Yaangi Noos, "Are you enjoying Life?"

Senegal Day 7, final reflections written by Michael DeVaul

We live in a world driven by speed, fascination with celebrities and more often enamored with financial wealth and material things. Technology allows us to quickly move into conversations that can lead to speaking at times before we have all the facts and judging without context.

Over 13 years ago, the YMCA’s of Senegal and Charlotte, NC agreed to form a partnership inspired by our connection of history.  In many ways, this has been a reformation plan to recapture what had been dismissed 300 years ago.  We are best defined by our human qualities of caring and respect for mankind and each other. In 2004 the YMCA’s had dreams of sharing best practices, a rebuilding of sorts, believing that together we could become stronger together, coast to coast.

Inspired by solid leadership, the YMCA of Senegal had five locations; today they have eleven spreading both north and south building community in every step, every hug, and every handshake. Back then they had thoughts of growing a school from preschool to sixth graders. In 2004 in the city of Dakar they had just 26 students at the Y school, today they have a strong school that hosts 426 students, a testimony to hard work and dedication to meet a community need. They are not unlike the YMCA of Greater Charlotte, we both stand committed and inspired to improve education and community health for all as we know illiteracy anywhere, leads to poverty everywhere.  The above are just examples of what can happen with vision and determination.

Senegal and Charlotte share commonalities of the North Atlantic ocean, red clay dirt and a coastal heritage and history that is rooted in the generations of West Africans who still today take resident in and fill the Coastal Carolinas and Coastal Georgia. Much of the early success of the Carolinas can be traced back to the importation of transatlantic slave labor from the 16th to the 19th centuries. Lots of souls were lost on all sides as the basis of this relationship was largely transactional driven by greed and commerce.

On Saturday, November 25th, twelve YMCA of Greater Charlotte volunteer and staff team members set out on a journey to explore, exchange and embrace with enthusiasm and uncertainty to become Global Ambassadors continuing to build a bridge between a state and a country. Over the past week, we asked team members to share their story of triumph, heartbreak, jubilation and most of all self-discovery. Our Senegalese Y family has a way of embracing each team member with their own truth without judgment giving each individual just enough of a glimpse the richness in the ethnicity, religion, linguistic and cultural diversity of a welcoming people.

Yaangi Noos is a term in Wolof that means “Are you enjoying Life?” it exemplifies the fun, laid back spirit of the country. The response would be Waaw, which means yes in Wolof. Asalaamaleikum is also a phrase meaning “Peace be upon you”, spoken by many as we walk onto street or walk into buildings. By day three, I could sense a strong sense of calmness in our team as we traveled to many locations. I could feel the pause and reflection with every question, with each interaction, with every tear, with each hug or handshake. Our 2017 team, like others who have come before them, begin to shift from a U.S. centered lens of scarcity to a global lens of abundance. Moving from a sense of privilege to an appreciation of fellowship and shared accountability, moving questions of the transactional investment to inspiring transformational, systems thinking. By day seven, they have evolved to equity leaders, bonding through new friends and family and with each other.   This is at the heart of our global service-learning program; to produce leaders to can see beyond their borders, their home community broadening and strengthening community globally, locally.

Our YMCA internationally celebrates Y Leader John Raleigh Mott who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1946. He was known as an international leader who sought to advance understanding and reconciliation. He organized youth exchanges, set up study groups, and arranged international youth camps. He criticized the oppression of colonial peoples and was a pioneer in the struggle against racial discrimination. In his acceptance speech he suggests, “In this world-wide effort I have concentrated on successive generations of youth. If I were to add a word it would be a word of abounding hope.” John R. Mott traveled to 83 countries, often times more than once, working to inspire young people to embrace and to testify, “that WE will all be ONE”. He dedicated his life to developing global leaders, global ambassadors.

With each trip we build upon his vision to multiply the mission with people, that’s how we rinse challenge to become opportunity converting ourselves to believe it is not about our wealth but how we invest in each other.  Investment leads people to become rich in discovery, curiosity and one other. When we invest in people, they invest in each other, in their neighbors and community.

Congratulations to Scierra, Symone, Xzabia, Courtney, Dena, Jordan, Toussaint and Heather, Todd, Denise and Elle for the completion of the trip and for sharing your stories transparently. As I challenge each of our global ambassadors every year, find yourself in the world and take a moment to ask yourselves “what would John R. Mott do?” You are soldiers for social good in a worldwide Movement that is hungry to reap a harvest of your learning’s both in Charlotte and in Senegal.
Thank you to Jean, Diacounda, Malik, Alphonse, Adriane and so many others who made our journey a special one. The Senegalese team taught us to enjoy life and its meaning.  To that we say, Waaw!

