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By Yanli M., YES Abroad Senegal 2022-2023

Nio Farr

This was one of the first phrases I learned in Wolof. Roughly translated, it means, "We are in it together," or "We share it."

My first experience of nio farr was during my second month in Dakar on my way to a wedding. I was dressed to the 9s in my traditional Senegalese dress, favorite pair of stiletto heels, and obviously gorgeous hair and makeup. I sashayed toward my awaiting taxi and was on my way, like Cinderella to her ball.

Unfortunately, my driver ended up dropping me off on the other side of a busy market from where the church was located, about a 30 min walk away. Undeterred, I sashayed as best as I could through the vegetables, stands of goat, and heaps of fish until I stumbled in a pothole. I “gracefully” grabbed onto the nearest thing to brace my fall, which, lucky for me, happened to be a vegetable stand, rather than a heap of fish, and proceeded to not so gently and not so elegantly fall to the ground. With the heads of lettuce and cucumbers scattered around me. A crowd had gathered to witness my humiliating fall, but helping immediately hands aided me back on my feet. Yet, I couldn't walk. My stiletto heel had broken. I was on the brink of tears. I was stranded in the middle of a market and going to miss the wedding. But then my fairy godmother appeared.

Her name was Fatou - a 60-year-old Senegalese woman selling vegetables in the market.

She sat me at her stand of vegetables. While I could not be certain as to what she was telling me, as my Wolof was limited at that time, she took my shoe, told me the prices of her vegetables, and left me alone selling her goods in my Senegalese gown and fully done hair and makeup.

For the next hour, I attempted to sell her vegetables. Meanwhile, the other vendor ladies around me waved any men deemed handsome enough over to my stand in an attempt to find me my prince. "We find you a handsome Senegalese man, and then you bring us young rich American husbands!" they joked. We chatted, I learned new Wolof phrases, and even sold a single tomato to one of my prospective princes!

Finally, Fatou arrived with my shoe - all fixed thanks to some trusty shoe glue. She then called her daughter over to accompany me to church. She smiled and said, "Make sure you don't stay out too late,” continuing to watch out for me as she bid goodbye. As I thanked her repeatedly, she replied "Nio farr."

Nio farr was shown to me by Fatou who took an hour out of her day to help me fix my shoe.

Nio farr was also demonstrated to me by the other vegetable ladies who welcomed me into their market chatter.

Nio farr was demonstrated by countless people I encountered every single day in Dakar. Whether it was my local fruit man who gave me an extra orange on Thanksgiving, my friends at school who would go out of their way to make sure I understood the schoolwork, my host family who probably had to deal with my cultural missteps the most, and countless interactions with strangers and friends alike, each and every day.

Senegal showed me that nio farr is far more than a catch phrase. Rather, it’s a mentality. A way of life. It is, in essence, an acknowledgement that there is a universality to the human experience - we all feel sadness, happiness, love, loss, and embarrassment. We are all trying our best to navigate the confusing reality we live in. And in the end, the best way to navigate it is to help each other in every way we can, because even if we don't share the same language, religion, or culture, we are all human and we are all in this experience of life together.

Nio farr is something we can all learn from. In our increasingly individualistic and divided world, we must recognize that we all have a shared responsibility to contribute to creating a more equitable and sustainable society. As we continue on our journeys, I hope we can all embrace the mentality of nio farr and work together to create a world where everyone has the chance to thrive.