That’s the phrase that keeps going through my head- it feels like a dream. When I actually say it out loud, I am referencing how surreal it is to be leaving my host family and Senegal- a fact that I have known, but something that was never quite manifest throughout this journey. When I think about my time here, it is just as much of a dream- weaved of those sublime tales that only comes from the caverns and crevices of one’s imagination, not the actualities of reality.
Where I am now- leaving my host family tomorrow, then all of Senegal, to reuniting with the other fellows and then my friends and family- is a whirlpool. There is quite a concoction of emotion in that one run-onish sentence. Sometimes I almost feel nothing- a void of waiting, leaving, and the unknown there as a blank gray slate for the colors of moments un-had to be painted on. Then there are those small blips when really nothing has happened. Perhaps a small phone call about dinner- nothing really, save a voice. In that instant, my mind is lost in my heart with my throat caught in between. It is a grace of gratitude for all of the moments that have fallen onto my path, full of the happy heartache that accompanies the past tense of each and every one.
Pardon me if you catch me in either state- I know it’s not exactly the description of a stable person. Dreams aren’t stabilizing things though. They throw you up into the clouds, roll you through the flowers, and let you fly. Many thanks. Many hopes. More dreams.
Monday, April 26, 2010
In dedication to the past seven months, the new people filling my life, and reunion with my ipod.
It was all a dream, pages full of words, running through my head.
I’ve seen fire, and I’ve seen rain
I’ve been hanging around this town corner, out to find the better part of me
I’ve got friends somewhere over the rainbow, a broken voice, and a twisted smile
When the sun goes down, we go dancing in the moonlight
Our dreams are the dreams of real things- that moment in life when you actually feel alive, walking on a dream, beauty in the breakdown.
If you could only see- metal heart- its gone, gone going,
Oh Africa
I’ve seen fire, and I’ve seen rain
I’ve been hanging around this town corner, out to find the better part of me
I’ve got friends somewhere over the rainbow, a broken voice, and a twisted smile
When the sun goes down, we go dancing in the moonlight
Our dreams are the dreams of real things- that moment in life when you actually feel alive, walking on a dream, beauty in the breakdown.
If you could only see- metal heart- its gone, gone going,
Oh Africa
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Fun Update, yayyy
So the last monthly meeting in the Saloum was amazing. Day one was basically all travel and eating. Hilary thought that the power rangers weren’t people underneath the outfits. Power rangers are people too my dear Hilary. We all laughed a lot a this, slightly epic. Day two we were at Rachels hotel and talking about all the readings we had done, and then got to meet two local peace corps workers. One was from Bozeman, Montana- you know, about an hour and half from where I was born. Small world no? Day three we went into the mangroves- grilling fresh fish and oysters on shell island, harvested oysters off the roots of mangroves and ate them a minute later, saw a small island of birds, and we even got to climb some of the mangrove trees! Day four was just going back home, though we did have a good laugh in the taxi when Modu the driver jacked up Barbie Girl and started dancing to it.
Rachel gave us the beginning packet for our capstone project, which is due the 12th. It is going to take forrrrevvverrrr.
Less than a month left!!!!!!!!!!ahhhhhhhhhh
I got way to many clothes made at the tailor, but hey, its okay right?
Last week I got to go around with a doctor in my village for the last round of oral polio vaccinations. We visited one Quranic school that was even more isolated than Noflaye itself, and the Marabout denied us- and the vaccine to about twenty kids. No reason given whatsoever, just a shake of the head. A bit sad, especially because the talibes get zeroish healthcare and live a steady life of mal and under nutrition. The heads of the post de sante went to visit them the next day though to try and convince them. Ill get back to you on the results. I get to go to the final vaccinations as well, which happen around the 24th. After that in the afternoon I sat in on a meeting between the Case de Sante of Noflaye and USAID where Mansour (basically the only doctor in Noflaye) is trying to convince them to fund at least a maternity, if not a poste de sante. By the way, Sangalkam is actually one kilometer away, with their post de sante. Alec and I think it would be much smarter to just increase the size of the already existing poste, which means that a lot less is wasted on creating new management and infrastructure.
I met this brasilian ex-babptist missionary here, who currently works for a baptist NGO along with another NGO. Alec and I then visited the town she works with, called Mbissaou, where she does medical visits each Friday with a Brasilian baptist missionary med student. First we visited this school that was founded by Madame Wade’s NGO (presidents wife, shes French) in conjunction with funding from a Moroccan doner. It was ridiculous (an official blog is coming on it)- it was actually a beautiful school, they had an arboretum, a whole working and powered computer lab. There was even playsets and a mango tree!
From the school we went to the womens farming co-op (also started by the NGO above) which uses compost (that they make at a building on the school grounds )-so it’s a completely organic process. There are 125 plots of land, with one women residing over each plot, onions, potatoes, and peanuts are grown, and they use a drip watering system that is the best way to water in a dry climate. Pretty dang amazing I have to say.
