Nurse & Translator
The past few weeks several medical volunteer teams have come to Senegal. They hosted 2 vaccination days for the talibe boys where we gave out over 200 yellow fever and tetnus shots. Basic medical care is such an overwhelming need in Senegal. I spent the majority of my time helping with first aid and running from place to place helping translate with the small amount of Wolof I speak. You learn fast when you have no other choice.
Cooking Lessons
Meet Diami. I have known her for years and love this lady so much! She comes to our apartment twice a week to teach us Wolof and we arranged for her to come early one day to teach us to make yassa! Yassa is my favorite Senegalese dish with rice, fish or chicken, and an onion sauce.
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| My roommate, Erin, and I facing our fears and pealing the raw shrimp |
Outreach Weekend....girls are tougher than they look
The weekend of Thanksgiving a large team from FCA High School in Colorado came to Senegal to help with Outreach weekend. On Outreach weekend all the missionaries in the area pack up and head out into the bush 4 hours away to dedicate their time to serving people outside of villages or ministries they have been assigned. We spent 3 nights camping out on rooftops under the stars. We split up into several different teams which were: VBS and drama for kids, foundation, medical, paint, benches, and bricks.
I had offered to join whatever team needed the most help, so I ended up on the brick crew that was helping building homes. Go figure the only girls on the building crews were the two smallest ones on the entire team. For the first hour, we both stood in the back looking at each other with confused faces and feeling lost next to all the men running past us with shovels. But don't doubt us girls.....we're tougher than we look! By the end of the day, we were working our muscles and made several bricks from scratch with zero help from anyone. So, if I'm ever in a situation one day where I'm in the middle of nowhere and have to build myself a house out of bricks, I'll survive! I've got this down---from the mixing sand, cement, and water to pounding it into molds.
The Power of Prayer
At the end of the work days on Outreach we would host a nightly campaign in the village. Our group stood under the baobab tress and sang worship songs in French, Wolof, Sereer, and English. Then we did a skit and the pastor would preach the good news. Afterwards, he would ask anyone who was willing to accept to come forward. For many people, this was the first time they had ever heard this story. While the pastor was preaching, my friend Lizzie and I prayed together continuously. We prayed that God would move in the hearts of those hearing the message, we prayed for the pastor, for the country, for each other, for our lives to be used to glorify God, and whatever else came to mind. Neither of us can remember how much time went by and the words just kept coming. Soon, someone came and told us it was time to go. We missed most of what happened that night. On the van ride home, another missionary began to fill us in. At the campaign when the pastor asked those who believed to come forward the place fell silent and no one stepped forward. Until, one man stepped into the spotlight. The crowd was shocked because that one man was the most important man of all. The village chief.
The village chief is almost like our president. He is in a place of the highest honor and respect.
God showed me that night just how powerful He really is. He can perform miracles if we simply ask.
Someone Who Gets It
Over Outreach weekend I met a very sweet girl who I instantly connected with and we became the best of friends. Her name is Lizzie and she is a student at FCA who lived here last fall as an exchange student. Last month, she was able to return for 2 weeks with the team from her school. I can't describe to you the incredible feeling of finally meeting someone who I can relate with and who shares some of my same experiences----someone who gets it. From the first time Lizzie stepped foot in Africa she fell in love with this country and the people. Except, like me, she had a time limit and had to return to the States. She has spent more time here than just a short term mission trip which makes your connection here much stronger and much harder to say goodbye. When she arrived back home it no longer felt like "home" and her friends and the people around her did not understand. It's hard to explain to people that you feel more comfortable living in a third world culture than in your own American culture. Lizzie's heart still aches to stay in Africa, but she must return. We also had many other things in common and loved talking. She is hoping to major in nursing at Biola so she can go on the mission field one day and help others. I know God has big plans for this girl with such a big heart. I'll be praying for you Lizzie!
Meeting Lizzie was like a breath of fresh air, but still....only partially. One thing I have struggled with since coming here is finding a place to fit in. I'm not a married woman with kids, I'm not a high school student who's parents are missionaries, and I'm not a single who is in my late 20's and nearing 30. Those are the only categories that all the people around me fall into. Guess you could say this place is lacking in college students. Then again, how many students would want to take a year off and move to Africa? It's not exactly a popular idea. But, even if it was, none of them would be like me. Sometimes I sit and wonder if there is one, just one other person, anywhere on this planet who has grown up like me. I was a missionary kid by choice. It was not my parent's career, but I adopted a family and wanted to become a missionary myself. I spent 9 summers of my childhood life in Senegal. That's a lot of time for a little kid. I came back to the same place and saw the same people every year. People recognized me and knew me as "the girl who lives here in the summer". My life began to feel split in half and I didn't have as many friends in America because of it. It can be hard at times because there is no one I can talk to who will fully get it. None of this is to say that I'm special or should be viewed as such. I'm just a normal girl like everyone else who happens to have a different story. Now, God has brought me back to the place I've always dreamed of living and I know He will use me for who I am.
