Ahhhhhhhhhhhh . . . real bikers!!

WOW! So I am clearly not keeping up with my monthly update schedule. Grad school is taking over my life a little more than I expected. I love it, but hate it, all at the same time. And I have so many stories from Senegalia; I need to get to telling them before they become stale. Teehee. Let's get started:

Several, several, several weeks ago my sister and I were out running errands in our fun little car. It was a great day, nice and sunny, not to hot and not to cold. Everything was normal until there was a frighteningly loud thud from the driver's side of the car and a very startled looking man somehow appeared smashed against my wind sheild. The whole thing lasted only a few seconds, but was the scariest event to have ever happened to me since I moved to the Big City. The only thought in my mind at that point was I just hit a biker and killed him. OH MY GOSH!!!

I promptly pulled over and managed to get out of the car. At this point, both my sister and I were trembling. I literally thought I was going to walk over to a tangled, bloody mess in the middle of the street. "That biker just rode straight into that car!" I heard a passerby say, but this detail didn't really register with me. All I could think was I had seriously injured an innocent person. 

"Sir! Sir! Are you okay?!?! Just stay where you are, I'm going to call an ambulance," I told the man sitting in the street next to his bike. 

"Yeah stay down, wait for an ambulance to come, man," came from another by-stander. 

In the time it took me to call the ambulance and figure out my location, the biker promptly stood up and rode away. YES!!! You read that correctly. HE LEFT!!! At this point, I'm even more confused than ever. I just finished calling an ambulance to help this poor man and he's gone. 

"He's alright, don't worry about it. You should just head out too," a third by-stander told me. 

"Are you sure he's okay? How do you know?"

"He's fine, don't worry about it. Just go on."

Being confused and terrified all at once is a very strange emotion. I called 911 again to cancel the ambulance. The responder on the other end of the line was just as confused as I.

 "Did someone take him to the hospital? Did you get his name or contact information? He just left?" All I could answer was "I don't know". The responder recommended I still wait for the police to arrive so tha I could file a formal report. I took their advice. My sister and I waited what seemed like HOURS for the cop to arrive. I'm sure that since the injured party left, the accident was not at the top of the priority queue for the police department. 

The cop was a very nice man. He explained to me that he had seen at least two other accidents of this nature in this same area; cyclists driving on the wrong side of the road, or running traffic lights, and hitting cars. They flee the scene because they know it's their fault and should be held accountable for the damage they caused. In my case, a few scratches on the bumper and a huge dent, Grrrr. The police report was written and it took longer than it should have, but Mr. Cop was super friendly the whole time. He did a great job of disapating my tension with his down to earth style. After the report, we ended the conversation like this:

"You look like a bright girl, and you said you're in grad school right. Well, let me ask you this question. I've asked this to so many people - nurses, doctors, everybody - and only a couple have gotten it right."

"Sure." In my head, I'm thinking, OH NO! I just started grad school. I couldn't tell you the difference between bacterial secretion systems and the tyrosine signaling pathway. He's gonna ask me something so hard and Imma look so stupid!

"What does DNA stand for? Not what it does or what it is, but what does it stand for?"

I almost passed out in my relief that I could actually answer this. "Deoxyribonucleic acid."

"That's exactly right. Everyone I talk to knows what it is and what it does, but how come they don't know what it stands for!"

I giggle in agreement

"Alright now, you have a good day and stay safe."

How does a day start with being hit by a biker and end in DNA? Only in Senegalia. 

Stylin' and poetry

So, a while back I mentioned that I wanted to update this blog every week . . . then I changed it to every other week . . . now that I've started PhD school, I think monthly updates are going to be the most do-able. With that, let's get started.

My sister and I recently bought a new car that would be more suitable for life in the city. Something small, safe, reliable, and hopefully not highly ranked on the "cars to steal and/or break into" list. My sister moved in with me from Suburban, MD and her old car was great for the wide open spaces out there, but it really would not have worked for us in the city. I wasn't around when she did the new car shopping, but being just as fabulous as her big sister, she was able to make an awesome choice. We got a modern day version of a classic car in a unique paint color. IT'S THE PERFECT CAR FOR THE BIG CITY!!! Getting around has never been easier. 

