- we are not leaving the apartment
- we have the door and security door locked
- we’re keeping an eye on internet news sources
- we’re keeping in touch with friends across the city via text messages and emails

Or, as I like to call it, ‘just your average day as a new mom’!

He's on down-lock too.

Last night it was announced the current president will be able to run again in February’s elections, along with 13 other candidates, but that singer Youssou N’Dour will not be able to run. As a result of this announcement, there were riots in Dakar and across Senegal. One policeman was killed and other people injured. Police fired tear gas to disperse crowds that were throwing rocks, lighting tires on fire and heading towards the presidential palace.

Here in our neighborhood, the street scene seemed normal. (Not that we were out for a family promenade or anything – just looking out the windows and from the balcony.) We could hear sirens and hear loud booms for a couple hours. This morning things seemed calm, even downtown.

At about 2pm we got a message saying that there are rioters near the university, which is a couple miles away. The best analogy I can think of for the situation and whether we are in any real danger is the difference between a hurricane being a couple miles away (that’s dangerous) or a shooter a couple miles away (no danger to you if you’re at home).

People are saying things will heat up again as the day progresses and tonight will be especially… not good.

To-do list item #4: Paint dresser for Alec's room

So we are keeping it on the down-lock. We had made a list of things to keep us busy and from going stir-crazy. We’re going through items on the list super fast, so send us your ideas!

We moved into a house we’d sublet, re-learned getting around Dakar, reconnected with old friends, made new friends, dusted off our Wolof and learned more, found a church, opened a bank account, quit my job, found an apartment, rented it, moved across town, furnished the new place, got electricity and water going in our name, met our neighbors, found new grocery stores and fruit/veggie/phone card vendors. Oh, and had a baby.

Today the Constitutional Council will announce its decision as to whether or not the current president can run for a third term in February’s election. That decision will play a huge role in the future of Senegal, especially for the next year. We don’t know what to expect out of the next 365.5 days, but we pray that they will be peaceful and that wise leaders will selflessly guide this country that we love and now call home.

No, not a flea bag. Flee, as in ‘to flee the country’.

This morning we packed for a trip we hope to never take. With the upcoming presidential elections and the increased tension here in Senegal (video here), we’ve been advised to prepare ourselves for worst-case scenarios which include either not being able to leave the apartment for an extended period of time or needing to leave the country in a hurry.

These two extremes require different kinds of preparation, as one means you need lots of extra stuff on hand (food, water, batteries…) and one means you take the absolute minimum (legal documents, toiletries and a change of clothes in a backpack) and leave everything else. Gulp.

We were given packing checklists, which were very helpful. But when you’re standing in your bedroom with closets and drawers open, it’s hard to decide what makes the cut. If it comes down to an evacuation, will I need jeans and a sweater for airplane travel and possibly a cold-weather destination? Will we go somewhere that I’ll need a long skirt and modest top with sleeves? Depending on where we go, will Alec just need onesies or should I pack his winter hat and little fleece-wear? One thing is sure: diapers. I’m packing lots of diapers.

The checklist also included good walking shoes, a canteen, sunglasses, sunscreen and hats. I suppose this in case we walk across the desert, which is not very likely. But there’s good news, folks. Alec is prepared and in case of a trek across the desert, he will be quite stylish in his chapeau with sun tail.

When I lived in Senegal before, in an apartment without a bathtub, my friends let me come over and take a bath in theirs as a special treat on Christmas Eve. It was wonderful.

We had a tub in the house where we lived last year, but not enough water pressure to fill it. I tried once shortly after we arrived and got about two inches of water, but it took so long to get there that the water was just this side of lukewarm by the time I got in.

My only other attempt was when I was eight months pregnant. It. Was. So. Hot. And we were having both a power and water cut. I was about two miles beyond miserable. I dumped our bucket of reserve water (about 100 degrees at room temperature) in the tub then added two large frozen bottles of water to cool it down. I sat there sobbing and dumping ice water over my head until I was shivering, loving every icy cupful.

