What I Miss

I miss walking to the round point to get meat stick sandwiches and nems.

I miss walking to Tapha's butik for fresh bread, bottles of water, or coke in a glass bottle, and then having a conversation with him, with me practicing my French and he practicing his English.

I miss buying a phone card from "my guy" and having others, playfully argue with me that I should leave him and instead buy from them. 

I miss visiting the fruit and veggie stand, and coming away with the best tasting mangoes and mandarins money could buy.

I miss bartering with a taxi driver, knowing I'm paying too much, but accepting it since I'm a toubab and really... What's an extra 500cfa in the scheme of things?

I miss going to the market and hearing "My sister, come into my shop. I give you good price."

I miss hearing the call of prayer. Why? ...because it was a constant reminder to be in prayer for my non-believing Senegalese brothers and sisters.

I miss meals around a common bowl. 

I miss little, steaming cups of attaya, with everyone waiting around in anticipation for the next round.

I miss seeing the brightly colored outfits - a sea of color and a dry and dusty land.

I miss the slower pace of life.

I miss friends - people you could call on at any time, and they'd be there. I miss hanging out, watching a movie on our computer, game nights, and going to the market.

I miss...

I miss Senegal. 

*Disclaimer... I love my life in America. I am happy God has called me here for this season. Don't misunderstand my homesickness for Senegal, as a dislike or an annoyance of life here in America.