Home Away From Home @ MindSay

I rather wish that I lived close enough to school to bike there.

I'm halfway considering some sort of arrangement regarding J's house, that involves me driving there, taking my bike out of the back, keeping my car there during the day, biking to class. Just until we start getting decently slushy, or the end of the semester, whichever happens first.

I seem to have far many mental arrangements regarding J's house. Where do I crash when I've gotten home from a gig ridiculously late, and I know I won't be able to drive back to my town? J's house. Where do I want to study when I need someplace quiet and comfortable? J's house.

J's actually quite awesome. She's savvy, musical, has a deep love of literature, and takes no guff from anyone. She's decent about listening, she can point out the flaws in my plans that I can't see (we have very different perspectives), and she really enjoys cooking. My parents see no reason to worry when I'm over there, so that contributes immensely to the value of her being okay with me crashing when I need to.

Unfortunately, she's out of the country right now. I rather miss her.

And I still need a biking arrangement. All my other connections on that side of town are connected to Knuter. Actually, J is too, but it's not so much through Knuter.

I can hear T barking at me. "Suck it up. Your car works fine." Makes me laugh.

Starting with my very first week in Yoff, every time I cross the threshold of my house, I breathe that sigh of relief only “home” can elicit. What I have discovered, in my limited experience of three months, about true Senegalese hospitality is that it is not explicit and bears none of the obsequiousness often encountered with American hospitality, if such a term exists. Yes, I am paying the N’Doye/Sambs. But my role is not that of a tenant. Yes, I am a foreigner, a toubab. But I am not a novelty. I am a guest, but not an outsider. I’m just one of the kids. Granted, my frequent confusion and bizarre toubab behavior inevitably make me a pretty funny kid. But I have never felt gawked at by those in my family. To my knowledge, we have never offended each other. We respect each other’s differences whether they can be attributed to nationality, religion, wealth…I have never really cared to classify them as they are hardly an obstacle. Truth be told, the cultural differences were most manifest in food and umm…the bug population. I suppose the role of the television set presents another stark difference. And the fact that Binta, who is around the house almost more than N’Deye, is a prostitute adds another (and often colorful) dimension to my home life. But I care deeply for every member of my family. N’Deye especially. She exudes a rare and beautiful vibrancy. More so than the physical house, I find comfort in N’Deye’s chuckle and wise eyes. Gosh, I’m getting nostalgic already. Moving on.