It’s that time again for a new blog post, but I ran out of new and creative ideas for blogs. I hope you don’t mind I’ve stolen this topic from a fellow missionary (Jenn). I hope you enjoy it!
Dear Dust Storm 2012,
I really, really love the wind you bring to Dakar. The cool spring breeze upon my freshly sunkissed face is marvelous. I can’t explain to people how much I love it when you make my hair dance in the wind.
What I don’t like about you, however, is that when my happiness eludes me and a large smile sweeps across my face, you- in all your glory- hit me in the face with excess dirt. I am getting rather sick of having brushed my pearly whites, only minutes later to feel like I bit the dust while running down a sand dune (Katie).
This just isn’t working out for me. I might see you around, but I really would prefer for you to clean yourself up next time around.
Dear Ladies Outside the Mosque,
I. Love. You. Buganala torop.
I love the fact that we don’t speak each other’s language, yet we get so much joy out of seeing each other. One day, I would love to be able to sit with you and find out about your life. If only I could speak Pular, Wolof, and Serar… un jour mes amies… un jour!
Even though I can see the hardness of African life on every wrinkle on your face, I think you are all so beautiful. You are all so unique and welcoming. You were created for a purpose and you are so incredibly loved by the maker of Heaven and Earth.
Yaangi Ci Sama Xol, Buganala
Dear Americans Who Donate Clothes To Africa,
Please do not send used underwear.
Person Who Sifts Through “Gently” Used Underwear At The Market