Moondance

I have never encountered a more friendly and giving people. We had the good fortune of really living with Senegalese families, eating meals and sharing responsibilities, but mainly sharing laughter and smiles. I have walked away from this week with addresses and gifts and memories to last a lifetime. The kindness and generosity of the people I encountered was humbling: many of the people we met had next to nothing, but insisted on sharing it with us.

Children learn about sharing at an early age, and many of them - hardly able to walk or talk - already showed signs of their parents' generosity. Delphine, a two-year-old, would eat half her cracker and offer the other half to someone. Every single time. Generosity is ingrained in Senegalese culture like competition plays its part in everything American.

We met Mireille, a young woman whose husband is in the army in Gabon. She lives alone in a small room, equipped with just a bed. She does the cooking out on the balcony, most likely because the hallway is filled with neighboring families doing theirs. Water for bathing comes from a communal spout, put into a bucket that is then brought into a maketshift shower stall. Her life was stripped down to the bare essentials, and I realized while staying with her that, really, that is all one needs. Mireille insisted we sleep on her bed, while she took the floor. There was no arguing with her, we were her guests and she would not have it any other way. After spending a few days at her house, where every morning I woke up to the sounds of goats walking by and children playing, we headed to Mbour, a smaller town north of Dakar.

There we stayed with the family of Laura's (my American friend currently living in Senegal) boyfriend. We sat out on the terrace, telling jokes, drinking tea. On more than one occasion, the men from the family would accompany us out on excursions to be sure we were safe and taken care of. The warmth of this family was overwhelming and humbling.

It was in Mbour that I learned about true relaxation, about the ability to just sit back and enjoy the sun, the conversation, the smell in the air. We would wake up, greet everyone in the morning (in Senegal, greetings and handshakes are the backbone of social manners), sit around for awhile, eat some breakfast, sit around some more, eat lunch, and then eventually motivate to whatever small task we had planned for the day. Even when we did try to move quickly, people in the family always insisted we just sit back and relax a little more, stay home and enjoy some more conversation. It was never hard to convince us to do so.

I could go into the individual stories: the time we ran into Martin on the way to the market, the tailor who called me to wish me "bon voyage" after only having met me the day before, the day I spent two hours outside the house, just watching the goats and children walk by while the rest of the house was taking their afternoon nap. But I know, unfortunately, that telling these stories would never make it clear just how much this trip has changed me. I feel I've seen human kindness on a scale that simply doesn't exist in Europe or the United States. I also know that somewhere we all have the possibility to find this kindness within ourselves, no matter what culture we come from. I just hope I don't forget that, and I don't let the rather unfriendly Parisian attitude keep me from at least incorporating such kindness on a smaller scale in my daily life.

Pictures to come. For right now, despite all the wonders I discovered in Senegal, I am going through a bit of a post-trip depression, complete with a rather nasty reaction to some bacteria I managed to pick up while over there. They warn you about vegetables and water and peeled fruit and everything else under the sun, and rightly so. Something I ate got to me, and I've spent the last 48 hours going from the bed to the toilet and back again. But I feel it's a small price to pay. I'm scared to go back into Paris, where the people are cold and uncaring by comparison. For now, I am happy to remain in bed, remembering the kindness of strangers and smiling back at the memories.