Beth shares her experience of visiting her daughter, Justine, on mission in Senegal.

On a sandy side street of a densely populated area, the mission home in Dakar, Senegal beats with the presence of the Holy Sacrament in the chapel of a corner room. I witnessed the disciplined life of prayer that my daughter, Justine (USA), Pavel (Poland), Giovanna (Italy), Maïlys (France), and Ephigenie (Senegal) practice daily as the source of grace that allows them to overcome their own hardships of storing of water every night, food preparations and cleaning, personality differences, and navigating the difficult city transportation. Although not totally understanding French, the singing in the churches and chapels was magnificent and awe-inspiring. There was a wonderful, joyful openness from the young missionaries to the many people who come to visit and the many children in the neighborhood seeking an extended parental love and guidance.

I was enchanted by the timelessness of life in Senegal. It seems biblical in character. It is a very hot, dusty place busy with life and with bright, colorful patterns worn by its inhabitants. Artisan wares and food vending, masonry building, horse and donkey carts, sheep, goats, and chickens all coexist in the city thronging with buses, taxis, and cars in an unstructured harmony. We visited Efi’s village outside Dakar and her extended family, who was waiting for the growing season of millet/peanuts in their farming compound. We rode to Church on a cart hitched to one of their horses and passed by Baobob trees (a very convincing Tree of Life). We made visits to Louise and her son Alphonse on an upper floor of an apartment building overlooking a minaret, from which calls to prayer waft over the city. We were stopped by Badje, the gardener, who invited us to his room on the way to visit the garbage dump Mbeusmbeus. We visited Lazare, the blind man and his wife and two other women caring for a disabled child.

Perhaps what best summarizes my experience is in the way of eating. Carefully prepared variations of millet couscous or rice with fishes, eggplant, sweet potato, roots, green onions and peppers mashed with a wooden pestle and then served on a large platter. It became for me the overriding symbol. A star is created as you eat with friends and family and like rays joined to the center, the borders between us diminish (even language barriers especially in my case) by the shared plate.

I’m so grateful to have made this trip and experience it with my daughter, who was so gracious in translating and making me feel at home in a place so foreign.