A Final Letter Home

Dear Sending Community,

It’s been a while. I haven’t seen any of you in person since last August. Now June has arrived, and I have less than 2 weeks left in Senegal. I am writing this letter to you outlining my expectations, hopes, and fears for returning to the U.S. in July.

I know that transitioning back into life in the U.S. can be tough, according to YAGM alums who have been through that re-entry. I am not the same person I was when I left in August. Home is not the same place either. We’ve each had a year of life and change, all while halfway across the world. It is very likely that we have different expectations for one another.

At the current moment, I am planning on returning to Lindstrom and the surrounding area for a little while after returning to the U.S. as I search for work and continue to discern my future plans. In the short term, I will be around and looking to reconnect and enjoy the company of my loved ones who I have spent so long without. However, I would like to request your patience and understanding. I will also want space and time alone. I will be readjusting to American culture, and need to learn how to incorporate what I’ve learned this year into my life.

Grief and Leaving

I am a new person. I’ve lived life for a year in an environment that is bound to change a person. And even though I will return home, I am not going to re-become the person I was before this year. I hope you are able to recognize and accept that quickly. If some of you could go as far to even appreciate that, I would absolutely love it. This year, I have learned things that I wouldn’t have been able to in the U.S. Many of these lessons center around my privilege, racism/combating racism, sexism/feminism, interfaith relationships, and oppressive systems. They are really valuable, and have made me a better person.

I’ve realized that I don’t want to leave a place I have come to love against the difficulties of living in a new culture for the first time. This place is practically a desert, but I have found the people to be so full of life, and so full of love. It may not always feel like it, with the passive-aggressive culture, blatant patriarchy, and barrier of being a white American in a place where colonialism (done by white people) did so much damage and took so much power. But, the hospitality, generosity, and strength of these people shines through. I feel so loved here, and my coworkers and host family especially have been an amazing blessing.

I will be struggling when I get back home. It might even look like grief. I will likely be resentful that home is not Senegal (though, of course, there are reasons I am actually glad that is not true). I’ll miss Senegalese hospitality, openness, and lack of Islamophobia. It will likely be bizarre and overwhelming to be able to understand everyone around me. It will be odd to not be called “Watéo” anymore. There are many things which I have become accustomed to this year – they have become my new normal – but those things are not like that in the U.S., so I will have to readjust.

The Systems Which I Call Home

This year, I’ve learned a lot about oppressive systems I am a part of and met people who are on the other side of that system. I’ve seen how colonialism, even when we say it’s “in the past”, can strain relationships. I’ve seen women use lotion to whiten their skin, to make themselves more beautiful. This lotion can cause cancer, and it breaks my heart that white culture (which includes me), has caused that narrow vision of beauty and the subsequent consequences. At work, some people assume that I am the one in charge of a meeting because of the color of my skin. My supervisors – all people of color – get diminished in that situation, and are constantly having to fight to remind people that they are fully capable as successful leaders. This is due to the culture of “West is best,” which still really means that the White way is the best way, the normal way.

As a woman in a patriarchal society, I have been hit on and proposed to by men more times than I can count. People have told me to go to the kitchen because I am a woman – literally. But I am not the one who will live in this culture my whole lifetime. The women of Senegal bear this burden every day. I will say that seeing their strength in the face of these demands and expectations fills me with hope. The women stand up for one another. For example, I once had an older woman run after a man who kept harassing me at a bus stop, telling him to leave me alone.

I’m not sure how to participate in my Swedish (aka, white ethnic) heritage anymore. I want it to be part of my life, but am not sure what is the healthiest (aka, not racist) way to do that. I’m not going to care about a lot of things American culture hails as important. That will offend some of you. I can be sorry for how I navigate those situations, but will not be sorry for realizing that some of American culture is disgustingly wasteful and ridiculous. I’m going to wrestle with how much I should feel comfortable (both physically, and mentally/emotionally). I’m going to wrestle with how comfortable other people are (and strive to be). I’m probably going to be a much more forward feminist. The word “charity” now leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth, and a lot of reservations. Mission trips kinda make me gag, and service work makes me really worried until I’ve heard enough details to hear that they are healthily engaging the community, putting the people they are serving in leadership roles within the organization, etc.

Personal Growth

This year I have gained a new level of confidence. I survived a year in a country where very few people speak English. I learned a new language (well, I’m not fluent, but I can get around). I’ve done things like drive a horse cart, run the laiterie (the creamery where I work) by myself, learned how to make jokes here, gone a fricking long time without cheese, danced at a Senegalese celebration, and a hundred other things I never expected I would do in my life. To state the obvious (if you’ve seen recent pictures of me), I’ve lost a lot of weight. These are things I feel proud of myself for (well, sad about the cheese part). I can’t take all the credit for all these things that happened, but I had the courage to say yes to the opportunities which put me in these situations.

Faith

I came here as a missionary who had no intention of converting anyone to Christianity. Instead, I looked to accompany people from different walks of life by living in an environment different than the American context I am used to. I certainly did so, and learned a lot by it. Viewing the peaceful interfaith relationships which are so integral to Senegalese society was powerful. My faith has been formed a lot by this year. My relationship with God feels more complicated, changed by my expanded worldview.

Closing

I cannot cover an entire year in a single blog post. Nor can I cover it within a few minutes of conversation when I return. This fact will require patience on both our ends. I pray that we can both be gentle and generous with our judgements (I hope to approach you with wonder and understanding), but I also intend to be firm and unyielding. Some of the things I have learned are uncomprisable, and I will act on them. I will also try to convince you of their importance, because I really think they are worth learning. So, this will be a bumpy road. But I hope we can accompany one another on it.

Sending lots of love,

Maddie / Watéo