How I Deal with Holiday Emotions

As December unfolds, I find myself getting a little depressed. Maybe it’s because I miss my friends and family who are undoubtedly doing things like laughing extremely loudly while drinking hot chocolate in front of fireplaces and wearing sweaters or ice dancing to holiday music as snow gently falls on their faces. These are my default images in all of my darkest moments. Because I cannot imagine anyone back home doing what, in all actuality, they probably are doing: just sitting, or something, or like eating chips out of a bag on a couch, or maybe being on Facebook during a meeting. No. In my dreams, America, as well as all of the people I love, are maestros of life, excitement, and action.

But to alleviate my sadness, I’ve been finding ways to distract myself. For instance:

I built this Christmas tree for myself using a metal rod I found in a garbage heap, an empty can of powdered milk, various paint brushes, and construction paper. I expected my host family to be embarrassed for me when they saw it, as the Senegalese typically shun anything whose beauty doesn’t depend on glitter or shiny aspects, but they were just all-around impressed. I admit that every time I walk into my little apartment and see my tree, it does make me happy. Success!

I also recently celebrated the Islamic holiday of Tamharit, or the Muslim New Year. Everyone had told me that it would be a decently raucous time, complete with a special meal of millet, chicken, and milk (in phases, not all together.) They also told me that children cross-dress and then go from home to home, demanding candy and money. As a strange character in Senegal who somehow encompasses both genders and all ages when it comes to cultural standards, I was encouraged to dress up like a man. I accepted because, duh. That sounds awesome. I figured I might even get some candy out of the deal. So using my own mannish clothes and face paint sent by my father, I turned myself into Moussa Coulibaly, an average Senegalese man who needs a wife:

Unfortunately for me, everyone else, including my fun-loving four year old host sister Bigue, refused to dress up. “I’m wearing girl clothes!” she exclaimed with disgust when I implored her to dress up like a man with me. Even the baby was weirded out. My family insisted that after dinner, we’d all go on a walk around the neighborhood and see all of the kids in their costumes. We went on a walk and saw no one, NOT ONE PERSON, cross dressing. Except for me. The magical cross dressing toubab of Thies. I somewhat resembled a gay pirate.

I also recently attended the US Marine Ball in Senegal, just like Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake!

My site mate Clare and I went on a double date with two Marines stationed in the capital. It was like a Cinderella story: two poor, dirty Peace Corps volunteers lavished with things like prom dresses and hair curlers then thrown into a fancy social situation with the elite ex-pats of Dakar. Actually, it was a lot like Cinderella, since around midnight, I totally crashed and turned into an exhausted metaphorical pumpkin. Too much excitement! But when the excitement includes things like watching Marines slice birthday cake with swords, you live with no regrets.

But ultimately, as an American, I can’t help but default to work as my number one to distract myself from FEELINGS. And in that respect, I have been successful. I’ve been working on making the Life Skills manual more user-friendly, which means new fonts! New pictures! And magical colors! But, cheesily, I admit that it does make me happy to see the changes I’ve made with it. Here's a small example of the original manual Bethany and I started working off of, and where it is now:

I have meetings during the next few weeks with our teachers about revisions, so hopefully those are productive. I’ve also started helping with local English classes again. For my first class, I’ve gone to a few different schools and taught listening comprehension using a lesson about schools in America. One class was especially chatty, and we had a fun conversation about the differences between Senegal and America. They were shocked at the idea that kids are basically locked inside schools all day, and I really enjoyed delving into the details of middle school dress codes in America. Your skirt must extend longer than your hand reaches, your tank top straps must be thicker than three finger widths, and you can’t wear shirts that advertise cigarettes or alcohol. It all came back to me so quickly!

So yes, this is how I distract myself. I also hope to indulge myself a little as the holidays draw nearer and take at least some sort of vacation to celebrate with friends. But until then, please, keep doing things like sledding at all hours of the day, riding horses, running through open fields of corn, climbing mountains, and going to McDonalds. It’s the American way.