For all of my PC/Senegal friends, this is something that you've heard me say numerous times and I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. But it’s true! I have one of the best villages and host
families ever! What makes me bring up
this point again? Well, it all started
last Tuesday…
While I was up in Thies
for my third and last All Volunteer Conference and stressing over my two
presentations, I received a call from my host brother telling me that my sister
had just given birth to a baby girl and the baptism was the following Tuesday-
two short days after WAIST. It is the
season of babies in my family. My sister
and two sister-in-laws were all pregnant at the same time (this actually
happened last time too…they all have three year olds that were born within a
month of each other). Last time I was in
village, I promised them that when each of them gave birth, I would make it
back for the baptism, so I couldn't disappoint with the first one. After the last party ended at 5am (as a third
year, I stayed to help clean up), I slept for two hours and it was off to the
garage to catch a car back to Velingara; I was on a mission. Thanks to car troubles, it took me 12 hours
to get back to my apartment only to know that I had another 2-3 hour ride ahead
of me in the morning.
I get to my road town,
to my dad’s boutique around 10:30am and am greeted by his smiling face. I stay there for a bit, until the
kindergarten lets out, where I am then ushered into village by seven of my
favorite children. I dress in my complete
(matching outfit) and go see the baby, gifts in hand. I walk into the compound and am greeted by
waves of women who told me how great it was to see me and how they’re happy
that I haven’t forgotten about them. I
spend the day eating, catching up with my friends, and lounging under the mango
tree.
When I usually go to
village, I sleep in my old hut that my replacement graciously shares with me. However,
due to lack of communication, I hadn't coordinated this visit with her. As a result, I told my family that I could
sleep anywhere, with my host sisters or mom- I wasn't picky. My oldest brother was out of town, so they
put me in his room for the night. I left
all my stuff in the room without a second thought; I always felt safe and
protected in my village and never had anything stolen from me…until that
baptism. As the evening approached, I
went to look for my phone for the first time since arriving in village. I looked and looked, but it wasn't in my bag
or in a hidden pocket. For a second, I
thought that I may have lost it en route, but I had received a call from a
fellow volunteer, just as I was walking into village- I knew I had had it. So where had it gone!? I told my
sister-in-law about it, who told my brother.
We discussed, we had suspects, and we continued the baptism
celebration. I was resigned to the fact
that it had finally happened. After
almost three years, my phone had been stolen- not bad.
That night, when my
dad got back from the boutique, he was furious.
He was upset that this had happened to me within his compound. Our primary suspect was from a village 10K
away, so my dad told my brother to bike out there the next day and ask him
about it. Not accuse, just mention that
my phone was stolen and if he had seen it etc., etc. And if he didn't return my
phone, “invite” him to a reading of the Quran in my village; in fact, we were
going to “invite” the entire village. In
the meantime, my dad gave me his phone to use.
He said that it was more important for me to be able to communicate than
it was for him. He’s the best.
The next morning, we
receive a call informing my dad that someone from his old village has passed
away. He explained to me that it was his
duty to go and that we would not be able to hold the reading of the Quran that
day. Totally understandable. So my dad went off to the other village and I
went to the road to catch a car back to Velingara. While waiting for a car, so many people asked
me if I had found my phone- word travels fast in village. My mom said, no, it was still missing and
proceeded to curse the person who stole it, for coming into our house and
taking from us. My family was definitely
more upset than I was; if anything I was more annoyed. I took a car to a larger town, where it
happened to be market day, and engaged in some retail therapy (two kilos of
avocados for just over a dollar!). When
I returned to the land of the internet, I sent emails off to our Safety and
Security coordinator and our property manager to start the process of retrieving
my old number (mainly to stay in the free calling loop).
I get a call four days
later from my replacement asking what numbers I had on my phone. The culprit had returned to the scene of the
crime. He had brought the phone to my
brother to have it charged on his solar panel.
I guess it was a good thing that I had procrastinated in getting a new
phone! After I confirmed that it was my
phone, with worn buttons and a small scratch, my brother said that he was going
to talk to the culprit about it. I get
an update a few hours later and apparently the culprit claimed that someone had
sold him that phone in Kolda- convenient.
I asked about my SIM card, but my brother was hesitant to call the guy
out-he was a friend of my older brother.
I told him that this “friend” had entered my brother’s room and stole
something from it- it didn't matter if it belonged to me or to my brother, but
the fact that he violated that space and friendship was disrespectful.
That night my dad and
I orchestrated what would turn out to be a complicated hand off. One of my favorite women in village was going
to Dakar on Monday night on a bus that would pass through Velingara, where I would
then be able to get it from her. Simple
right? WRONG! Buses passing through Velingara are subject
to assertive women and children attempting to sell things to the
passengers. I employed the help of the
bus assistants and other guys to help me, which meant that everyone knew the
tale of my stolen phone. After an hour
of chaos and a broken shoe, I had my phone in hand. Victory!
Then came the saga of returning my dad’s phone to him... One of the assistants said that my dad had
told him the story and that they had arranged for him to return the phone. I tried to call my brother in order to
confirm this story, but his phone was off.
What to do? Trust this guy and
run the risk of him stealing the phone or having to deliver the phone
myself. I decided to trust the guy
because he gave details of my dad and where he was located, but there was an
uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I worried about it all night, calling the phone to no avail, and
thinking that I just gave my dad’s phone away.
The next day, I call again and my dad answers. Phew!
Bear with me, I know this is a long winded story, but it’s
almost over…
So back to my SIM card…
Peace Corps had received my replacement SIM card and is sending it down to me
as I type this. Little did I know, my
dad had threatened the culprit with Peace Corps and policemen if he didn't return the SIM card within five days. So
of course, he returned the SIM card to my dad.
JUSTICE! I’m pretty sure that the
SIM card has been canceled by Peace Corps, but it’s the principle of the
matter. My dad asked me if I wanted to
do anything else, but I told him that all is forgiven and that the culprit has
to live with the fact that everyone knows what he did.
That’s the end!
Whew! If you made it through that
story, I’m impressed. That entire
adventure was a week- and what a whirlwind week it was. So that is why my village and family are the
best. They easily could have left it at “we’re
sorry that your phone was stolen”, but they went a million steps beyond to get
my phone and my SIM card back to me. I
miss them already and I’m only 100 kilometers away. I don’t even want to think about when I leave
to go back to the States. Oy. I’m one lucky gal to have two loving and
caring families who will always have my back.
Thanks for reading!
--Peace
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