Slowly learning a place (ndank, ndank)

Sometimes when I encounter Senegalese here and they ask where else in Africa I've traveled and when I tell them they often say, "So you're African then." But what's funny is the longer I'm here the less I think of it as being "Africa" and even less as "Senegal" but in more specific terms like Ouakam (where my school is), Sacre Coeur (where my house is), Mermoz (where many of my friends live). On the plane over, I read the special National Geographic issue on Africa and it seemed like this tangible place. Now when I flip through the very same pages the images seem more foreign--NOW that I'm here--than they did on the plane. I think, before coming here I had created this idea in my head of Africa conceptualized by, "I want to study in Africa. Someday I want to work in Africa." But more and more the resounding blank "Everything You Knew. Think Again" cover of NG is piercing me especially as get lost and discover the very small section of my neighborhood. And to think, I used to say I was going to AFRICA.

All places become bigger and smaller to us as we travel, sometimes simultaneously, and it's just because I'm on the verge do I write this. But it's strange to think that even though I'd traveled here (here as in Africa) for three weeks in March that I though I knew this place (this place as in Africa) and I really don't. I probably had more accurate expectations than most and there are scenes that can be had all across, at least West Africa, that I was prepared for (dirty, garbage in the street, marriage proposals from men, Nescafe, bargaining). But I'm learning far more about this culture (Wolof? Senegalese? Both?) in only three weeks and a half (and counting) than I ever did about any of the four countries we visited during spring break. But I'm still not learning enough. One layer only reveals another layer. The moment I learn one thing it only opens up the door for a lot more things that I just don't understand. This is both motiviating and frustrating. But one thing is for sure that we all create familiar spaces for ourselves. Time it takes, yes, but eventually we do, and I'm finding those places. Comfort in walking through the gates of our campus every morning when the rush and the noise of the street suddenly fades. Having fewer and fewer surprises coming out of the kitchen at my family's home, "Ah I know what this tastes like. We had it last week." Even something like going to a place more than once: I've circled around Place de l'Indepdence (main intersection downtown) three or four times now and it makes me feel like I know this spot. Again, it always comes down to those little things, which will maybe lead to bigger things. But only if I'm lucky. "Ndank, ndank." (Slowly in Wolof).