We drive in an air-conditioned land cruiser. Phil Collins asks for one more night. Mango trees and shrub land fly by. A herd of cows wander across the landscape. I’m tired. I am sad, I am happy. I reflect. I gave a presentation on Horticulture Management. It went well. It was translated from French to Wolof. I worked hard. I think of my friends, the people I have met. I think of BIOGAS stoves (download the instructions to build your own), the potential for Artemsia anuua as a large-scale treatment for malaria. I think of giraffes, Baobab trees, and the nature of International Development. I have existed in a world between social awkwardness and cultural ignorance for the last three weeks fueled by the hope and desire of not doing anything offensive without knowing it. Where the reassurance of my boss- “We are happy with you, your work, and we wish you could stay longer working with us”-provides much solace to me in the world in between. We hit traffic. There’s another herd of cows at the side of the road, people wander out in traffic, they sell cell phone cards, sticks for teeth cleaning, Muslim prayer beads, soccer uniforms, soccer posters, peanuts, bananas, cashews, carpets. I stare out the window. I can’t help but think that in a traffic jam it feels better to be moving slowly towards your destination than not moving at all.
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