A few weeks ago I got a call around midnight from a friend whose car broke down on the highway. I've never considered myself a night person and when she first called me, I actually hung up on her in my groggy state. Then I quickly glanced at the clock and thought, "oh snap, this could be an emergency." I promptly called her back and she explained her situation to me: a flat tire on the way home. I doubted the spare tire I had would fit her car, but I drove out there anyway. I brought snacks along and figured I might be able to somehow help. On my way to my stranded friend, the chauffeur of a very very fancy car began waving at me from his very very fancy car window. We both were stopped at an intersection. I thought maybe something was wrong with my car; in the first few days I was always forgetting to do basic things like turn off the lights, lock the doors, buy gas. It takes some getting used to. Nothing was wrong with my car, this friendly chauffeur just wanted to complement me on my new ride.

"I love your car!! I had it back in the day, you know, one of the original ones. That car didn't owe me nothing. I drove it until it broke down and died. How do you like it?"

"I love it, thanks"

"It's a great car!! It really is"

"Thanks"

"Now you stay stylin' girlfriend."

I hope his boss wasn't in the back of that very very fancy car! That was not chauffeur-speak! How is it that I end up in conversations like that at 1 am!! HOW?!?!?!

Here's a little something to get you thinking:

Missions, cupcakes, and mmmm mmm buenos

A couple weeks ago, I had the most AWKWARD restaurant experience with my cousins. During the last few days of Ramadan (the Muslim month of fasting) it's common to have cravings for all the foods you've missed out on for thirty days. Long days of fasting make you hungry, but you really can't ever eat as much as you want to ;)

So, my cousins and I decided to go on a fried chicken run at a lovely restaurant called Eatonville. The evening started out normal. Our waitress was a little weird, but nothing that really made one uncomfortable.

Waitress: Hello and welcome to Eatonville. Have you dined here before?
My cousins and I: Mixed response, some yeses some nos
W: Welcome. My name is Beatrice (not her real name) and I will be your server for the evening. If you don't mind me asking, where are you guys from?
MCI: Kansas, Pennsylvania, Maryland and West Africa are blurted out in succession and we proceed to order our drinks for the evening.

There was a mix up between a crab and chicken sandwich early in the meal, but other than that things were going smoothly. My posse and I were having a great dinner and charming conversation when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Beatrice the Waitress approaches us with this:

Waitress: I'm sorry to ask you this, but would you mind if I asked a slightly personal question. Are you guys on a mission (mission as in missionaries)?
My posse and I: O_o . . . . . AWKWARD . . . .
W: waiting patiently for our reply
Cousin 1: No. We're just here for dinner.
Cousin 2: puts her head down in shame
Cousin 3: thinks to herself, I just remembered something really important that's happening right now outside the window. Lemme take a look.
Sister: drops her fork
Me: jaw drops on the floor

After she walked away, we all just stared at each other in complete silence. What just happened?!?!? We had not provided her with any information to come to that conclusion. So, what just happened?!?!?! My sister is a hijabi, so maybe she was mistaken for a nun - I don't know. It's times like this when I just wanna slap some sense into people. My alter ego, Miss F (the second cousin twice removed first aunt's neighbor's daughter who lived across the street from the awesome Mr T) would do just that.
"I pity the fool and I'm gonna slap some sense into you." - KASLAP!!!

On a less awkward note, I made cupcakes!! They are a modification of a great recipe from smittenkitchen. I used blueberries, raspberries, and chocolate chips in my cupcakes.

Recipe here


Kinder Buenos are the official chocolate of Senegalia. If you haven't tried one yet, you should! But they are hard to find in the US :(  

Olympics, yogurt making, ice tea fail

My goal for this blog was to have a new post every week. But at the rate I'm at right now, it looks like I may have a post up every other week. Oops.