For more information on the partnership and Y global services visit: https://www.ymcacharlotte.org/community/global-services.aspx

Or follow our Facebook page at: www.facebook.com/DIGCLT/

Written by,

Michael DeVaul

Chief Community Impact Officer

YMCA of Greater Charlotte

Gorée Island

Written by Heather Sutmiller, Johnston YMCA

Today's travels took us to Goree island, a 15 minute ferry ride from Dakar. Goree island played a large role in the European slave trade for 312 years (1536-1848). Currently there are approximately 1,500 residents, 70% Muslim, 30% Christian, "all who live in harmony" (this has been expressed frequently throughout our visit, which I will talk about a little later in this post). To say that the history taught to us was difficult to hear would be an extreme understatement. I can say, without a doubt, this island and it's history resonates with many people, most of which may never get to visit but may always feel an emotional connection to it. Nothing said can give justice to the events that took place but I do think it is my responsibility to share a small glimpse to those who may never get to experience this opportunity.

I want to share a few pieces of information with you, to help shed light with those who may not understand the magnitude and devastation that occurred during those 312 years. 

• Approximately 20 million slaves were traded from this island alone and 6 million individuals lives were lost due to illness, sinking boats, and those seeking to escape (just to name a few reasons).


• Goree island has also been called the island of sharks in reference to the result of the lives lost in the water around the island.


• Young female children would be traded for items like necklaces or a bottle of rum.


• There was a requirement that a male slave needed to weigh at least 60 kilograms before he could be traded. If he did not weigh enough he would be sent to the waiting room where he would be forced to eat excessively for up to 3 months to gain weight.


• Family members were sold separately to ensure the end of family ties.These are just a few of the heartbreaking and sobering facts presented during our tour. Words can not describe the atmosphere within the walls of the slave house as people from around the world stood in the exact same spots these events took place... few people spoke, some cried, many reflected.

Though there is far more work to be done in the world I have been blessed with this incredible opportunity/trip to help remind me of how far we have come. This brings me to the point I brought up earlier, the culture of harmony and hospitality this nation shows on a constant basis is a great example and reminder of the kindness we can spread throughout the world.
I have learned that the Senegalese are raised to protect the foreigner. You see that from a young age children receive a lot of protection and respect as well as taught about the importance of sharing. They are taught to take only what they need and to share to anyone next to them who may not be as fortunate. This act of kindness and generosity was shown even in the simple gesture of children sharing their lollipops and even completely giving them away when not enough were available for all. Just as families share their meals from a giant bowl they share their difficulties and challenges with each other in order to help one another resolve any issues they may be experiencing.

I can't speak on behalf of anybody else in our group but my hope is to share the same light and kindness I have been shown over the course of this last week. If we can all accept our responsibility as children of God to love imagine how amazing that would be. The intention of this post is to serve as a gentle reminder (to myself and anyone reading) that certain actions and traits can take us a long way. The world will never see too much love, too much generosity or too much kindness so why not give it all we've got? Why not take each day as an opportunity to love, serve and protect our brothers and sisters in Christ. These actions need to be shared locally and globally and isn't that exactly the point of this trip and this partnership?

Lesson of the Young Rooster

Written by: Toussaint Romain, Fearless Volunteer, YMCA of Greater Charlotte Diversity-Inclusion-Global Committee

I have never seen a young rooster before. But there it was standing prominently on a heap of trash in this African desert pecking in search of worms. I guess food is food, no matter where it comes from.

Still, as our convoy pulled up to this remote African village after a four-hour drive, the startled young rooster spared no delay and took flight into the compound we came to visit.

I followed it with my eyes before noticing the most captivating sight ever. A sea of sun-kissed faces gathered underneath an ebony tree. These were Muslim women whose clothing, like the proverbial coat of many colors, brightened up this desert: the brightest oranges, yellows and reds you could imagine. Their rich skin color epitomized their deep connection to this African land. It was simply beautiful.

It didn’t take long for our group of YMCA leaders to enter the compound. We approached the ebony tree but not a single Muslim woman looked over at us. They were staring intently at something in front of them, but I could not see what it was. 

As soon as I turned the corner, it jumped out at me. I saw an oasis of children sitting neatly in the courtyard, which was by the ebony tree. This courtyard had been transformed into a classroom and these Muslim women were watching their children in class. I remembered when my mother used to do that to me when I was in primary school.

I turned my attention to the children who ranged in age from 5 to 15. They wore Muslim outfits underneath their school outfits and sat in rows while facing their teacher. There were about 6 to 7 rows and what seemed like 20 children sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in each row. Their teacher was a young 16-year-old male who took his teaching role seriously.

