I should have known that it wasn’t going to be good when we opened the door to find three men standing there. It was evening, and I was visiting the other volunteers in my village, two Brazilian girls. I was on my way out, in fact, when the knock came. Being that they were three men, and that my Pulaar language skills are a little better, I agreed to stay…power in numbers. The men asked to come in, and we treated them with Senegalese hospitality. Cushions, cold water, “Bismilah!”
It became obvious that they were there with a purpose. They began asking about the soccer class that the Brazilians have in town. I was relieved! “Maybe they want to collaborate!” I thought. The girls explained that Ibrahima, the boy volunteer, has a class for boys, and that they have one for girls. Expecting to hear interest or praise, we were taken aback when they wanted to know why they were handing out books on Jesus at the soccer class.

“Books on Jesus??! I assure you, sir, we have not given out books on Jesus!”

“But you are missionaries? You are Christians? What do you do here??”

“Yes, we are Christians,” Crisea calmly explained. “And I have never given out material, but if someone asks me about my religion or beliefs, I answer honestly.”

And then it became evident why these men were here…

“Well, these young girls are very impressionable. It’s better if you don’t discuss those things with them. They may start to get ideas. And also, it is not a womans place to be playing soccer. To wear pants. Etc. She should be at the house, doing her work there.”

[WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAT?! Did I really just hear that?!]

Again, calmly, she says, “I assure you I have never given anything. I will continue to speak honestly with whomever asks me. That’s my right. And as far as soccer, we have permission from the parents of the girls. And it’s open, anyone can come watch.”

“There are people that don’t really know Islam. And we want you to know that if it were up to us three, girls would not be participating…,” he said.

As this man continued, I could barely believe my ears! In a year and a half, this was the first time anyone had blatantly said that a woman’s role is in the home, body covered, working, not playing. I had noticed inequality amongst men and women, but I had never heard it come from someone’s mouth directly! I was shocked! And more so that these men had the nerve to “put us in our place.” Till this point, I had been actively listening, but I could stay silent no longer when he began speaking of an old Peace Corps volunteer that had been in Medina Ndiathbe…

“After she left, we discovered that really she had been trying to convert people. She wouldn’t let anyone-not even her family!-in her room!”

At this point, I had to jump in. I explained that I was also a volunteer of the Peace Corps. I explained the goals of the Peace Corps: to aid in development, to gain knowledge of another culture, and to spread knowledge about America...and that it is not religiously affiliated.

He looks at me, dead serious, and says…
“What have we gained by her being here?”

[a dagger went straight to my heart.]

I stumbled over my thoughts…
“she had a garden, she did paintings, etc.” but instead what comes out is…
“What have you lost, by her being here??”

I, and many volunteers I know, struggle constantly with reassuring ourselves that we are doing good by being here. And while at times I think that people think I don’t do anything, I had never felt that they disliked the idea of me being there altogether. Is my presence, the presence of a foreigner, that unwanted?

“Well you come here and you learn all about us, and our culture, and live our lifestyle, and then you leave. We know nothing of you. This is just another way for America to dominate the world.”

[Another stab with the dagger.]

I was flooded with emotions. How do you respond to that? I have never had someone express such dislike for me. I felt attacked. More than that, I felt unliked for no real reason.

As the mosque called for the evening prayer, the three men got up, excused themselves, and left. As the door shut, we three girls began to cry and evaluate what had just happened. Had we been told to “know our role”? Were we not wanted here? Did everyone feel this way?? And to say that they are losing by my being here, was perhaps the most hurtful. I don’t do well with people not liking me, and not to “toot my own horn” but I usually don’t have that problem, so to have someone express such distaste, it really stunned me. All night long I thought and thought and thought about what the three men had said. I was shocked that they didn’t think it appropriate for girls to play soccer. I was appalled that they had the audacity to approach us. I was hurt that they thought my presence brought nothing to their community. And then I became rational. Who were these three men? They weren’t sent by the chief (whom I live with). They aren’t anyone official. I hadn’t even seen them before. The fact that three men, out of a town of thousands, don’t like me or want to like me, should not get to me. There are lots of people that like me, and downright love and enjoy me, and that is what matters, and what I have to remind myself. If after two years, people of Medina Ndiathbe can say,
“Oh yes, there was an American girl here. She was so nice.”
I will be content…even if they don’t know exactly what I do here.