I had offered to join whatever team needed the most help, so I ended up on the brick crew that was helping building homes. Go figure the only girls on the building crews were the two smallest ones on the entire team. For the first hour, we both stood in the back looking at each other with confused faces and feeling lost next to all the men running past us with shovels. But don't doubt us girls.....we're tougher than we look! By the end of the day, we were working our muscles and made several bricks from scratch with zero help from anyone. So, if I'm ever in a situation one day where I'm in the middle of nowhere and have to build myself a house out of bricks, I'll survive! I've got this down---from the mixing sand, cement, and water to pounding it into molds.
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| Sunday morning church. The mural on the back wall of Jesus under the tree was painted by our team |
The Power of Prayer
At the end of the work days on Outreach we would host a nightly campaign in the village. Our group stood under the baobab tress and sang worship songs in French, Wolof, Sereer, and English. Then we did a skit and the pastor would preach the good news. Afterwards, he would ask anyone who was willing to accept to come forward. For many people, this was the first time they had ever heard this story. While the pastor was preaching, my friend Lizzie and I prayed together continuously. We prayed that God would move in the hearts of those hearing the message, we prayed for the pastor, for the country, for each other, for our lives to be used to glorify God, and whatever else came to mind. Neither of us can remember how much time went by and the words just kept coming. Soon, someone came and told us it was time to go. We missed most of what happened that night. On the van ride home, another missionary began to fill us in. At the campaign when the pastor asked those who believed to come forward the place fell silent and no one stepped forward. Until, one man stepped into the spotlight. The crowd was shocked because that one man was the most important man of all. The village chief.
The village chief is almost like our president. He is in a place of the highest honor and respect.
God showed me that night just how powerful He really is. He can perform miracles if we simply ask.
Someone Who Gets It
Over Outreach weekend I met a very sweet girl who I instantly connected with and we became the best of friends. Her name is Lizzie and she is a student at FCA who lived here last fall as an exchange student. Last month, she was able to return for 2 weeks with the team from her school. I can't describe to you the incredible feeling of finally meeting someone who I can relate with and who shares some of my same experiences----someone who gets it. From the first time Lizzie stepped foot in Africa she fell in love with this country and the people. Except, like me, she had a time limit and had to return to the States. She has spent more time here than just a short term mission trip which makes your connection here much stronger and much harder to say goodbye. When she arrived back home it no longer felt like "home" and her friends and the people around her did not understand. It's hard to explain to people that you feel more comfortable living in a third world culture than in your own American culture. Lizzie's heart still aches to stay in Africa, but she must return. We also had many other things in common and loved talking. She is hoping to major in nursing at Biola so she can go on the mission field one day and help others. I know God has big plans for this girl with such a big heart. I'll be praying for you Lizzie!
Meeting Lizzie was like a breath of fresh air, but still....only partially. One thing I have struggled with since coming here is finding a place to fit in. I'm not a married woman with kids, I'm not a high school student who's parents are missionaries, and I'm not a single who is in my late 20's and nearing 30. Those are the only categories that all the people around me fall into. Guess you could say this place is lacking in college students. Then again, how many students would want to take a year off and move to Africa? It's not exactly a popular idea. But, even if it was, none of them would be like me. Sometimes I sit and wonder if there is one, just one other person, anywhere on this planet who has grown up like me. I was a missionary kid by choice. It was not my parent's career, but I adopted a family and wanted to become a missionary myself. I spent 9 summers of my childhood life in Senegal. That's a lot of time for a little kid. I came back to the same place and saw the same people every year. People recognized me and knew me as "the girl who lives here in the summer". My life began to feel split in half and I didn't have as many friends in America because of it. It can be hard at times because there is no one I can talk to who will fully get it. None of this is to say that I'm special or should be viewed as such. I'm just a normal girl like everyone else who happens to have a different story. Now, God has brought me back to the place I've always dreamed of living and I know He will use me for who I am.
