Change

Sometimes I just don’t know how to process my feelings. As I sit here I am purposely listening to a hauntingly beautiful violin piece played by Farid Farjad. The song was on a disc that a former student, Ida Tajalli, gave me years ago. I remember her having difficulties finding her place in the world as a shy, nice young lady who is of Iranian Muslim descent. Being of such a minority in Farmington Hills, Michigan, and in many places around the United States, must be very challenging. I am here in Senegal as a minority trying to understand and assimilate into a society full of would-be minorities in the United States. It’s a humbling experience. I have learned so much from those whom we typically marginalize back home.
I am planting my feet and feeling anchored here. Yet life seems to remind us, so often, that that which we think is stable is in the process of change. Every day, week, month, even year, can be so ephemeral, so fleeting. What lasts? Very little. This dynamism is what gives life so much vitality, while also breeding a sense of insecurity. The past couple days I have felt that it’s time to start some other activities and rountines here to make me feel even more anchored. I have interviewed U.S. personnel at the Embassy and at the USAID (Agency for International Development) complex in the hopes of possibly finding a volunteer opportunity. I have talked to some at the International School of Dakar about teaching supplemental U.S. History to the American students. I am also in the process of having my level in Arabic assessed so I can register for a course to refresh and deepen my knowledge of the language. This week everyone who sees me has remarked that I have fully integrated and now am Senegalese. It’s a good, anchoring feeling.
So why the melancholy? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the malaise in the lives of my loved ones. Perhaps it’s foreshadowing for my own changes. I am believing our spirits are more interconnected than we admit, and our inner peace comes not only from our own volition but also from the totality of all those in the world with whom we come in contact. Contact being not exclusively physical, but encompassing common thoughts, feelings, and experiences with those next door and literally on the other side of the globe.
While leaving the Embassy today, the cultural affairs officer who is responsible for my program asked me if I had called my U.S. principal. I said no and asked why such a call would be in order. He informed me that my exchange partner is ultimately failing and sending him back here to Senegal is imminent. The news was both unexpected and destabilizing. Ultimately that could lead to an abrupt end to my year here with my return in the days or weeks ahead. I cannot even begin to process what such news will mean for me emotionally, physically, intellectually, socially, and professionally. I just hope more communication is forthcoming and clarity is within reach. Inshallah.