Day 5 | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Day 5 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Cindy Maness
11/11/14
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Day 5
Senegal, West Africa
It was November 20th, 1999, My family and I were visiting our oldest daughter who was attending Dakkar Academy, a Missionary/Embassy school.
As the sun identified the day we had no idea what adventures we might encounter. Just driving from point A to B is an obstacle course not for the faint hearted. We set off in our van dodging drivers, and potholes some of which could sink a large horse. Why this pauperized society spent any money at all on traffic signs was baffling. I had to unhinge my blanched fingers from the door handle more than once during the ride. And speaking of a horse, we passed one lying dead on the side of the road; its decomposing body would not be touched or moved because the local population believed that any dead animal was unclean. Kind of ironic given what lay ahead. Superstitions replaced common practices.
As we came upon a town, I noticed the people had their tents and wares set up on either side of the road. It was hot and dry and people were milling all about. I noticed many women carrying buckets or baskets on their heads and babies on their backs. Haggling was their mode of entertainment. Their most boisterous phrase was “I give you good price.” Walmart was an unfamiliar name here. Clothes were made by tailors and fast food was a foreign concept. We had driven about a mile into town, and as we approached the center of it, I sensed a change. The first thing I noticed were the hoards of bombinating flies. The second thing that hit me was the emanation of disposal, death, and decay which stung my nose like a bullwhip. And right there, dead center in the middle of the town was a garbage dump the size of a subdivision with the road leading right through it! Filth. It was everywhere. Goats, dogs and rats were running about the place. Small children were playing in it. But to me, the most shocking thing about this scene was that many in the community had constructed their homes out of it! I sat in stupefied silence trying to regurgitate what my eyes had seen. It just didn’t seem possible.
I tucked those thoughts away as we picked up Pastor Francois from a nearby village. He shepherded the Christian village named Serer we were to visit and he would be our guide today. When we arrived we were surrounded by shoeless children whose tattered clothing hung with much margin on their meager frames. Hundreds of eyes fastened onto us as if we had just stepped out of Cinderella’s carriage. I could smell the parched earth under my feet as I took in more than just my surroundings. Pastor Francois guided weaved around make-shift huts as he explained that these people lived off the land by growing mostly peanuts and a few vegetables. They cooked from small fires on the ground of their thatched shacks. We were shown their diminutive patch of the world that included an aged well where they took their only water. The most meaningful things they did have were their faith and their family. It was then that a small, unpretentious girl with a tiny Hershey colored face and enormous dark eyes stared right through me. She took my hand as she led me into a small sparse church that was the foundation of their community. This little one never released my hand or my gaze.
When it was time to leave I desperately wanted to give her a gift. I searched our van for something worthy, but there was nothing but a box of baby wipes. I handed her one and by her expression you would have thought I had presented her with the Hope Diamond. She petted it in her tiny hands, inhaled its scent deeply and smiled. The last thing I saw through my water filled eyes was my tiny waif caressing her cheek with my gift. I was deeply moved and had to pull out another wipe to sweep away my tears. For me Day 5 was the catalyst that had me thinking about how incredibly blessed I am. I never thought I would be so affected by a simple little girl on the other side of the planet who could help me see the value of a baby wipe.

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