2016-02-10
My first weeks in my village, there was always another hand in mine, showing me the way- the tiny hand of Ramatou, my five year old host sister and the youngest of four others. I have found ceaseless inspiration from this sassy, prominent, divine little character. She laughs louder than anyone, has a knack for...
Read More2016-01-13
My host family likes to shoot cats with guns. Okay, maybe I can rephrase that since they’ve never actually hit one- my host family likes to shoot at cats with guns. For whatever reason, each time this happens I am in my hut or in the garden behind it reading, taking a bath, or simply...
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2015-12-20
In the southernmost reaches of Senegal, there sits a village known as Thianghe. Here, amidst a rough estimate of thirteen hundred others, lives a girl known as Hawa Diallo. She’s a toubab, or foreigner, and this she rarely forgets. She also has another name, yet this she often forgets. However, when it comes time to...
Read More2015-10-31
Written October 5th, 2015 Going Home The rain was coming down. When I say it was coming down, I mean it. I had never experienced rain that teemed down with such ferocity as this. I had spent the day in the back of a truck, with six other fellows who, one by one, were dropped...
Read More2015-08-25
A friend once asked me to imagine how it would feel to set foot on an earth that had never been touched by mankind. This evoked a vision of an enchanting natural paradise, where all beings function harmoniously with the land that grants them life. As I began to ponder this idea further, I started...
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