This weekend was very boring. Lauren, Ellen, and I decided it would be a lazy one so we could catch up on some much needed sleep. Saturday we woke up with plans to go to the beach, but I got sick- I slept the whole day, emerging from my room only to show my face at mealtimes. I couldn't eat no matter how much my brothers insisted "You MUST eat to get better!" I have a sneaking suspicion they meant to say "You MUST eat if you want to vom!" I can tell I'm truly adapting, because they're beginning to irritate my like a true brother might. And I say that affectionately.
Sunday morning I woke up feeling recharged and refreshed from a day off and went on a short run along the Corniche (the road that runs along the ocean) with Lauren and Ellen. I don't know if I have talked about this phenomenon yet, but I'm too lazy to re-read previous entries. Sorry if I'm repeating:
Working out here is rather bizarre. Many women "run", but what they really mean is that they "power walk", and many of these women are Muslim and wear scarves around their head, long pants, and sleeves to maintain their modesty. I have no idea how they aren't all passed out on the side of the road like dead flies: I can hardly breathe in my t-shirt and shorts! Also, men and women alike workout in the kinds of clothes my high school cross coach would cringe to see. Flip flops are common, and so are polo shirts or other clothes us Americans would never consider as athletic wear.
We finished our walk back with three nice, refreshing coconuts--- er, Ellen and Lauren thought so anyway. The coconuts are sold by men who push dingy carts piled with them. When you buy one, the man first takes his large knife and chops away and creates a small hole on the top of the coconut, where you put the straw to drink the coconut milk. The liquid is surprisingly clear for the heavy, milky, bitter taste it has. After you drink the liquid, the vendor chops the coconut in half and you eat the true "coconut insides". For me, the coconut was neither appetizing nor refreshing. I was quite disappointed, but also glad that we didn't pay any money to buy them. A nice older runner paid for them for us because we ABSOLUTELY needed to have one for each of us.
Later Sunday, I received some difficult news from home that made me realize how totally helpless I am to my friends and family while I am in Africa. I wanted nothing more than to jump on the next plane home- but given the impossibility of that sentiment, I cried to Mom and Dad, adding to their already great stress. It's not possible to really help from this position, but I realized I'm certainly able to harm. I'm grateful to my parents for finding the patience to tolerte my outrageous phone call nonetheless.
Monday morning was a vast improvement. With the light of day, things didn't seem so bad, and I even received a text from Dad relieving some of my concerns. Plus it helped that the power (thus, the fan) stayed on for the first entire night!
Now I'm sick again, and was told (along with Lauren, who unfortunately shares my symptoms) by two different professors that "You must be happy and energetic in my class, you must not be sick!" Apparently professors are super perceptive with only three students in a class. I think that the worst possible thing to say to this sick person is exactly that. I feel like shit, I've been listening to French for 8 hours, and no, I'm not going to smile!!
Even though my head is filled with snot and nausea, today was the first time I came home and felt a sense of relief. Today, it wasn't a daunting task to make little conversations with each person and struggle to find something to talk about. Sitting on the terrace with my brothers, I was happy to ramble about my sister who I'm so proud of (and worried about!) and pass pictures around. I also had a surprisingly neutral conversation about polygamy. After I expressed my views on the subject, he just said, "Wow". I thought he was offended by my liberal and strong opinions since it is common for Senegalese men to have more than one wife, but he elaborated, "Just then, you spoke very well. That was really great french!"
Totally made my evening. Now I can attempt to stomach dinner, take some good 'ole nyquil, and SLEEP happy.
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