village life

Entering into village life can be quite the shocking experience. In a very dramatic way, you are forced to conform to your environment. It is odd to think that there is very much a culture of travel. This culture exists side by side with that of a residents. Being a traveler affords a certain independence and privacy. You do, after all, always have the option of leaving, an option not afforded to too many citizens in the countries I have been living in. Having largely lived in transitive households, whether it be a hostel, a guest house, a mission house or an expat family, I have largely been departing from this point as I interact with local culture around me. Moving in with Jenna in the village certainly challenged this position. Jenna’s room is directly attached to the families single room house in the village. The shade structure provided is shared for the whole family. The only real privacy she has is her bedroom and her toilet. This past year, I have always had the option of leaving. Being completely independent, even attaching myself to a community or a work was never a true and solid commitment. In the village, I certainly got to have a taste for what a different type of life being posted to a place is. The challenges are far different, for you have to live with these people. I can simply get along until I move along. A two year commitment, like the one spent with the peace corps, just does not

I certainly had some romantic notions about my visit to this largely muslim community in the north. Excited for the opportunity to engage Muslims in conversation, I found myself thrust right away into such conversations. Did I have grand ideals about being a toubab (white) marabou? Perhaps… All the same, I found it exciting, though exhausting to be able to have inter-religious intercultural discussions in French.

Anyways, why don’t I put a little order to this experience. On second thought…. I am gonna go find some chocolate (a vice I haven’t indulged in months) and go for a walk….