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Okay, I found a few minutes and needed a break from being part of le collective, so Ill write *another* final blog. A final, final blog (before the reunion tour when I get to New York and need to post photos and decompress).

And I think, in this final episode, I want to talk about my butt. So lets be frank: I have an ass. For a white girl, anyway, I have some junk in the trunk. I cannot be accused of having a back with a crack, or be teased and offered a quarter to go to the corner store and buy myself a booty. I am peasant stock, and my ass reflects that. I will never be Kate Moss and though I do not consider myself fat, I have some meat on my bones. I read an article last year that said researchers have determined that men are especially drawn to the triangle created in the ratio of the waist to the hips on a woman --the wider the hips and the thinner the waist the better. Specifically, researchers said, this is ratio is an accurate determination of fertility. So something in men is hardwired to know that the bigger the booty and the smaller the waist, the better the chances of procreation.

It has been my experience that many American men do appreciate those of us from peasant stock, but it has equally been my experience that lots of American men prefer the waifs, and I chafe against that sometimes. Here in Senegal, the women are thin for sure, but lots of them --dare I say, most-- have healthy booties, and I LOVE it. Discussion of body size here is not taboo like it is at home and several times Senegalese men or women have commented on our bodies in frank terms that would normally make me feel uncomfortable. Madeline, one of the people we are staying with, has slapped my ass several times to proclaim it is "good". The other night, she introduced me to one of her friends on the street and then speaking loudly in Wolof, unwrapped me from my shawl and turned me around to show her friend my "good" butt. I struggle with body image as much as any other American woman I know. Its has been nice spending the last month without access to a mirror (seriously, I havent seen my reflection more than twice since being here) and thereby getting a break from the stream of habitual (dare I say, ritual) commentary and criticism I give myself in front of mirrors at home, and it has been equally nice to discover that my figure is appreciated by the majority in at least this part of the world. I have, at least to Senegalese standards, a good butt.

We are geared up for our last day. Yesterday, we finally got to go to all the clinics and distribute the truly mind boggling amount of supplies we brought for them. I didnt understand, when we first got here, why we didnt distribute them right away, until I started attending births and saw how much we use at every birth. I dont know how we could make birth a less wasteful event and still keep it safe and sterile for the women we serve and for ourselves, but goddamn, I never confronted how much plastic goes into it. Anyway, we decided to use what we needed for our stay and then divided everything remaining betweent he clinics. It was incredibly rewarding to see the amount of donations we left at each one andI was very proud and grateful for all those who gave me things to bring here. Now, devested of our donations and our gifts, we are going to the beach to sunbathe, collect shells, swim, and play drums with our Senegalese friends. Well return for dinner tonight, and then pack... and then... we go.

I was driving in the ambulance today and I realized I can honestly say I love it here. Im so glad I came and I hope this feeling lasts, and continues to inspire me to travel and to help people who need it, like they do here. It fills me in a way and satisfies me in a way that no other pleasure in my life has to date.

Okay. Off to lunch and the beach!
xoxo L