Then went to the cas de sante and helped Salete (brasilian woman) and her friend out by prepping patients by doing things like blood pressure and weight. Salete also bring in medical supplies from the Baptist NGO. For a visit its 500 cfa, roughly a $1.10, and if you need medicine that they have, you get that too. Granted, there is only medicine there for a very limited amount of things, but still, kind of amazing right?
The last visit of the day was a lady who had leg surgery two years ago and Salete thinks that they did the stitches wrong- because there is still this awkward gap in the womans leg- almost like a mouth. With muscle and fat just sitting out there in the open with a little glaze like skin imposter over them. She got the surgery to help her walk, and obviously, shes still having to use crutches at the moment.
Salete gave Alec and I Wolof New Testaments- how freaking cool is that? I mean just the fact that it is the new testment, I don’t know, I think its amazing. Yeah, I can only read about one word per sentence though, no matter.
MANGO SEASON HAS BEGUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really cannot quite explain how absolutely amazing the mangos are here. Sweet and sour and delicious and like butter (in fruit form) and I just love them. And they are litterally everywhere. Even in Dakar where fruits are more expensive, I bought a whole mango for 150cfa, aka $0.31. And it was amazing. Just take a moment to appreciate a 31 cent mango. So my new resolution is to eat a least one mango a day until I leave. Im not even a mango person and Im obsessed with them. Do they have any bad health effects? Hope not, for I will be eating massive amounts of them in the coming days.
Yesterday I met with the representative from oceanium finally. Last week we had a meeting scheduled, but my not knowing that there is in fact, not an oceanium building in rufisque (only the one in Dakar I already knew about), hampered that effort. “Hi, wheres the oceanium building?” “ Its behind the presidents house by the ocean”, “ Oh, we have a problem, Im in Ruifisque”. I know, Im smooth like mango. (Is there such thing as mango butter? I St. Helens makes mango coco butter and its awesome lotion. For the record.) Well yesterday I got a good amount of speechness and dissilusionment with the whole development effort- he works with Oceanium and even he thinks that they talk to much and are corrupted (though not in comparison with the government of course).Great meeting though.
Hilary and Alec are coming to the VOT today, and Hilary is staying the night. Off to visit Matt and his Cow farm Friday.. Victoria comes Friday night, then Going to Thies (chess) this Saturday, which I think will be super. Then on Sunday Im going with Abdou, Awa, and our whole friend group to Abdous’s mother’s house which is on the beach.
Nicole, the new program director, is coming on the 15th. On the 13th we will all be in Dakar, looking at the museum and the archives, and then hopefully having dinner at Mousa’s house (director of Suffolk university’s Dakar program, bff of Rachel). If we do have dinner, everyone will stay the night in Dakar, if not, some will stay. Im already up for staying, so those of us that do will meet Nicole in the Thursday the 16th.. Throughout her stay then, different people will be going with her in public transport to meet Tons and Rachel at program sites (GCY needs to know the tranport budgets and timing for next year). I get to go up to Saint Louis again!!!(on Friday and Saturday) Woohooooo! Busy week right?
I introduced my family to american peanut butter today (tip of the hat to Kailee). My host father says he wants to make peanut butter like that here and sell it. (I guess he only needs a little bit of sugar and salt right?)
Even the power company laughs at Noflaye. Exhibit A: We had a power outage for almost the whole day and night last week. We called people in the surrounding villages of Sangalkam and Bambilor- they both had power. I guess they think that Noflaye is so tranquil that they really don’t need power that much. (Noflaye actually means tranquility or calmness.)
Mandarin peels kill cockroaches. Learnt that one there from Malang Gomis, director of La Sagesse.
There are a lot of gay penguins. They happen to raise orphan eggs whose parents have died.
The movie You Got Served was on TV last week
Be back later………………..
Swell, was just at a meeting representatives of Rufisque’s culture, fishing and agricultural industries, environmental groups, and womens groups. It was interesting, I just only got the gist of it all because of language stuff. I was there with Thioune (Chone) of Oceanium, and he introduced me to the leader of the Woman’s Organisation of Rufisque as an American representative who is interesting in having our two countries work together, and find out ways that we can help the women here. I laughed a bit, for it made me realize that I could basically make up a title for myself here, and if Im dressed nicely enough, I could totally pull it off. Heck, I’m already a representative for the US government for the development of women here, an English teacher, an expert on turtles, a representative of US funders, a rich spender, a marriage ticket to the new world, a doctor, and so on. Or at least that’s what I’ve been perceived as, arnt the possibilities just endless? Anywho, I just ended up writing the blog Mbissou for GCY.
My family and I had a moment of realisation yesterday that I only have 20 days left with them (including today). It was a bit shocking to say the least. They Aida started asking me if I like the drawstring pants they have here and the candy peanuts and so on… I tried to make it so that they don’t get me anything, but I don’t know how well I succeeded. A bit ridiculous though.