While our group tip-toed around that corner, I decided to sit among the pupils on the ground. I crept into a row of students hoping to maintain my inconspicuous presence. It was to no avail as the children around me giggled and laughed and pointed. “Toubob” one whispered. (“Foreigner,” he called me.) Another student couldn’t resist the temptation. She jettisoned her hand towards me and said “Good morning, sir” in a petite voice, stained with a French accent. Despite the fact that it was 4pm in the afternoon, I accepted her handshake and whispered “good morning” as well. She snatched her hand back in sheer joy as the other kids looked on with amazement. She had made contact with a toubob. It was fun.

But the fun was short-lived. The 16-year-old teacher turned around from the chalk-board and gave us a stern look. “L’Attention!” he said, before returning to his grammar lecture. The children did as he wanted but continued to smile at each other and at me. Its true: children’s smiles are universal – all kids share that same smile no matter where they are.   

As they returned to their lesson, I looked around at their courtyard-classroom.  I saw the same young rooster walking by the children, but no one paid it any attention. I looked up at the walls surrounding us. They looked tattered like a war-torn middle-eastern setting.

Still, this was not a scene from war-torn Afghanistan because no war had done that to this village. It was the result of sheer poverty. The village was falling apart because the villagers could not afford to maintain it. This was another universal truth in Africa, it seemed.

And then I did what most parents should never do…I allowed that one forbidden thought to enter my mind. I thought “what if this was my kid?” Because that girl over there smiles just like my daughter, so what if my daughter had to go this school? Before I realized it, the damage was done. That one single thought had pushed me over the edge and my threshold had been reached. This was Day 4 in Africa and I could not suppress my feelings any longer.

I quietly excused myself from the courtyard and returned towards the van. I sank my head into my hands so that no one would see the tears I was fighting back. I was overwhelmed by what I was seeing and how I felt.

As I walked out, our driver Malick Diof asked “sick?” Before I could answer, a familiar voice rang from behind us “no that’s not car sickness brother, that’s something else.” Michael DeVaul had been watching my downward spiral or at least he recognized my staggered jolt from the classroom and quickly pursued me with interest.

“Brother Toussaint, this is why we are here. To find schools like this and to invest in them” Michael said. “I know it doesn’t seem fair to see them like this, but this is why we are here.” He leaned closely to me and continued to say additional things. I acknowledged it but said I needed to some time to gather myself.

I walked away and found myself by that heap of trash again. And there was that wretched young rooster following me this time. Disgusted, I turned and walked the other way. There I found a group of young boys playing soccer. They waved at me to join them but I smiled and declined. It was very sobering to watch them play. I was struck again by a confluence of emotions.  

I returned to the classroom after 10 or 15 minutes and the headmaster was speaking. She had welcomed my group to her school, but told us that in truth this was her home and that she had been opening it up to the children in her village for years. In many ways, her home had become the staple within the community. She was keeping her village together.

This headmaster mentioned that all she needed was 100 XAF per student to provide school supplies for the entire year. That converts into 20 cents in US currency. 20 cents could provide pens, paper and learning materials for an entire year for one student. 20¢.

 

I couldn’t resist. At the most opportune moment, I grabbed this women by the hand and out of the view of everyone else, I emptied out my wallet. I had enough cash to pay for 100 children for the next several years and I wanted her to have it.

But please don’t mistake the moment. I was not doing this to be the American savior. Rather, I did it because I felt so ashamed and guilty for so many reasons but in particular as a black man. I hung my eyes from this woman and after I handed her all of that money, I cried on her shoulder.

But she looked at me and recognized the internal struggle that I was having.  As the village matriarch, she sensed that this visitor needed her. So she embraced me and said “its ok, its ok, its ok” over and over again. She ended with “God bless you” and then smiled at me. Again, the universal smile. I don’t know if you’ve ever cried on grandma’s shoulder and then felt immediately revived once she smiled at you, but that is how I felt at that very moment.

By now our group was packing up to leave. As I followed the pack, a 30 something year-old-male ran over to me. “Une photo avec toi” he asked in French. (“A photo with you.”) “Sure.” But the funny thing was, he didn’t have a camera. So I asked one of my group members to take it. We took the picture and then afterwards this man grabbed his shirt and pointed to mine. “Changer de chemises?” He wanted to switch shirts. I was initially confused but I obliged him. We switched shirts. He smiled at me. Again that smile penetrated my heart. His smile did something to me.

 

 

 

 

I didn’t realize it immediately. But this man didn’t want the picture for himself. That picture was for me. To remind me of something I haven’t quite figured out yet. He took my shirt not because it was fancy. But he took my shirt to remind that a part of me will always remain in that village.

