being here through it

Written 24 September 2013:

Today was a hard day for Sarr family here in Sénégal.

During the summer of 2011 my Kenyan sister Winnie lived with my family in the US. Toward the end of her stay, the D-H family had a hard day. And I remember so clearly her telling me that she was glad she was there for it. Not that she was glad the hardness was taking place, but glad that she could be with us through it.

She told me passing that day with us made her feel like more a part of the family than much of the other time spent together because hard days feel real and universal and being there meant being a family.

I thought a lot about that conversation yesterday. Yesterday when there was sickness, a car accident, a power outage, and no water to speak of in almost all of Dakar, I thought about being part of the hard day.  And I was glad to be there through it.

I was glad to light candles and haul buckets of water from long distances and sit in silence and say ‘I understand’ when the told me that days have been worse, speaking of the days not even a year ago when their Mama, their center, left the world.

I was glad to just being here through it.

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Written 25 September 2013: 

This is the hard part. This is the part where you’ve got to be in it. You’ve got to show through your actions and words and presence that you are in it and that you will be a positive force amongst the difficult.

This is the part where you need to carry your own weight so they can carry theirs. This is the part where you need to make yourself stand out in a different way. By being attentive, present, open, and willing. This is the part where you need to put yourself away because you are a part of this right now.

And I think this is one of those big moments when you have to decide if it’s worth it for you to commit to the connection.

And I’m still not sure exactly what I feel about Sénégal – I still have too much to learn before I could make declarations. But I find I’m committed to do the hard work.

I’m committed to go downstairs and take the time to feel out what kind of presence is needed from me in the moment. I’m committed to sit up straight and show attentiveness and find questions to ask even when I’m tired and don’t understand and miss the luxury of private liberal arts education. I’m committed to hold true to myself and to remind myself that I live, that I am here, that I am only in control of I, that above all else I should always strive to be my best self, in whatever context and moment I might find myself.

I want ever night to be able to say: I am proud of who I was today.

And it helps me right now, when the days are hard for the family I live amongst and when I find myself frustrated by approaches different from my own and when I struggle to be fully present to this country because of the grief in another, it helps me and it centers me to decide that I am committed and this is my approach for me and my experience. This is who I (the only person I am living) am going to be in this place (the only place where I am living).

It helps me and it centers me.

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Written 26 September 2013:

Finally, it has rained.

After two weeks with limited water and after four days with no water, finally it has rained.

After suffocating and dehydrating for ten days of heavy humidity with no reprieve, finally it has rained.

And you can hear, physically hear, the people rejoice. Because even if only for a little while, there is relief.

Tonight we will all rest easy/ier.

“Little by little” my Pappa says, “we are refilling this home.” And suddenly I feel like I am a part of the constant.

And now everyone is told that Callie Daba Sarr hauled water. You stick with it, you work through it, you are present to it, and then you become part of the constant.

There is still so much to discover, so much to make known. But I think I’m really happy here.