Jolikaay (pronounced jolly-kay)

His height towered over me as we walked side by side down a long straight dirt road. At the horizon, the illusion of water danced and flickered. Nature’s mirage. To our right, mounds of garbage were piled high and stretched in front creating a wall along the dirt road. There are no landfills outside of Dakar, Senegal in Africa. This is a very rural area and the locals consolidate their trash in the ditches along the roadside. Jolikaay dressed well and carried himself with pride. His colored African garb perfectly draped his very dark, very black, very tall body. He was assigned to look after me after an unsettling incident on the ocean’s beach the day prior. He was a friend of a friend with the kindest and most humble eyes I have ever looked into. He told me the locals dig through the walls of garbage for things to reuse, recycle, and sell.

I felt safe with Jolikaay as we walked about the back streets. His presence was enormous. We had a connection, and I was grateful for his daily guardianship. Through our broken conversations in English we were consistently able to join in camaraderie and understanding. He showed me places and things most tourists do not see in Africa. We turned right at the end of a massive and long stretch of garbage and walked another long dirt road. Along the way women were selling fresh mangoes picked in the morning from the trees. I ate fresh mango almost daily during my month-long trip to Africa. I will never forget the taste of fresh mango and the pride in Jolikaay’s eyes when he invited me to see his home and where he lived. I remember how excited and prideful he was. This was one of the last days I would spend with him and I was very sad. His presence was comforting and brought a sense of ease to my day.

We walked up to an area and stopped. I looked around for his home and did not see any recognizable structure. As we walked on, I saw an open fire pit and some small box-like containers made of a material I did not recognize that surrounded the fire pit. Perhaps stucco or some sort of earth wall. We walked closer to the center of these shapes, and I realized many of them were rectangles. Jolikaay pointed to one off to the right. As we approached his rectangle, the pride in his eyes was tangible as he knelt down and pointed for me to enter his rectangular-shaped home. There was barely enough room for us to enter on our knees and the doorway seemed very short for such a tall man with a notable presence. He carried himself as if he lived in a multi-million dollar mansion. Most of the floor space in his home contained his bed which was perfectly made up on the floor. Not a corner of the blanket was out of place! His home was equally simple and profound. His heart exploded as he pointed to the pictures mysteriously attached to these walls made of unknown material. I did not see a tack or a nail. The pictures felt like additional rooms filled with stories of his family and memories of his life. I felt like I fully walked into all of the rooms of his life that day. With detail, he explained every photograph and I recall my own heart lifting with his excitement and pride.

Jolikaay gave me a gift that day. His gift was perspective and presence. He was rich. His heart was full and he radiated that love outward. His abundance came from deep within and his impact remains.

…

It’s that time again when I feel challenged living in our RV. The feeling comes in waves as we reconstruct our lives following the devastation of toxic mold. I feel claustrophobic, like a caged animal that desperately needs space and a “real kitchen”. My only saving grace is being outside on the land where space does not end. The pastures are long, and the mountains guard the edges of our ranch.

Moons ago, Florian was a volunteer with Engineers Without Borders and travelled to Equador where he and many others put in waterlines and helped locals build concrete water tanks in remote villages. As I stood in the mini RV kitchen ready to pull my hair out, Florian said in Equador an entire family of 4 would live in a building the size of our RV’s living room. He reminded me that even though we are struggling, we still have it really good. “Before our group arrived in Ecuador, a different group of Americans came in and dropped off a bunch of toilets. When we arrived, they were used as planters. It’s all perspective, Steph. We still have our family and we will get through this.” Like a lightening bolt, the memory came in fast and my mind poignantly snapped back to a fractured memory of Jolikaay showing me his home with his heart and eyes bursting with pride.

Perspective and presence.

This one is for you, Jolikaay, wherever you are.

Navigating difficult situations in life can sometimes feel endless. Challenging situations can drive you to exhaustion, test your coping skills, and push you to the edge of comfort and sometimes sanity. Learning how to navigate perspective and presence truly impacts the quality of your life and influences your overall health and well-being. There is a saying, "the hands of many make light work". Well, in my line of work, I like to say, "the shoulders of many lighten the load". The people that provide a healthy perspective and brighten the light along your path are timeless and invaluable. We are not meant to go alone in life.

Hats off to you because I know you have endured. (most humans have endured something) And as buddha once said, all of life is suffering, and as Jolikaay once showed me; suffering is subjective and is based on perspective and presence.