2014-05-06
If you know me then you probably know monotony and I do not get along, so I’ve traded in my days teaching English at the school (for other reasons as well, which is a whole other blog post) for sewing at Mane’s tailor shop. Tailoring is a huge market in Senegal. In Kebemer, the majority...
Read More2014-03-27
My sister’s hands hold the weight of the world Her knuckles buckle under the pressure of expectation dismantled salvation societal degradation My sister’s hands are “ugly” they are worn out and bruised glorified yet abused for the sake of them us we me My sister’s hand have a price on them My sister’s hands are...
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2014-03-27
This piece was written in October at the beginning of my time here in Senegal. Rhythmic Transitions Takk tikki Takk takk the beating of our drums signified this important moment in time Takk takk tak tikki takk takk with each tap, our souls escaped and found itself interconnecting becoming one – dancing to the smooth...
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2014-02-20
I often spend these seemingly endless nights tossing and turning, engulfed in an ill- setup but well intentioned mosquito net. I’m at war – combating a billion different species of bugs, trying to eat me alive, and even when I see the twenty or so casualties I’ve inflicted my efforts fall short. The bugs continue to terrorize...
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2013-12-30
The stars illuminated the noir sky,the crashing waves became a calming melody – it was the night of November 28th one day before what would make a full three months since I set foot in Senegal and here I was in Toubab Dialaw gathered around familiar faces and warm spirits reflecting on it all. Now that I look back on it –...
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2013-07-19
A face among many undistinguished faces, a lost soul among many lost souls: who was I? What did others’ perception of me mean to me? What was my identity? These questions were the stepping stones to a new quest – a quest of self-discovery. I felt trapped – trapped in a box, a dark melancholic box. I feel...
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