Considering that was my last attempt at a bath in Senegal, I decided it was time to give it a go in our new apartment. It’s been in the low 60s at night here, which feels great, but can be chilly when you don’t have a way to warm up indoors. Perfect bath weather.

After Alec went to bed, I started running the water as hot as possible. It was a healthy trickle and fairly hot. Fifteen minutes later, it was a tired, warm trickle. (I tried not to think of how much it felt like someone peeing in my tub.)

That’s about when Cheikh put on his superhero cape and saved the day. Twenty-five minutes and one big, stockpot of steaming water heated on the stove later, I had my bath.

And it was wonderful.

Three days before we left the US, we got two very interesting and surprising emails. The first was from a friend in Senegal, offering us space in a suitcase to send over stuff if we needed to. The second was from my sister-in-law, giving us a gift card to Babies R Us.

This was just days after my mother-in-law (and others) had prayed that we would find a way to send American formula and cereal for Alec since what we can get here is, well, let’s just say it’s not ideal.

If you’ll pardon the pun…“Taste and see that God is good.” — Psalm 34:8

View at 10am on Wednesday

Hurricanes hitting the eastern coast of the United States originate from winds off the West African deserts. We’re right smack in the middle of some of those winds, arriving in the form a fierce and coughy dust storm.

On Wednesday, the skies were clear and gorgeous. Our house-helper was here that day and dusted and mopped the apartment. It had cooled off some, so there was no need for the cross-breeze. So when she left, I closed the windows to keep the dust out.

That evening, the winds started picking up. And up, and up, and up… Yesterday the dust started coming in and within hours we were down to less than a mile visibility. Crazy.

View at 10am on Friday

And what’s even crazier is how much dust got in with the windows closed! Everything feels gritty and gross. (Self and self’s toothbrush included.)

Dust accumulation in our apartment WITH WINDOWS CLOSED!

This is just one example of why I would not survive here without house-help. Those three days a week keep me sane. Sane-ish, at least.

1. Bucket water filter

Cheikh built this. It’s made from two buckets, two lids, a faucet fixture, three candle filters and some nuts and bolts. We run all our drinking water through it. It’s super nasty to see how brown and dirty the candles get in just a couple days. That’s for another post, another time.

2. Iron security door

The door was made by a welder friend of Cheikh’s. He also made a door stop out of iron pieces and an old flip-flop sole.

3. Reserve water

Absolute necessity since we’re still having daily water cuts. On days like today, it’s more accurate to say we have daily water availability! It’s been off most of the last 24 hours. So we store up water when we can.

4. Gas bottles for the stove
Really brighten up the kitchen, don’t they?

5. Indoor/outdoor laundry room

This is just off the kitchen. There’s a big double sink, tiled floors and walls, our washing machine and our lines for drying. So much easier than hiking up to the roof or walking down four flights of stairs to hang laundry.

Note: Anyone who think sun-dried clothes are soft and/or smell good has never dried their clothes on a line.

6. Extra ‘outlets’

Hole in the wall + extension cord. Problem solved.

7. Voltage regulators/surge protectors

These little boxes are also a must. They protect our appliances from power surges that fry expensive things up in an instant.

8. Bidet

Of course, if you’re reading this from Europe, you might have a bidet. But it’s a safe bet that people in the US do not. Also a safe bet that your husbands did not request they be installed…like mine did. But they do make excellent foot-washers, stained-clothes-soakers and baby baths.

9. Glass slat windows

We actually only have one of these. The others have all been replaced.

10. A fuse box that looks like this.

Warm, sunny weather. This is the best time of year in Senegal. The nights drop gently to the low 70s. Perfect. And bright sunshine… so nice.

The view from our terrace. 

Every night it’s a different kind of amazing. And once the sun goes down, we can sit out there and watch the planes come in for landing. It’s strangely hypnotic and calming at the end of the day.

Pizza and movie night with Cheikh, but hopefully not with Alec. I’m hoping to get him down to bed about 15 minutes before the pizza is done. We’ll see how that works out… Any movie suggestions for us?

