Tad's Life

But not drinking all day long is truly hard. No juice. No Coke. No water. Nothing. For the first few hours, you don’t notice it that much physically. But in the afternoon, folks start to get quite irritable and focused on the passing time until they can break the fast. Try it some time if you want to understand the dedication that being a good Muslim requires at this time of year. If you do, you will empathize more with those who try to nap at least part of the daylight hours away.

Now, when the weather is cool and your work is light, all of this is still fairly reasonable. But this year and in the next few years, with the shifting of the lunar months, Ramadan falls fully in Dakar’s hottest months. All of this week the relative humidity has been hanging in the vicinity of 95%. Temperatures were in the low 90s F. Working in the full sun, pouring sweat as you lift and dig and exert yourself. You can imagine that not being able to drink is a constant conscious act.

As Ahmet said in his sermon last week in Ouakam, there are many Muslims seriously seeking God. Pray that God will send them dreams like he did to Cornelius and open their eyes to His grace toward mankind in Jesus. Dedication and suffering in the name of God do not bring reconciliation with Him. Forgiveness and peace required a sacrifice and a holiness from outside our own efforts. Neither the Law of Moses nor the law of Islam can solve our spiritual dilemma.

In the heat, it’s not just those who are fasting who feel it, of course. All of us do. And I guess the power company decided we all needed to enjoy the experience to its fullest. It is amazing how little good a fan does when there is no power and how hard it is to sleep when you are sweating! This has been a week of power cuts both at the Phare and at home. In fact, the last few nights in Ouakam the voltage has slowly oscillated between 140V and 230V for an hour or so before it has completely cut out. It is a fascinating thing to hear all the fans in the house slow down to half speed and to have half the florescent lights go out and then 5 minutes later hear the fans come back to what seems like twice normal speed. Jonathan and I checked with my multimeter, though. It never was too high. We just got used to the low speed and dim light bulbs. Of course, if you’ve lived here long enough like me, when something like this happens you shout, “The fridge!!!!” and dash to the kitchen to turn off the poor suffering refrigerator. Compressor motors running at reduced voltages tend to work way too hard and can burn out. I got up at midnight the other night when the fan kicked on again and staggered out to the kitchen to reconnect our freezer and fridge.

All of this is not unusual for our lives, really. Over the years in Senegal we’ve gotten used to it. But we are feeling very badly for our new colleagues, the Toombs, who just came in Monday. First of all, they arrive in the midst of the hottest and most humid week of the year. Then, when we get back from the airport to the Phare, the power is cut. Worst of all, we have had to put them in one of the guest apartments because our old place wasn’t quite ready. The guest apartments have wonderful fans and all, but when the power is out, they don’t get good airflow. What a way to start your life in a new place!

By His kindness, the Lord did send rain storms several times through the middle of the week and that helped a great deal the last couple of days. And then the power problems switched from the Phare side of Ouakam to our side. Not so good for the Hamptons, but much better for the new folks!!

House flies.

Ugly little buzzy things. Harmless really. They don’t bite or sting or attack us humans. But they sure are irritating. When I was growing up, in spite of screens, we’d have to deal with them occasionally. A fly swatter was sufficient. They felt somehow dirty to me, but they were within the limits of reasonableness.

Here in Senegal it is fly season. No, really. After 9 months of dry without any real rain to moisten the ground, we have had a series of rains for the last month. I may have to revise my statements about Dakar rain always coming in gully-washer downpours. We had one of those, it’s true, but the rest have been rather civilized gentle rains.

Be that as it may, rain brings with it flies. Our house filled up with them this week. We took time some days to kill dozens and dozens with our leather, Amish fly-swatter, culling their ranks just to make meal time possible. Jane even too the swatter with her to defend herself while she and Antoinette did first-aid with the talibé outside in their shelter!

But I must tell you that when I walked home from the Phare today, [Mom, have I told you that I’m walking home several times a week? It’s just over a mile and I work up a good sweat and I’m sure it’s good for my heart health!], I experienced flies in a different kind of way. An emotionally out of bounds way. Visceral, I believe the word is.

You see, my path from below the lighthouse near the ocean across the hill to our neighborhood goes through one of the few undeveloped areas on the peninsula. And as anyone who has traveled in a poorer city can tell you, vacant lots are never empty. They are always filled with garbage. Not trash, thank you. Household garbage! Now during the dry season, it isn’t so bad. Low humidity and hot sun quickly render organic materials into a state that is mostly odorless and only mildly offensive.

But when the rains come, my, oh, my.

And where there is wet, organic waste, there are flies. Many, many, many flies, clustering and swarming and making enough noise in community to make you think of much larger beasties from your nightmares. Be glad I didn't have my camera with me to get video!

Now I’ve been walking this path for many years. It didn’t used to have much garbage. The houses were too far away. But my straightest path (you can see its trace on Google Earth if you look at the empty field in the middle of the photo here) goes right behind where many of the talibé live. Due east down the gentle sloping hill from Mamelles on towards ASECNA and COMICO. I love this walk.

Today, when I lifted my eyes up and ignored the flies and the smell of garbage, I had such a vista to behold. Rain clouds were rolling in from the interior of the continent. They were spread from north to south in one wide band. The air was crystal clear and blues and purples were so very vivid. And I could feel the enormity of this globe. My spirit was refreshed. My thoughts moved to the Lord. And though I didn’t forget the flies, they did fall into perspective.

God is good. I hope you get a glimpse of Eternity today, too.

PS [ You Google Earth fans can try 14°43'41"N; 17°29'39"W if you want to see the path!]