Sweet Community

When I think about the essence of community, I think about the people of The Gambia, the small independent country nestled within Senegal, who live without many of the globalized conveniences or luxuries that we Americans are so accustomed to- readily available air conditioning, widespread fast food chains, developed roads, latest and greatest electronics, branded clothing, long hot running water, large-scale department supermarket stores, etc.

Yet in lieu of all of these things, The Gambia possesses one of the strongest senses of community and family ties I have ever witnessed.

I think about the sweet Gambian family that graciously allowed us to stay in their rural compound full of 19 of the most vibrant kids I’ve ever seen and a whole lot of love, dancing and playfulness (shoutout Marissa for being a Peace Corps angel and letting us experience this, she’s doing amazing things). Beyond the diminishing daytime that melts into the baobab trees surrounding this small village, exists a calm, unlit compound where the jovial spirits of 19 children dance and hop around freely, so full of vitality that they light up like an orb amongst the darkness of the night around them.

I think about the traditional ways of eating in Gambia and Senegal that also confirms their natural bend towards community. Meals are inclusive and shared among families as they sit around in a circle together- inside or outside, table or no table, it doesn't matter. The meal of choice, usually a Jollof rice based dish packed with fresh fish, vegetables, and spices, is served in one large metal bowl placed in the middle of the family with one spoon for each person.

With their respective spoons, they each jointly carve out a portion for themselves and eat into that allotted portion. One bowl. Four or five or however many spoons. Less dishes. Relishing in shared space and proximity to each other. A true portrayal of the gift of food bringing people together. Families invite their neighbors over for meals, even if they don’t have a surplus to give out. Sharing, even if it is minimal, is an incontestable aspect to their culture. 

In addition to widespread acts of community, I think about the acts of selflessness, a trait I found to be so prevalent throughout West Africa that it could make me cry just thinking about all the ways people were so infinitely kind.

I think about the many Moroccans and Mauritanians who spontaneously accommodated us into their plans for the day when they picked up my friend and I on our fervent quest to hitchhike across the Sahara Desert.  To the many car rides spent trying to cross our language barrier, through mutual efforts on both ends, always ending in genuine laughter, deepened understanding, and when the ride came to an end, an endearing exchange of Hamdulilahs and Inshallah goodbyes- that feeling of magical connection that transcends borders is unlike anything else. I could talk for days about the plethora of hospitable and selfless people we encountered during our journey down the Western coast of Africa.

I think about our spontaneous day trip into the city of Touba, Senegal. Known as the “Holy City” becuause of its historical role in rescuing the society from colonial alienation from France’s rule, and returning it to Islam. It is home to the Great Mosque of Touba in honor of the most influential Muslim sect/brotherhood in Senegal, the Mourides. It is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful and angelic buildings I’ve ever seen.

However, when we first arrived, we did not yet know or realize the divinity of this city. Like I said, it was a spontaneous destination, a city we randomly decided to stop and stay the night in on our way to The Gambia purely due to its geographical location on a map being perfectly on our route.

So, when we were riding the local city bus into the Holy City of Touba, my hair was exposed, I was slightly unprepared and I had not yet fully grasped the significance of this city’s deep-rooted holiness. (Keep in mind that I had been in West Africa, a predominately Muslim region, for quite some time at this point and never once encountered a moment where I was required to cover my hair just to enter a city. I wore clothes that covered my legs and shoulders, but was not yet informed on the hair protocol for this new city).

Women and young girls around me on the bus were clothed in their ornate skirts and dresses, plated with vibrant patterns and floral colors that coordinated perfectly with their matching head scarves, and created the most beautiful, cohesive outfit uniquely worn by each. Each woman appeared to me as an emblem of distinguished, classy beauty, not only with their elegant style, but also with their natural warm, elegant smiles that they’d so often flash me immediately when making eye contact. I admired all of them.

As the bus approached the city, the ladies around me motioned towards my hair, untamed and loose, gently clueing me to cover or wrap it up. Flushing with panic and fear of being disrespectful, I rummaged through my bag and remembered the trusty pashmina I always kept stuffed inside. Perfect for such an occasion, I thought, as I quickly draped it around my head and tossed the scarf-like ends over my shoulders.

Now I was dressed for the occasion, an outfit fit for Touba. The ladies around me beamed in acceptance at my new presentation, giggling, nodding, and giving me the ultimate seal of approval- a thumbs up.

That small but impactful moment was extremely special to me. Those local Senegalese ladies on the bus were so warm and gentle with my genuine cultural mishap- I could’ve been scorned for being ignorant or disrespectful. Instead, they made me feel included, made me feel like I was one of them on that local city bus ready to tackle on a typical day in Touba, and in that moment, that’s all I wanted to be- effortlessly graceful and part of the convergence where each spirit of joy merged together to radiate true, authentic beauty. A convergence of beauty and companionship.

“Rafet nga”, means ‘beautiful’ in Wolof, one of my favorite words.

I’ve tasted the sweetness of traveling from place to place, the invigoration of meeting new people all the time, but nothing will ever be sweeter than a reliable, loving community of friends and family that will hold you up and support you no matter what.

We all long for human connection, and what good are all of these frivolous material things, if at the end of the day, we’re still lonely?

Xoxo