cry?" If a swollen heart is life, then I am most surely living it. I have never felt more displaced, aimless, uncomfortable and scared than I did on Thursday when I was finally shown to my room. Mind reeling, I shut the door and fell onto my bed, eyes already welling with tears. As my tears fell, I watched the rain fall inside of my room (leaking roofs are just another part of rainy season). What the hell am I doing here? A good question. I grasped desperately for shreds of normalcy in my current situation. I dug through my bag for familiar things. Who would have thought that my alarm clock, a bookmark, a plato quote, my parents' handwriting... could bring me so much comfort? I think I forgot my own humanity as I packed in Colorado... might I otherwise have included a Teddy Bear? So yes. I'm trying hard (and not quite succeeding, as my internet time is running out) to describe to you my biggest moment in Senegal thusfar. Scary. Eye-opening. Soul-searching. Made me finally come down to earth and ask a lot of WHY's. I'm still asking them... answers don't come easily... but I can now confidently say that I am LIVING this life. The good. The bad. The Cockroaches. The priveledge. The self doubt. The inspiration. I'm learning again to put my faith in the divine... and I'm atuning myself to those moments of learning. My first was right there on the bed, when I heard a tap on the window followed by the tiny voice of 6 year old Bachir: "Nafy, tu es ici?"

Oui, Bachir. I am here.