I am here! I am in the computer room of Happy Camp, the college's estate in The Gambia. I am covered in old sweat and bug repellant, haven't slept well for the past two nights, and I couldn't be happier.

Our plane in Dakar was delayed, but evidently not as much as it could have been. Lunch was not provided for us, as they expected our plane to be later. Hungry, we took a walk to find something to eat. We were quite a spectacle, half a dozen of us wandering down the street: fresh off the plane, obviously new to the place, and white.

One little girl, walking toward us with another child, murmured "tubab" and touched me. I feel like I am a mythical creature to her. Something strange and almost unreal. I wonder what I felt like.

I have never belonged to a minority before, at least not visually. I feel myself wishing that I could simply blend in, fade into the woodwork. Their legs, arms, and faces are so black, shining sleekly with sweat, and I simply look pasty and uncomfortable. My thin, light hair mats with my perspiration and sticks to my white forehead. I look out of place. I look like I don't belong.

Really, I don't belong. But I would like to.

But enough of that! Although we had to find our own lunch, we were provided with dinner and a show. Even better, we were encouraged (coerced?) into participating in the show. Drumming and dancing. What better way to introduce a bunch of tubabs to The Gambia? I felt a bit touristy and lame, but it was still a great show and lots of fun. I felt like a cultural leech, watching their traditions and snapping pictures, but they were going to dance for us regardless of how I felt about it. So I figured I might as well appreciate it and have fun. With a fair bit of encouragement from the dancers, all of us eventually got up and danced with them. Some of us were better than others, but that's always the way of it. (They left us a DVD! We are half-jokingly considering watching it and practicing our moves.)