I've never been a hard core Olympics fan. The only big sporting event I really go for is the World Cup. I do have a great respect for all the athletes and countries that are represented in this tremendous event, Lord knows I could never come close to doing what they do. Apart from catching the latest amazing photos of the Olympic games, I think you really notice the true effect of globalization. One can really respect how much the world has changed when Mohammed Ali represents England and Eun Bi Yang represents America (disclaimer: to my knowledge, these aren't the names of real athletes, just random names). The fluidity of modern day borders allow literally anyone to be a representative of any nation regardless of culture, race, or religion. We've truly become a melting pot in every sense.

But this melting pot still has a way to go before it can become a flavorful stew (food analogies are the bestest!). The hate, intolerance, and ignorance within our societies is absolutely unbearable. Mohammed Ali can be showered with cheers and flowers from his fellow countrymen when he wins a gold metal, but after all the celebrations he goes back to be treated as a second class citizen by those same countrymen. This attitude isn't just seen in the Olympics, it is even more notorious in the soccer world. How is this hypocrisy justified by any means? The world is changing, period. It's time to get past all this.

My new favorite past time has become yogurt making. I made my first successful batch of yogurt about a couple of weeks ago and it was super fab!! I can't wait to start experimenting with different flavor combinations. Yumm

Here's an update on my most recent adventure in ice tea making: Mandarin mint orange pear ice tea is gross with a capital G! The only way I could fix it was to water it down and add tons of sugar. Turning it from an ice tea into modern day fruit juice. ^.^

Purple peppers, pedicures, and pear-lime-ice tea lemonade

This past weekend I took a super super trip to Kansas to visit family. I got my first pedicure!! And I absolutely loved it!!!

The look of shock and horror on my pedicurists face when she saw my Hulk like feet was priceless . . . and embarrassing. I tried to calm her by mentioning, as casually as possible, that my feet needed some work  ^.^' She was a very friendly lady who had relocated to the United States from Turkey. Listening to her gripe about her daughter's career change from dentistry to teaching made me think about the tensions we see between new immigrants and their American-raised children. As a child of immigrant parents myself, I know what this can be like. They have sacrificed everything in coming to the US to build a life; if you don't become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer then what are you doin' ??? Sometimes these tensions are good (they push you to do better and work harder) other times these tensions are bad (families end up having very strained relations). Our parents just want what is best for us and for us to have an easier life than they did. Are they really asking for too much?

Do they believe in us more than we believe in ourselves?


Do we each simply want different things out of our lives?


Are there careers other than medicine, law, and engineering that can buy you a Benz, summer home, and still make you a respectable member of your community? 


I don't know, maybe.


In the case of my pedicurist, I think our discussion helped her to better understand what the possible options were for her daughter. She thanked me for explaining things to her and I hope that she and her daughter will be able to reach a peaceful middle ground. Things tend to get lost in trans-generational, cross-cultural exchanges, but I think a lot of times these can be resolved with a patient, informative, conversation (I know what you're thinking, when was the last time I had one of those?!).


On another note, I love making my own blend of ice teas and this weeks flavor is pear-lime iced black tea lemonade. Verdict: I've made better blends, but if you prefer your ice teas on the sightly less sweet side this blend is good. 


And as promised - PURPLE PEPPERS!! Aren't they just the cutest???? 

  

Welcome to Senegalia: My life with a little bit of crazy. I wish I could take credit for the naming of this blog - it's the perfect combination of the name of my home country and the city I reside in. But sadly, the name of this blog was stolen from this very awkward conversation I had a few years ago.

Setting: cool summer day in the city, I'm stepping into the elevator of my friend's apartment building. 
Me: *slightly shivering* Ugh I hate the cold
Random young man in elevatory (RYM): You're cold? It's so nice out.
Me: Yeah. My family's from a country in West Africa. The climates a bit more tropical than here.
RYM: Oh! Where are you from.
Me: Senegal
RYM: SENEGAL!! Like Youssou N'dour?? I love Senegalian music!!!
Me: *friendly smile* Yeah like Youssou N'dour. Bye.
I step off the elevator and think to myself: Really is it that hard?? If I was from Senegalia that would have been appropriate. But I'm not. The correct term is Senegalese! UGH!!!


This is just the first of the many, many, many, crazy, silly, funny, weird, though-provoking stories I hope to document in this blog. Enjoy!