The ritual of greeting people, asking about their health, their family, their work, their day… And of course, ’tis the season to add a whole extra layer of greetings and well wishes for the new year (Dewenati!), asking them to forgive any past offenses (Baal ma aq) and then forgiving theirs. You just don’t hear much of that in the US, eh?

Walking up to our apartment and feeling like it’s home. When I first enter the building, I see the outdated tiles, the peeling paint, the cracked floors… and I think, “I can’t believe we live here.” But as I climb up the stairs, at every door I pass, a memory crosses from an exchange with the people in those apartments. The distinguished, elderly professor who lectured in cities across the US, the high school senior studying for med school entrance exams, the pregnant mother who sympathized with Alec’s crying… And by the time I get to our apartment, I am so happy we live here.

Hummus from Shady Shack. (And everything else from this restaurant!) Before leaving for the US, we heard rumors that he would possibly be closing the the public, possibly be relocating, possibly be doing a lot of things. All I know is this: I am back and I need some SS hummus. Who’s got the scoop (ha ha) on where I can find it?

Mmm... world's best hummus topped with olive oil, cumin, hot pepper and black olives.

Kitchen Aid and grill. In a sweeping show of domesticity, I got Cheikh a grill for Christmas and he got me a Kitchen Aid. We haven’t exactly mastered either yet, but looking forward to tackling them now that we’re back. Any recipes or tips to share?

The little world traveler. When people asked if it was his first flight, he'd just say, "Pfffthhht!"

Our South African Airways flight landed in Dakar at 6:11am. Getting off I thought…

80° is warm. Smells like ocean and… incense. Wow – humid too. This feels like Atlanta in the summer.

That guy dressed like a thug just kissed the ground. He actually kissed the ground. He looks so happy.

I hear Wolof. I’ve forgotten 87% of my Wolof.

Those three must be Peace Corps Volunteers. Totally unaffected and uninterested by the craziness going on at the arrivals terminal. Can you call a big room a ‘terminal’?

That couple must be here for the first time. I recognize that overwhelmed look. Part amazement and excitement, part ‘what are we doing here?!’.

The customs agent is asleep at his desk.

I hope Cheikh filled out the customs forms correctly. This is the tricky part… Praying for no hassles, praying for no hassles… Phew. No hassles. Yalla baaxna.

That customs agent is wearing a down coat and winter hat.

Is that… Yup. That’s a cat wandering around baggage claim.

Alec is going to grow up with this scene seeming normal.

Those signs are all handwritten in marker:
- Authorized personnel only.
- Form line here.
- No entry.

Are we the only ones who didn’t wrap our bags in Saran Wrap before checking them?

All five bags made it!

30 more steps… Mmm… More ocean and incense.

Nope. Don’t need a taxi. Don’t need to exchange money. Don’t need to rent a car. Don’t need a tour guide.

The streets are so empty at this time of day.

I hear birds – lots of birds. It sounds like waking up in Côte d’Ivoire when I was little.

Home.

Hmm… The top deadbolt has been pried off the door…

With Chris and Kate on Christmas Eve

My cousin Stephen and his wife Beth are renovating and adding on the house that belonged to my grandparents – a house that many of our family members have lived in over the years (including me!).

Before

After

So when the big Borders Family Christmas Shindig was held there this year, Stephen decided to have each person present sign the wall across from the main staircase. We each wrote our name under the day’s date, then all those who had lived in the house at one point or another wrote a bit about their time there. Once the scribblings were completed, they would be wallpapered over as a sort of family time capsule.

My parents writing on the wall

I don’t have a wall to write memories on, but I do have a blog where I can post photos. So here it is, part of our Christmas time capsule.

My mom with Alec and Jazmine

With Kate and Mom on Christmas Eve

Alec and Jazmine playing on the bed

Mimi and GrandGlenn with the grandkiddos

Enjoying some time with my niece

Asleep on my back at the Roth Family Christmas

Cheikh and his (toubab) brother at a café

Alec loves showing me his hand.

Napping with Aunt Britt on one of the Plague Days

Inspecting cousin Colton Trey

Asleep on Grandma Penni's shoulder

It's been fun, but I'm ready to get back to the land of 80° and feeling the dust between my toes!