De-miss - Quick! Draw a line in the sand!

Yesterday evening I got back to Thiès – tired, slightly under the weather, and in theory, demystified. Volunteer visit, which used to be called demystification and is still popularly referred to as “de-miss” by volunteers, is the part of training where we finally get to see where and how we will be living for the next two years. Why the official name is no longer demystification became apparent after the first day.

To be fair, I did leave Kolda with a MUCH clearer idea of what my future looks like. Saré Pathé Bouya is beautiful, with a huge “tree of life” at the center. I will be living in the chief’s compound, which is surprisingly one of the smaller, quieter compounds I saw. My hut is not quite finished, but is well on the way to being a lovely little home. It’s a concrete square with a thatched roof and I will have a backyard with my own pit latrine, shower area and shade structure under a mango tree. In the two days that I was able to visit my village I got to meet my host parents, my counterparts and my namesake – Naafi Mane - all of whom seem wonderful. Demystification accomplished.

Sort of. As much as I learned about my future life as Naafi Mane, demiss really highlighted how little I know about the work I’ll be doing, about the language I’ll be speaking, and about the people I’ll be living with. In fact I’d say I that I was pretty thoroughly mystified watching my host, Amanda chat away in Mandinka and carry herself with all the confidence of a successfully integrated volunteer while I sat quietly and smiled.

At the end of my second visit to Saré Pathé my host dad presented Amanda and me with a rooster to take home to her village. As he flapped around on the ground with legs tied Amanda took the opportunity to explain to all present that a chicken in this state is quite easily hypnotized by simply drawing a line in front of its field of vision. My host family was as impressed with the demonstration as I was and the trick was put to good use on our bike ride back to her village. During a quick water break Boubacar the Rooster decided to flap off of Amanda’s handlebars and take off rather clumsily into the bush. I held the bikes as Amanda went after the flailing Boubacar (who seemed all too aware of his pending fate). “Quick! Draw a line in the sand!” I yelled. And sure enough, his panic subsided long enough for her to grab him by the legs and get him back on her handlebars, where he continued to periodically fuss and flap until we got back to her compound and ate him.

This incident, in addition to being hilarious, has also come to represent the de-miss experience for me. Like the rooster, I had my moments of panic – when my language skills fell flat, when the reality of being the only American set in, when I had glimpses of the trials of village life, loneliness, boredom and the daunting task of implementing lasting change. Flap flap flapppp flap flapflapflap!

And then someone would draw a line in the sand - hiking into the bush to collect wild honey comb in the moonlight (probably the richest, most delicious honey I’ve ever tasted), eating cashew apples fresh off the trees, getting into the rhythm of village greetings, watching Amanda joke with her siblings, the exuberance of my namesake. Everyday there was something that got me flapping a little bit, something else that calmed me down completely, and the rest of the time I was just taking in the sights, bouncing along quietly on Amanda’s handlebars. So to speak.