Just to be clear I am perfectly healthy

I have been thinking a lot the past two weeks (two weeks in village can do that to a person) and I realized I should explain some stuff.
Like for instance, some times life really sucks here like a shot of hundred proof lemon vodka. And when it does it is multiplied by the fact that you don't speak the lanaguage fluently (or at least not yet for me) and you nearest neighbor maybe an hour bike ride away in the hot, tire melting sun.
I have had a few of these moments (4 to be exact) where I have been what the heck am I doing here I should go back to Ameria and worry about the laterst Lindsey Lohan crisis . Of course even I know I would be miserable by that which leads to the thinking of that I may not be happy anywhere on this planet. It's a downward spiral, like a vortex, i think that is what it is called.
But what really is driving this is that no matter at the end of the day I am in Africa and not in America and I had an experience recently where it this fact became more pronounced.
It involved me on my bike going to get bread because my wonderful host mom had made beans for breakfast and an Alhum ( i.e. big uhaul with people in it). Thought I was far enough over on the side of the road and it turned out I wasn't when the side mirror slammed into my shoulder.
I cannot even begin to describe the blur of emotion that went through my mind. I stayed on my bike (how I don't know) and came to a shaking stop. My shoulder hurt but I believe I have suffered worst pains, but mostly this sense of bewildering powerlessness came over me as I watched the Alhum continue to barrel down the road.
I turned into a hysterical wreck. A young teenage boy in front of me heard me shout when the car clipped me and turned and came back. Crying is something of taboo here and a foreign white chick weeping uncontrollable was very distressing. He kept asking asking "are you hurt, do you have a phone?' He felt my shoulder, trying to see if it was dislocated and between hyperventilating breaths I said in pulaar I was not hurt and that I was just scared. Then proceeded to weep more.
Finally got myself under control and continued on my way. I needed breads for beans and how was I going to explain that to my family if I came back without bread. Now I can see that I could have easily explained it but I just couldn't comprehend it then.
Made it to the lumop and saw the Alhum that hit me. And proceeded to begin to lose it again.
I was like oh no I cannot cry again at the lumo (first time was after install and I was stressed about all in life) and so I headed to where I thought there was bread, my bean lady. Then heard my name. My american name.
Turns out my site mate had been on the Alhum. What are the chances of that. It must have been the idea that "thank god some one else who I know and trust and can speak english is here) because I just motioned for her to come over and then was wreck again this time in english.
She didn't see me get hit but she heard it. We talked and I calmed down enough to to go over to the bean lady's daughter who thought I was hysterical because the beans hadn't arrived yet.
She saw her brother and I kid you not, shouted at him "Where is mother, this toubaub needs beans now!" I love kids.
I told her I just needed bread and went back without seeing everyone like I normally so because also this day I had guests in the form of Peace Corps arriving soon and I needed to reset my mental balance or call and say Don't Come, I have the plague.
I am ok I was just scared and hit with the reality that the whole truck could have hit me (I wasn't in the middle of the road I was as far off the road as I could get, but drivers and vehicles are truly the biggest threat to volunteer safety through incompetance, broken machinery, or malicious intent) and I could have died. The ambulence doesn't show up in 5 minutes here, it could take an hour. The best hospital in the region is 40K away. The best thing to do, which is exhausting sometimes, is to have constant vigilence.
And eventually I told my family after I nearly broke down at the well later that night (someone asked me if I was goin to the farrow and when I said no, told me I was stupid). My mother was furious and she cried too. My father was furious too. He said all drivers in Senegal have no head, they drink beer and smoke. They are bad people who don't even care about kids on the road, which was another horrifying reality that I could have easily been a child hit by an car, and that I was going to avoid the road whenever possible and that I wasn't going to bike into Kolda anytime soon. Fine with me.
For the record I did bike into Kolda, about two weeks ago. Took me two and half hours to go 40K and only one Alhum passed me the entire time. Infact it was the only car to pass me.
I am glad to say the 75% of the time is great. I love it here, the kids are my best friends, I went and visited 14 villages (2 of which are ten miles into the bush from mine) and asked about problems, previous volunteer work and what I could do to help one I return from IST. I went to school and I have some ideas for possible projects to do there and I talked with my brother about the potential for running a soccer tournment for education. He was like "Adama if you do that I will get every village out here and I will give you my jersey to play." They really love soccer here.
So if yu have soccer ball and pump in America lying around, feel free to send it here. SOccer balls are destroyed in hours if not minutes here.
I also had two french teachers lined up to help me learn french better and my pulaar is consistently expanding (though grammar does not improve.)
Case in point. Came in yesterday and got an Alhum as soon as I got to the road. I was overcharged by 100 CFA for me and my bag but I didn't care. Met up with some great ladies who were all Baldes (my family name) and if I wasn't in Africa it would have been like a a girls night out. I think they were all heading to a party in Kolda. We talked and I told them about me and we joked and said we were all family (some of them actually were related to me and some to my site mate). They said You can speak alot of pulaar!!
Then the apprentice showed up and said he wanted a mille 300 (the agreed amount was a mille, and it should have been 900). I gave him my best stink eye and said no, I want a mille in change back. Handed him the money and fekt the stare of every woman behind me looking at him to say "mess with her, we dare you junior."
I got my mille back. Life rocks like that.
Also I heard Jonas Brothers on the internet and got kind of weepy. Ridiculous yes.
I am heading up to Dakar in the next two days and so I should have rocking internet and reception for three weeks. I come back to Kolda after WAIST (softball...haha.)
Love to all!