Fellow Stories
True gap year stories from Fellows abroad!
Check out the latest blogs from Global Citizen Year Fellows in Brazil, Ecuador, and India!
Category
Class Year
Country
Be a Fool
Madeleine Balchan
2010-10-26
My heart was beating to the rhythm of the African drums. The floor was wet and slippery because of beads of fallen sweat. The man in front of me was moving his hips and knees in ways I’d never seen before; I tried to mimic his movements. The woman dancing next to him turned around...
Read MoreRuminations on a Rainy Day
Tess Langan
2010-10-26
Most days in Senegal the sun shines so brightly that the white pavement blinds me on the way to class. Most days my host mother encourages me to eat, eat, to invite friends over for lunch, for the night. Most days I greet strangers on the street and hear their joyful rejoinder in a chorus...
Read MoreFeeling the Flow
Naomi Wright
2010-10-25
There is a point when matter is so cold that all molecular motion ceases completely: Absolute Zero. For the last four years of my life, I’ve been in crisp control of my brain, keeping it in that exact state of ultimate stillness. Don’t misunderstand me, I have felt feelings and thought thoughts. However, each was...
Read MoreWonder, and A Tale of Two Cities
Gus Ruchman
2010-10-19
I have never seen as much collective body heat joyously united with as many collective smiles as I did on Saturday night—or technically Sunday morning. After several hours of audience anticipation, Youssou N’Dour at last graced the stage around 2:30 am. The floor immediately flooded with fans elated to witness an intimate performance by perhaps the most...
Read MoreDancing “Naked”
Amanda Brinegar
2010-10-18
I keep having the same dream. The sun is in my eyes, but in its glare I can see people staring and pointing at me. Panic stricken, I look down and realize I am naked, exposed. Then I wake up. But often, I’m not sure that I have actually wakened. When walking to school, I...
Read MoreFaith
Kedisha Samuels
2010-10-18
Tonight I have no place to sleep, no house, no home, no bed, no sheets. But this is life for me, so I walk these streets. It’s rough out here but I make it because honestly speaking I don’t have a choice. I could complain all day but in this big world I don’t have...
Read MoreKiva and the Man Behind It
Johannes Raatz
2010-10-18
The two week training in San Francisco was truly phenomenal. I have learned firsthand from powerful leaders from both the private and public sectors. I am talking about people who have worked with Bill Gates and President Kennedy. And within the NGO world, I met with founders and CEOs directly. I write this only to...
Read MoreNaka laa tudd? Call me Moustapha.
Gus Ruchman
2010-10-15
When I wake up in the morning the first sound I hear is the comforting hum of the fan, my indestructible line of defense against mosquitos and sweat baths at night, as long as the power is on. Next my ears tune to the roosters next door that act as the alarm clock I cannot...
Read MoreShake it Out
Amanda Brinegar
2010-10-14
We stepped off the plane into the dark. Our feet fell on rocky asphalt rather than cushy airport carpet. African impression: dark and rough. Although I have been here for almost a week, I haven’t found my way out of the dark. Yes, the sun has come up, but it radiates over an unfamiliar land....
Read MoreExpect the Unexpected
Tess Langan
2010-10-12
Before I left for Senegal I got advice from some of last year’s fellows. Of the various conversations I had, one piece of advice stuck and tumbled through my mind like laundry: have no expectations. For the most part I think I have honored this counsel, remaining unruffled by kamikaze-like drivers, “bucket” baths (kind of...
Read MoreObservations
Madeleine Balchan
2010-10-12
I’ve been in Dakar for one week. The first few days, I was numb from sensory overload. I see sheep in the street meridian, bright colorful linens, flies swarming the meat stands and more western clothes than I expected. I hear my brothers converse in Wolof, the fierce but melodic call to prayer from the...
Read MoreAll That Glitters
Naomi Wright
2010-10-09
In French, the word for trash is ordure: the remains of a destroyed or broken up something, now worthless and fit only for disposal. To contradict my previous post, the last four days have left me feeling, well, trashed. As I lay stewing in a pool of sweat this morning, trying to will the power...
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