Just when I thought I had a grasp on what it feels like to live day to day in Senegal, my village has jolted me back to reality through the voices of curious children, anxious chickens, dying goats, and my new host family the Diops. Mouit is quiet in the way of cars and telephones, but is busy with conversations from runny-nosed kids that like to rub the hair on my arms and follow me wherever I go. I woke up this morning to the seemingly continuous call of the rooster right outside my door and decided to walk to the Balanterre—a ruin of some old building behind my house that sits on top of a high spot among the dunes. It offers a great view of the surrounding area and is the only place where my cell phone gets a signal. The stars in the last grasps of night were bright, clear, and everywhere. In my village I am away from the city, away from electricity, and that much closer to the real world.

The sun came up slowly at first with a pale light that finally gave way to the glowing orange ball I’ve seen in idyllic pictures of Africa. It rushed into the sky illuminating the dunes, the cacti, the scrub brush, and palms. As I shot a few pictures of this unfolding scene, two camels approached from the bush, greeting me with sniffs in my direction. While only a few miles from Mauritania, I had no idea there were camels in Senegal.

Later in the day as I rode in a bush taxi from Mouit to Saint Louis, a troupe of monkeys ran across the road in front of the car.

Beyond its natural beauty, Mouit is making realize that this country does live in poverty and that the relatively humble conditions of my host family in Thies are quite luxurious in comparison to the village. Mouit is off the paved road with no electricy. At night, it is dark except for candles, gas lamps, and the coals of the small charcoal stoves used to for cooking and for making attaya.

I sat with my host family the Diops and tried to memorize everyone’s name in the compound, not an easy task with my dad, two wives, and what I think are about 10 kids. My new name is Manssour Diop, which will take a bit of getting used to after being Matar Thiam for the last two months. They are sweet, soft spoken, and sit with each other throughout the day making fun of each other. Within an hour of my arrival, my sister asked me for medicine for her tooth ache, and for an awful looking open sore on one of my little brother’s legs. I knew I would see things I was not expecting, but to see a two year old with a giant wound, just playing in the sand peacefully I felt off balance. I gave Marietou ibuprofen and antibiotic cream, and I know it won’t be long before she asks me again.

Per the Peace Corp’s recommendation, I drew up a contract and receipt for rent, laundry, and water at my new house and went over it with Adama, my father. I asked him to sign next to his name, and he made a scribble. Most of the kids cannot read or write either. I am waking up to the new standard to what I take for granted, basic education, power and clean water, medicine, and ease all included.