I am connected to them.

From the children’s smiles, to the matriarch’s smile and my brother’s smile, they each reminded me of the Senegalese “teranga.” They each welcomed me home. So before I left I am sure you can imagine how I hugged each of them tightly and for as long as I could.

In the end, I returned to the van and as I got on I saw that young rooster, once again,  pecking at the heap of trash. But this time it looked up at me with a large worm in its mouth. It had captured a prize from beneath the surface.

It was then that Michael DeVaul’s final words rang with clarity. “Remember Toussaint, where we see scarcity, they see abundance.” Its all beginning to make sense. Where I saw trash, that young rooster saw fertile feeding grounds. Where I saw students lying in trash, filth and lack, the matriarch saw education, hope and opportunity. In other words, don’t look at the surface. Look deeply within. Hebrews 11:1, no?

There is still so much more to understand about my first trip to Africa but for now, I’m grateful for the to have had this moment of clarity with my African ancestry. I shall call it the Lesson of the Young Rooster.

Written by: Toussaint Romain

November 24th, 2017

Rooftop Thanksgiving

Written by Jordan Paulding- 7th grade Piedmont IB student (What Thankful is)

This Thanksgiving I’m so thankful I got to come on this trip. I am thankful for a lot of things like sleeping in a bed. There are a lot of kids that have to sleep on the dirt ground.  I’m thankful for the things I have and clothes I wear. I’m thankful for the YMCA and the staff and children I got to meet.  I’m most of all thankful for my family. 
Since I’ve been here we have had fun playing soccer with kids and adults, giving out candy and touring around Senegal.  

I liked the thanksgiving dinner too. This part was my favorite. When everyone announced their names it was funny because our group tried to say it in French but barely could.  I made a new friend too, his name is Hubert Mendy. It’s French. I also know how to say turkey in French it’s dinde. 

I even learned what tribe my family is from too. It’s called Bambara. They said I look like the people from that village.  African and US YMCA people know how to party!!!  It was fun watching adults be like kids at the after thanksgiving celebration. It was so much food at dinner.  

I think the president’s wife cooked everything. It was sooo good. Then the YMCA Senegal and the YMCA Charlotte signed an agreement to help each other. After we ate cake we all got gifts.  A real African shirt. THEN we partied until 1:00am.  It was way pass my bed time. Mr. Mike, Mr. Todd and Mr. Toussaint showed everybody their dance moves. But I think Xzabia and I had the best dances. 

There are a lot of poor people in Africa but they are so grateful for what they have and a lot of times are very happy and fun. It’s not always sad here. People really love each other here. I’m glad my mom let me come.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving in Sènègal Africa 2017

Written by Dena Paulding-YMCA Executive Director McCrorey Y (The Village)

The Village- We all have been there physically and metaphorically and for the most part getting through life lessons navigated by parents, grandparents, siblings, neighbors, teachers, mentors, leaders and peers has been important and at times, necessary.  These are our people, tribe...our village.   

Two preteens, and a teenager can teach you a lot about how you view the world.  Unconditional kindness and love, contagious laughter, the awe of something new, a lesson learned and the ability to connect and engage in an instant with little effort to total strangers in a foreign land. I’m so thankful for Elle, Xzabia and Jordan. Grateful that us adults saw fit to bring our future leaders to present day experiences. 

An early morning Thanksgiving speech from Xzabia started our day on the right path.  The sharing of smiles and “EyeSpy”with Elle lightens any mood and the eagerness of when we can play a game of soccer with the next set of kids from Jordan, all reminds us how to be thankful for the small stuff that make big differences. I’m thankful we have resources to share and the ability  to buy and distribute milk, rice and oil to a small village at our half way mark, back to Dakar.  

Children and teens welcomed us as we approached and ushered us to meet Diacounda’s (Pronounced:Ja-cön-da) Godmother Ndeye. She took pride in introducing family and friends in her village. Toussaint engaged in a impromptu dance with the elders, Heather and Denise ask questions on how meals were prepared and Jordan instantly became a focus for the teenage girls who giggled.  Sierra and Alphonse became fast friends with common interests. Michael and Todd strategized on how to move continuous resources, while Ndeye gave us all a tour of the sewing shop in her village. Symone, Courtney and Elle picked fabric where the ladies made garments and head dresses to sell.  We were all in awe of the quick skill it took to tie each of us in head dresses. It was fun showing them moff to our loved ones via Skype/FaceTime during our stop at lunch. Xzabia danced freely in the courtyard as curious children tried to mirror her moves.  The time was short but impactful. The village concept is very simple.  Work, communicate, share, laugh, help, forgive, guide, learn, love and Pray.