This morning I woke up giggling, for I dreamt that a soap opera made an episode about filling up the shelves of a supermarket. I couldn’t recall where I was for a while. Then I found myself in a mosquito net castle.
Airplanes fly over our house so near I’m sure if the windows had glass it would break a thousand times every day. I like the airplanes, they carry on one hand people who have yet to experience what I have here so far, and on the other those who are already getting used to the thought of returning home. I feel like I can sit down in between two of those people in the plane for a minute and order a glass of coke; it feels like a comfortable state of in-betweenness.
French classes are exhausting. Four hours every day chaque jour is not meant for humans. I’m glad Wolof classes are starting.
At least I’ve done it now. Gone for a malaria test, I mean. Washed my laundry by hand for the first time ever. Seen a local market and bought skirt fabric from a boiling hot boutique. Begun a routine of bucket showers – yes, stop laughing, Tamar, if you’re reading this. Visited a former slavehouse in Goree Island. Broken a pair of flipflops when returning from a walk at 11pm with my sisters. Missed toilet paper. Eaten lots of cheebu jen. That’s how life goes here.
I finally found out I will be spending six months in a place called Ngueniene. I haven’t yet had internet access to really check where that is. But I will see where it is when I’m on my way, and I will see what it’s like when I reach. And I can’t wait to reach.
I have yet to get used to coming home and walking into the bathroom and seeing that there is no water at all and sighing: “Oh this is just one of these days”.
En ole ihan vielä tottunut tulemaan täkäläiseen kotiini illalla ja menemään vessaan ja näkemään, ettei siellä ole lainkaan vettä ja vain huokaisemaan: “Ai tämä on taas näitä päiviä”.