The irrepressible urge to capture one’s life…

We humans have been carting crap around since time immemorial. While we’ve got innovations like the post office and moving services of varying professional competency, what I’m really thinking about is the act of carrying something somewhere for the emotional benefit of another person. These days we pay any price to ship something from one end of the world to the other, but there’s a more indirect and cost-free process that is happening every day. You take part in it and so do I— and for me it speaks to our capacity for altruism just as much as it exemplifies the persistence of human decency.

A few years ago in Washington, DC,  I was leaving work at the end of the day and received a message on my voicemail.

“Hello Megan, this is Mah Sere. I am in town and have something for you…”

Upon hearing the voice of a woman I had only met once on another continent, I instantly hung up and returned the call. My day had suddenly become special. I was about to get a piece of West Africa dropped into my American life, and this was completely unexpected. Mah Sere had been passing through Dakar on her way to Washington, and in doing so a mutual Senegalese friend had the foresight to prepare a care package that Mah Sere would eventually hand deliver to me “somewhere in Washington”. All she needed was to call the phone number she had been given and set up a pick up point. That’s why I called her back so quickly to ensure that the final steps of this odyssey would be accomplished.

Goods from abroad, even wrapped up in the local paper. Makes it all feel within reach.

And of course the delivery went off without a hitch. I even had enough time to gather a return package for her to bring back to the continent, because you never want to waste a transatlantic journey. These processes— devoid of any conventional USPS tracking number— always have a way of sorting themselves out.

Your friends will also send you things that they know you miss.

There’s a Pony Express of sorts that strings this entire planet together.  It gets parcels from one place to another through the volonté of many people both strange and familiar. Another example: sometime late last year, a person I know in Senegal posted a photo of herself wearing a scarf bearing a scramble of West African patchwork. To me, the photo looked like a Lite-Brite of remembrance that I was desperately missing in my dark and wintry corner of northern Europe.  I had no idea if it would be possible, but I threw a question out to the universe to see if I might get my hands on such a scarf.

Once you go, you know that these crazy patterns mean something special.

Fast forward to last month, and wouldn’t you know that I got a package containing several diakhassé scarves that arrived in a padded envelope with a return address from somewhere in America. My friend in Senegal was under no obligation at all to pick me up some swatches of West African color, but she went ahead and did it anyway. She then sent the bundle off with the next person she knew to be traveling east. Upon arrival back in the States, this person went to a post office in and mailed the everything to yours truly— a third party of unknown quantity to this courier who only served as a sort of connective tissue.

The Senegalese are very big on manners, and accordingly I communicate my thanks.

Just like in the online photograph that I saw months ago, the triangles of wax fabric now wrapping around my fingers were nothing short of cheerful. They brought a brightness to my London fog, and no sooner did I have one around my neck that I set about to penning a thank you card to the return address at the top of the package. Thank you, kind Samaritan! May the universe repay your selfless gesture tenfold!

Passport, tickets, breast pump, internet routers. The usual things you bring to central Africa. No, really.

I kind of love this give and take of effort, and it’s not just because I get to be on the receiving end of some truly remarkable craftsmanship. Indeed, I’ve lost count of the times where I’ve traveled from one place to another while carrying parcels intended for other strangers. The best item I ever packed away was a breast pump that someone in Texas mailed to me while I was living in DC.  The box showed up at my house while I was planning a trip to Rwanda.  I had emailed a friend of a friend who lived in Kigali and asked, “Do you need me to bring you anything?” A black nylon back arrived at my house soon thereafter and it suggested that some congratulations were in order. Of course I was more than happy to ensure this equipment would make the final 7,200 miles that it needed to go– but I did secretly hope that I wouldn’t have to do any explaining to the Rwandan customs agent.

Next stop, Edinburgh!

So while I’ve got a couple of scarves and love how they brighten up my flat, I am not quite finished in carrying out my role in the modern day Pony Express. I asked for extra scarves to be mailed because I know others who will also appreciate the fabric just as much as I do. I’m balling each one up and sending them along in the hopes that other folks with memories of Senegalese teranga will one day open their mail and be greeted with something unexpected yet instantly recognizable.

Next time you’re in the airport, think about all the good stuff that is slowly making its way across the world’s borders.

Money can buy you lots when we talk about cutting out the middle man and rapidly acquiring goods of questionable significance. But sometimes it’s not the cold and impersonal transaction that makes scoring an item truly special. Often, it’s the things that come to our doorstep only after a certain amount of luck, patience, and most importantly a whole lot of benevolent helping hands— those are the things that ultimately hold the greatest value. They remind us of how connected each of us really are, and ultimately how easy it is to stay connected to the people and places we cherish most.