Fellow Stories
True gap year stories from Fellows abroad!
Check out the latest blogs from Global Citizen Year Fellows in Brazil, Ecuador, and India!
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Class Year
Country
Tailoring with Mane
Jahshana Olivierre
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...
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Tears
Cameron Carrick
2014-05-06
It’s hot. It’s one of those punishing heats that makes the simple act of lying down feel stifled. It’s hot and I’m in my garden bent low over fifteen square meters of carrots, mixing surface nutrients into the tender young roots. Despite the dry, blaring sun, down here it’s still moist and my bare feet...
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Why I Am Building a Community Garden: A Manifesto
Alexandra Ding
2014-04-11
The well diggers hit rock last Tuesday, and so, we did what all Pulaar Futas do when problems arise: we bought ourselves a plump hen, and sacrificed it to Allah (Pulaar: sadaka. Translation: a sacrifice to gain God’s blessing and general excuse to get together and eat chicken). God-willing, impenetrable rock will yield to water,...
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Being
Maximilian Chen
2014-04-11
This, the second of three blog posts about the author’s trip to Touba, details the events of a typical day in Touba during the Grand Magal and recounts a venture into the interior of Touba. I have been in the Senegalese holy city of Touba for five days and am no clearer as to the...
Read MoreWoneng Gaa
Emily Stevens
2014-04-11
Written February 28, 2014 This last Sunday I was in Kedougou city with Alex running errands before going home for the last five weeks of our stay. Kaitlyn was hosting us and agreed to take us to her tailor. On the walk there we were discussing how far we’ve come and all the changes that...
Read MoreLet it Go
Allie McKinney
2014-04-11
I’ve never been a confident person. Insecurity has plagued my life ever since the dreaded onslaught of puberty. Whenever the opportunity for an awkward situation arises, my first instinct has always been to eject myself from said situation and hide until it is over. This characteristic has never been attractive to me and I thought...
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Voyage
Maximilian Chen
2014-04-11
The following is the first in a series of three blog posts about the author’s trip to Touba for the Grand Magal. 18:00, 19 December There is a threshold at which long hours of anticipation for an event to occur inevitably transform into long hours of dread. Waiting for a car to take myself and...
Read MoreBeginnings Must End
Samuel Normington
2014-04-07
I have at times strove for perfection in the context of writing blog posts. Today, I am replacing perfection with importance. I have wanted to give you the perfect description of everything in my life but I can’t quite put it into words, and besides that, the feelings I wish to convey are so simple...
Read MoreMy Sister’s Hands
Jahshana Olivierre
2014-03-27
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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Rhythmic Transitions
Jahshana Olivierre
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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The Needle on The Clock and The Needle at My Table
Guzly Guzman
2014-03-27
At 7:30 I awaken to the sounds of my host family bustling about the compound. My mother shouts in Wolof as my younger siblings prepare for school. The maid’s broom sweeping the sand for leaves and trash. The gate closing behind my older sister as she leaves for the market to buy ingredients for lunch....
Read MoreHome away from Home
Shakhi Begum
2014-03-27
“Ban tubab? Ban tubab?” Every passing person from lamb bi, Senegalese wrestling match, managed to ignore the question Mere coco was asking. Mere coco was the nickname of a woman in my neighborhood, who I have become really close with and call mom, thought that I had gotten hurt. She, like some women in Ndianda,...
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