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
Progress
Aubrey Haddard
2011-11-11
Sunday, my sister Mamy and I took a day trip to Rufisque for some girl therapy shopping, Senegalese style. Which, is pretty contradictory considering shopping in Senegal is everything but relaxing. We took one of the yellow and blue buses with flowers and ALHAMDULILAH painted on the front. It resembled a large 1970’s VW bus...
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Adaptation and fish guts
Kaya Hartley
2011-11-09
I’ve recently been reading a book called The Minder Brain; it discusses the functions of the human brain and the ability we have to adapt. Adaptation. What an interesting concept. I have also been considering the connection between adaptation and fear. Most of us can make a fair sized list of things we are...
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My name is Fallou Beye
Samuel Parson
2011-11-03
There are three kinds of us with the chance to live in this world. There’s one kind that lets the world revolve around them with a forever unchanging attitude and a cold shoulder to even the bare thought of growth, there’s another that really embraces challenge with wide-open arms and a fast-driving desire to build...
Read MoreIn a Man’s World…
Brian Baylor
2011-11-03
Feeling a part of something is a high in itself, and recently I peaked in a situation that I’ve never experienced before. Earlier today I worked with my uncle in the local cemetery. This is no ordinary cemetery though; what’s special about this cemetery is that it has both Catholic and Muslim family members in...
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Pondering
Natalie Davidson
2011-11-03
I’m sitting in the courtyard at my grandmother’s house on a brightly patterned woven mat on the ground. The sun is no longer beating directly overhead and the shade beneath the huge tree provides a cool comfort perfect for napping. Eight beautiful women surround me – each wrapped in vivid Senegalese cloth, laughing, singing, and...
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Trash, Trash, Trash
Charlotte Benishek
2011-11-03
One of the most prominent features of the average street in my rural village of Leona, aside from the sand, is the trash. It lines the streets — mainly plastic bags, packaging, the occasional discarded sandal. Plastic and processed goods have reached rural Senegal, but there is simply no centralized location to discard them when...
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Mind Whirring
Russell Bollag-Miller
2011-11-03
When I woke up this morning I made a promise to myself that I would contribute in some way and make someone’s day easier. I decided on this mission because for the few weeks that I’ve lived in Mberes, I have not been allowed to lift a finger. I can’t clean my own room, can’t...
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Patience
Paulina Personius
2011-11-02
For the past two months that I have been in Senegal I have been trying to learn and see as much as I can: from studying Wolof and French every day, to cramming in visits to all the markets and beaches of Dakar. As many of my friends and family at home can attest to,...
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You’re Single, Why?
Paulina Personius
2011-11-02
During my week spent in my village I was asked too many times to count, “Are you married?” And when I responded “deedeet”, or no in Wolof, that first question was immediately followed up with “Why not?” I find that I am still working on an adequate response. At first I responded with “Je suis tres...
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Tommy, can you hear me?
Lukas Brenard
2011-10-28
Being without certainty of practically any demand given to me is slowly forcing me to silence impulsive behavior. Any time I assume I know what someone is saying in Wolof or French I make a mistake. I attempt to show them that I understand by saying something which proves I am listening. By doing this...
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Balla Gaye
Russell Bollag-Miller
2011-10-25
Everyone is dead. Well, not really. But it really looked like it. In a matter of seconds, the entire hundred-something people who inhabit my village cleared out. Women screaming. Men sprinting for the road. And then silence. I was dazed, sitting alone under a tree that had previously been bustling with life and conversation that...
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Senegalese Cinderella
Emily Hanna
2011-10-25
I plunge my dirty rag into the bucket of soapy water in front of me, holding back a wince as the soap suds and lye find their way into all my cuts and scratches. My hands are raw from scrubbing, and my left eye is red and weepy from my unwise attempt to rub it...
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