God give us rain

So, Ndaga taught us a song the other day about rain. He said that when he was a kid if they saw rain clouds they would sing this little dandy of a tune. From what I understand it means, "God, give us rain so that we can live, and then we'll give it back to you". Or something of that nature. (Tad, Rodney, Kathy, Jane..you guys can correct me if I'm way off). I started thinking about some of the rain songs we have in our culture that we might have sung as kids. "Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day" or "Its raining, its pouring, the old man is snoring. He bumped his head and went to bed and didn't wake up in the morning."Poor old timer. Slipped on the wet ground and died in his sleep. What does that twisted tune say about our roots??? But, I digress.
Seriously though, I'm sure there is a lot we could learn about this culture and others by studying there 'kids' songs.

Rainy Season

I came in to the Phare the other day, walking down from where I was dropped off at the top of the driveway. Patrice and Ndiaga had the grillwork at the gate pulled out and were cleaning out the channel under it. This is a regular job during the rainy season. In recent years the mud

washed from the construction of the new coastal road and from the new housing development across the way has plagued us. Times are better, with the road finished and our driveway paved, but the big storm the night before had still managed to top off the sand and trash in the channel. It was time to clean it out again.

One downside of the rain is mud and dirt washing into the property.

Then, I turned to my left and looked up as I chatted with the guys and what met my eye? Our brown light house hill transformed into verdure.

I don't know if you've ever been here during the rainy season. It is such a relief to the eyes after months and months of brown and dust and arid winds to see everything alive and green and bursting with life.

That's part of rainy season, too.

And then I realized that Patrice and Ndiaga were doing more than just shoveling dirt and cleaning out the drainage channel.

Perhaps you remember the huge bougainvillea bush that stood to the left of the gate as you entered the Phare?

I'm afraid it isn't there any longer.

The wall of wind that came with the storm that night simply pushed the old thing right over and uprooted it from the ground. The big job of that morning had been removing the thorny branches and heavy trunk of the bush.

That corner is bare for now, though I'm sure Aaron will find something beautiful to takes its place.

Rains and storms. Moisture with damage. I'm sure there is a good analogy in there!

Like the pruning that the Father does in our lives as His children bringing growth but destroying patterns of thinking as part of the process.



Personally, I'm just sad to see that old bush go.

And comforted by the wild, extravagant new growth that the rains bring.

Greeting is Important

Jane told me a story that I just have to pass on. It's such an insightful glimpse into a little piece of the culture in Senegal, of the-rules-by-which-the-game-of-life-is-played. If you've come here with a church team, you've heard us say it a lot during orientation. Still, sometimes we, too, need reminded that "greeting is important."

So Jane stopped on the way home from working with the talibe in Ouakam yesterday to get some groceries. She had enough stuff that the bag boy helped by carrying a box for her as she searched for a taxi out front. We're without a car for now and so we're using taxis to get pretty much anywhere. Well, I've been catching car rapides for short hops, but taxis are generally our life at the moment.

Anyway, Jane came out and flagged down a taxi. She bargained fairly hard and got a good price, using her Wolof and her hard-earned toughness. As she began putting her stuff in the car, an African fellow came up and asked the taxi driver if he had change. "Excuse me, do you have change for a 5 thousand," he said in French. Or something close to that. The taxi man replied in French that no, he didn't have change and the man left disappointed.

The French-speaking African was not Senegalese. They have a word for such folks in Wolof that is a bit pejorative, even a bit stronger than "toubab" the word for us Western people of pallor. But the African fellow was not brusque. He was not demanding or insistent. He just needed change.

But he made a fatal error in his interaction.

As soon as he got out of earshot, the taxi man said to the bag boy( in Wolof, of course), "Can you believe that? He didn't even greet me! Where does he come off..."

The height of rudeness, like never saying please or thank you in the US, is to neglect to greet someone: shaking their hand and wishing them peace (Asalaamalekoum) and asking how they're doing (Nan nga def?). It's not about skin color. It's not about ethnicity. If you don't greet at the beginning of a conversation, you've clearly communicated that the human you're talking to isn't really a person in your universe. They are not really worth the time of day. They are just a source of getting something you want.

But if you do greet, like Jane had done without thinking, you can bargain like it's a contact sport and it will be understood to be done with respect between two people who honor each other.

A few snaps from the Phare

"Okay, so Sara has been in the US this summer. Of course she can't post. But, by golly, I've been back since July 9th! What's my excuse!"

Such an accusation has occured to me more than once lately. Sorry.

I don't have a lot to say, but it's been wonderful to come back to Dakar and find major improvements that Aaron and Rodney and Herve and all have accomplished during my year away. One is this wonderfully paved driveway. And, as you see, Aaron and Patrice just finished putting a curb all the way up the right side of it.

No mud! No river of rain water! Can you believe it?!

Another huge change is this deceptively simple-looking electrical installation.

I now go into our little office of UWM, turn on the light, turn on the fan, turn on the computer and sit down to work.

WITHOUT KNOWING IF THERE IS A POWER CUT OR NOT!

These batteries and the inverter box keep our office functioning no matter what SENELEC decides to do with the neighborhood's electricity. All day long.

Can you imagine?!

And the best part? No noise. When last I was here, we had a back-up system, a very loud, very old generator that was almost more mental stress than it was worth.

Thank you, team!! Thank you, donor friends!!