It’s going to be impossible for me to tackle this subject without inciting a few accusations of hypocrisy, but I’m going to do my best and write it anyway. 

As a Westerner living in Dakar, I am living a life that is neither commensurate with that of your average Senegalese citizen, nor is it the life that you’ll find in the little boxes on the hillside all made out of ticky tacky back at home. It’s somewhere in between the two.

I was talking to a fellow American the other day about what it will be like to transition to life back in the States. On the one hand, we talked about all the things that we have missed- to include the perverse number of consumables that will soon be at our fingertips. On the other hand, we talked about how we have gotten quite used to “doing without” during our time in Senegal.

Doing without. These are the two words that I hesitate to use. What exactly does that mean, anyway? And really- with all of the modern comforts that I was able to stuff inside of a shipping container, am I really going without in West Africa? I mean, my beautiful modern apartment boasts American-procured items like Bob’s Red Mill nutritional yeast, pumpkin spice Yankee Candles, and Kiehl’s Amino Acid Shampoo. I’m hardly walking the streets barefoot.

 Making do with what you have.The scene near Marché HLM ce matin.

It’s easy for me to lose perspective on things. I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m an extremely self-centered individual who is always plotting to obtain things that will positively contribute to my overall happiness quotient. That’s just the way I am. Accordingly, there have been many days here where I have wanted to snap at my yawing taximan and exclaim, “Can you manage to not drive into oncoming traffic?”  And then I look at the car coming at us and observe that it is a car rapide crammed with a dozen locals who are too poor to ride in my crumbling taxi. See, it’s all relative- and on these days I try to use these moments to pull myself out of that “Dakar, j’en ai marre” kinda funk.

So while I recognize that I’ve got lots of great stuff at my disposal, I will say that some adjustments have been made to my daily routine by moving here. There are many impulses that I am not been able to act upon- for the simple reason that I just don’t have as many options in Senegal. I don’t have a car, I don’t have aisles of Trader Joe’s culturally-interesting food creations to tempt me, and I have also learned that it can take a wicked long time to get from Point A to Point B in Africa. Life is stripped down here- but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

 O fellow countrymen on the other side of this pond, most of us could probably do with a whole lot less.

I’m not going to name names- because that’s not the point- but I often look at Facebook and see Americans griping about things that now I find completely absurd. Really? Your day is ruined because the Starbucks barista put too much vanilla syrup in your drink?  It reminds me of that fabulous Louis C.K. rant where he rails against people who get pissed when the in-flight Wi-Fi isn’t working on the aircraft.

Again, I recognize that it’s all relative- and I also recognize that very shortly I will rejoin this pack of ‘Mericans who reflexively gripe about small obstructions to our carefully-constructed daily routine. It’s just a matter of time before I reclaim my former self, and I’m not exactly excited about the prospect.

I hope to God that when I return, I will retain the values of simplicity. I say it all the time, but Senegalese people by and large have far less than us, but they are also so much happier than we are. A couple of weeks ago I gave away some clothes to a woman whom I thought might be able to use some of my cast-off outfits. The next time I saw her, she thanked me profusely and told me that what I had given will last her for two years. She even went so far as to lift up her tank top and show me that the bra she was now wearing was one that I had placed in the bag. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked me.

Talk about a population that does without.

I didn’t anticipate such a reaction over a bag of clothes that I would have just as soon thrown into a Goodwill Dumpster without further thought- but I can tell you that this was an experience that fulfilled me way more than any shopping spree ever has. It’s the ridiculously automatic action of helping one another over here- you see it every day, and it helps people like me to recognize and appreciate the most elemental and fundamentally important aspects of life. 

Simplicity, community and generosity- these are the tenets that I hope have now been etched into my psychological skeleton. And if they can be served up alongside the occasional bottle of ice-cold Sam, then I’ll really count myself as a successful world citizen.