In the past month, I’ve fallen down a lot. The day before yesterday I fell into a giant hole dug for a mango tree. Yesterday I fell into the same hole…again. Today I fell over while getting on to my bike. (I know…) A couple of weeks ago my closest friend was sent home after a medical evacuation to the States – that was probably the biggest fall of all!
I’ve posted about this particular friend before, but for privacy I’ll use her Senegalese name, Fatu. Refer to "Brief Job Reflection" posted on 5/21 for other stories involving her. We traveled from Niger to Senegal together, surviving the trials and tribulations of re-readjusting and trying to fit into a volunteer culture already formed without us. She’s been the support of a lifetime in only six months. Her tale can be found in her own words at www.shelbyrajk.wordpress.com, but the long and short of it is she ruptured an artery in her intestine and had to be taken to the States for treatment. She’s ok now, but Peace Corps doctors don’t want to risk a recurrence and have decided to medically separate her from service. (The more detailed story involves almost two liters of blood on the ground, a midnight race from Kaolack to Dakar in an ambulance, and two days in a sunny resort-like clinic.)
After returning to Tamba from this impromptu trip to Dakar, I took a few days to reflect before jumping back into my work. What happened to Fatu was a rapid reminder of the general impermanence of our roles as volunteers. We make flash appearances in people’s lives and change them, for better or for worse. We remind the Senegalese of what they don’t have and inspire them to reach for better circumstances. We run the risk of antagonizing those who celebrate a different culture and have no desire to revolutionize. Not for the first time, I questioned if my presence here is right. This is a gray area for me and has been from the start. But I’m still here.
In Fatu’s case, she traveled first to Niger, next to Senegal, each time with the anticipation of an extended stay and each time denied it. I thought about my commitment to stay in Tamba and wondered if we’d all make it through the elections in January, or if I’d survive the loneliness of losing a good friend here. Each day in Peace Corps brings new challenges and opens new doors, and I’ve never experienced anything like it.
The large discrepancy between Fatu’s medical care and that of an average Senegalese was also startling. Healthcare is an enormous issue in the United States and for the first time in my life, I felt thankful, because this indicates our understanding of its importance. In Senegalese villages, healthcare often stops beyond the local healer and not because of unavailability; in fact, the government has made great strides in the past ten years to provide affordable medicines and treatment. Many people have just not grasped the importance of this change, or believe too fervently in methods that have low statistical success but are traditional. Those who do understand are often not making the decisions within families. This is the challenge given to health volunteers, not just with Peace Corps but with any organization – to modify behavior. It’s a psychological shift more than anything else. The effort of these volunteers is incredible and their successes immeasurable, quite literally.
If Fatu had been a poor Senegalese, chances are high she would have died. I thank the Peace Corps doctors for their quick action and salute the many volunteers who are working to shift that imbalance, to not only offer good care to all poorer citizens in Senegal, but insure that it is taken advantage of.
After my few days of reflection, I tackled the workload that had been piling up in my absence. My volunteer work partner and friend has since moved on to greener pastures, and I don’t mean that as a metaphor. He moved to Thies, a city just outside Dakar, and actually much, much greener than Tamba. He’ll be helping out there for a year with new volunteer trainings and support. Unfortunately, that leaves me to try and take on two volunteers’ worth of projects. So far it’s been pretty difficult.
To sum it up briefly, I am still partnering with the Master Farmer program, as well as trying to revive the demonstration garden after a few months of neglect. I’ve taken on a women’s garden to assist and struck up a relationship with AfriCare to help with a series of gardening trainings. The school garden is on hold for a bit until school starts in October. In theory, I am doing all of the above - in reality, I am at the Master Farmer field all day every day, with quick appearances at the demo garden to water and drive-bys of the women’s garden to say “Try to weed better! Well, I gotta go!”
I’d say so far I’m failing to maintain all the projects I’d like to be involved in. The MF field is full time and frankly, time is running out. We’re on a strict seasonal clock here. There will be a replacement volunteer in Tamba arriving in the beginning of November, and I’m crossing my fingers that I can hold on to everything until then. I don’t want to have to show him/her an empty wasteland and say “Now grow things!” So wish me luck. I’ll need it.
As I said, I’ve fallen down a lot this month, both physically and emotionally. Working in this environment has tested me in every possible manner. At the same time, I've learned things about myself and the world I would never have known otherwise. I hope to keep sharing these things with you. For now, what I've learned is that for every time I fall down, I'm able to pick myself back up again.
Until next time,
<3 Phoebe
