Senegal Reflections

My daughter, Rowan, my Dad, Rod, and I are on our way again. It is amazing to realize I have thought or written or said this phrase 22 times now since that first trip to Senegal in 2010. I recall the feeling of stepping out of the airplane and into the African sun over 13 years ago. I had longed to see this continent that my sisters and nieces and nephew descended from so many generations ago. Where we all did, so many dozens of centuries before that.

Although walking down the steps of the airplane has become familiar, each trip here uncovers something new, brings new lessons, and still offers a deep sense wonder. At the vastness of the land. At the harsh natural and unnatural justice that seems to reign here. At the generosity and hospitality I experience every time. At the hope that persists, despite everything. At the grace so many seem to attain. 

Occasionally we unwittingly allow the mistake of feeling a sense that we are getting to know this place. But then that budding comfortable sense soon all gets turned upside down. Like when we ventured out after midnight for the first time on our first night run in search of runaway talibés on their own on the streets. Like when a few years after a visit to a daara to help a boy’s foot be saved with antibiotics, I met him again 

and he showed me that foot still intact, that just helped him win a football match. And when a child of my heart was invited and hosted to meet and converse with Pope Francis at The Vatican, because Arouna really is that special and amazing. Like when on another occasion visiting “The Bush” for the first time, hours into the desert to visit a project of school building that changed everything for that region. On another 

occasion receiving testimonies and pleas for help from ten and eleven year old girls who, having discovered education, are resisting early forced marriage. In another remote shepherd’s village receiving astonishing hospitality from those that can least afford to offer it. Seeing people willing to risk everything, even life itself, in pursuit of hope for an education such as so many take for granted back home. And like when a very special young man graduated from university, after having come so close to attempting a desert crossing in search of hope. Watching my 

daughter lead a live video interview between talibés and Commander Chris Hadfield. Helping my son Introduce martial arts and encouraging it to blossom among the talibés, uncovering confidence, pride, and generating new sense of belonging for so many who had none. The terror and triumph of being part of a family’s desperate and successful attempt to save their girls from rural relatives’ attempts to “circumcise” their daughters. Being honoured with a girl child being named after me. Being welcomed and surprised in so many new ways. Every. Single. Time.

What does this visit have in store for us? Impossible to truly predict. But, we will be visiting the remote region of the school building project. There are five schools there now. And hundreds of kids studying, over half are girls, and most of the rest are boys that were spared the fate of being talibés due to the new presence of a school, or have returned from the streets. A donation from a generous friend in Canada helps make this possible. Another friend is travelling with us this time, Vicki. I have no doubt her compassion and medical talents will lead to amazing things. And my dentist donated hundreds of toothbrushes. And my optometrist donated dozens of prescription glasses. And as always, our 

luggage is full of donated karate gi’s. Despite Robbie not being with us this time I will host a karate tournament at Maison de La Gare with Sor-Karate. A day for the talibé karate kids to be the stars. Rowan and I hope to figure out and establish a major scholarship for the rural new schools region, to help keep the hope alive. And so many friends and Godchildren to visit.

More than anything, it is the relationships I have built that keep drawing me back. acquaintances have become friends. Friends have become like family. My many Godchildren. My awe at the courage and determination and joy of the most vulnerable of children. And of course, the draw of Maison de la Gare. As imperfect as it sometimes is, it is an amazing grass roots place of refuge and love and hope for kids who seem to have been set side by society. And to do this with family is wonderful. Particularly to observe my own kids’ character develop through this service and love. And it continues to be awe inspiring to do this with my Dad, who made this all possible, and who continues to give so much of himself, with impossible energy and perseverance, to Maison de la Gare and its children. I am honoured my family and I have been welcomed into this place as partners and allies.