Jam Tun

Kitchen hut
After an 18 hour ride over land I arrived in Kedougou (see map) which is my regional capital. For those of you not familiar with this, a regional capital serves as a central meeting place for volunteers in the region. Our house is made up of huts, awnings and hammocks and our number one guardian, Goojo, the house dog. He is equiped with a scent especially fond of snakes (spitting cobras, to be exact) that live around the compound. I especially enjoy the sleeping porch in which I nestle under the stars and sounds of frogs each night. Outdoor sleeping may be some of the best sleep I have had since arriving in West Africa.

What sold me on coming to Senegal was the fact that my village, being less than 10 km from the border of Guinea spoke SUSSU, the language of my past. Well, when I went to my new village for a visit to check out my surroundings, I found this not to be true. The Peace Corps coordinator looked down at me after this discovery and whispered that my Pulaar language classes would start the following day. However, like bipolar Guinea, my tears of utter frusteration vanished when my new family introduced themselves in SUSSSU. Allah nu wali. (Thank God)

The route to my village is quite the challenge. First one has to cross the Gambia river rumored to house hippos by a small ferry. Then, a 30km road that is nearly impassable by car (I shall be biking lots). I am located on top of a mountain with a gorgeous view of Guinea.

My village is very friendly. My host father told me that he was going to build me the most beautiful outdoor lattrine (I can shower by the moonlight) as well as an outdoor porch/lean-to where I can spend the days swinging in my hammock. It is with all of my heart that I build this for you, he said, we have been waiting for you for a long time and we know you will be happy here. With that touching speech, he also begged that I not leave. I told him that I was evacuated from Guinea and if I were to leave Africa it would have been then. I am not going anywhere, I assured him; I am here to stay.

So now I spend my mornings learning yet another language, Pulaar. It is so difficult. They have a word for everything.

I find that I am becoming content with what I have seen in Senegal. However I do worry if I will fulfill the expectations of being a good volunteer given the circumstances of having to begin again. In Pulaar, they say JAM TUN which means Peace Only. Maybe, just maybe there will be peace after this storm of challenges. Maybe I am right where I am supposed to be. If not, I can always jump the border and pay a visit to my friends in Guinea. Perhaps, inshallah (God willing) that wont be neccessary.

Now, I cross a river and up a mountain to begin again.


Our Guardian



The Sleeping Hut



The ferry crossing the Gambia that takes me to my new home