Looking forward to seeing everyone, but at the same time im almost scared of leaving. On one had I will miss more than a few things about being here, and on the other I just don’t really know what to expect when I come back. I know it will be the same and different, but that’s a bit vague now right? Oh well. Reverse culture shock will be interesting though. I many ways I expect it to be more of a shock than when I came here. For I had not real expectations upon my arrival other than what Rachel had told us. But I think I know my home country, so that’s a whole lifes worth of expectations and norms, that I just might not think are normal. But it’s a day by day thing.
I have to write a summary about myself in order to find a roommate. I’ve never really like the ‘tell me about yourself’ question, and this is basically that. I guess Ill start with my love of detergent and fresh green grass as always.
Speaking of which, that means detergent in less than a month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, don’t get to overly excited over there, that would just be to much excitement for the world to handle.
My butt is 3cm small than the first month I was here, or so Fatim the tailor told me. I said I already miss Senegal, she followed up by saying she already misses all of us and our money. You know, political correctness just doesn’t exist here.
For example, Abdoulaye Wade made a statue for the African Renaissance that was a massive waste of money and a disgrace for so many reasons. He flew in Jesse Jackson for the inaugration ceremony, you know, a couple hundred thousand or million dollars here and there while kids don’t have schools and people don’t have water. He then said that he thinks he should get a third of the profits from people visiting the statue because it was his idea. Pardon me, but isn’t it kind of his job as President to do things for his country? But yes, you know theres no political correcteness when corruption isn’t even a hidden thing, it’s a public proposition.
Okay ranting over. April 4th was the 50th anniversary of Senegal, Easter, and the day of this masssssssssive wrestling match. For the 2nd,3rd, and 4th we ate Ngallah- which is peanut butter, chocolate, juice from the baobob tree, raisins, and millet couscous. Overall, on the tasiter side of things, and no oil, so I was a very happy camper for those three days. Everyone went crazy as usual for the wrestling match, I even got my families reaction on video (I promise, at least when I get home that the videos will eventually get put up). As usual, the schools have taken another break for another holiday, this time for two weeks. Its always a holiday in Senegal.
Got to get back to work now, with much love, and very little time until I get to see you all, Ananda
P.S. Kylie is going to UNC!!!!yesssss
Rachel gave us the beginning packet for our capstone project, which is due the 12th. It is going to take forrrrevvverrrr.
Less than a month left!!!!!!!!!!ahhhhhhhhhh
I got way to many clothes made at the tailor, but hey, its okay right?
Last week I got to go around with a doctor in my village for the last round of oral polio vaccinations. We visited one Quranic school that was even more isolated than Noflaye itself, and the Marabout denied us- and the vaccine to about twenty kids. No reason given whatsoever, just a shake of the head. A bit sad, especially because the talibes get zeroish healthcare and live a steady life of mal and under nutrition. The heads of the post de sante went to visit them the next day though to try and convince them. Ill get back to you on the results. I get to go to the final vaccinations as well, which happen around the 24th. After that in the afternoon I sat in on a meeting between the Case de Sante of Noflaye and USAID where Mansour (basically the only doctor in Noflaye) is trying to convince them to fund at least a maternity, if not a poste de sante. By the way, Sangalkam is actually one kilometer away, with their post de sante. Alec and I think it would be much smarter to just increase the size of the already existing poste, which means that a lot less is wasted on creating new management and infrastructure.
I met this brasilian ex-babptist missionary here, who currently works for a baptist NGO along with another NGO. Alec and I then visited the town she works with, called Mbissaou, where she does medical visits each Friday with a Brasilian baptist missionary med student. First we visited this school that was founded by Madame Wade’s NGO (presidents wife, shes French) in conjunction with funding from a Moroccan doner. It was ridiculous (an official blog is coming on it)- it was actually a beautiful school, they had an arboretum, a whole working and powered computer lab. There was even playsets and a mango tree!
From the school we went to the womens farming co-op (also started by the NGO above) which uses compost (that they make at a building on the school grounds )-so it’s a completely organic process. There are 125 plots of land, with one women residing over each plot, onions, potatoes, and peanuts are grown, and they use a drip watering system that is the best way to water in a dry climate. Pretty dang amazing I have to say.
Then went to the cas de sante and helped Salete (brasilian woman) and her friend out by prepping patients by doing things like blood pressure and weight. Salete also bring in medical supplies from the Baptist NGO. For a visit its 500 cfa, roughly a $1.10, and if you need medicine that they have, you get that too. Granted, there is only medicine there for a very limited amount of things, but still, kind of amazing right?
The last visit of the day was a lady who had leg surgery two years ago and Salete thinks that they did the stitches wrong- because there is still this awkward gap in the womans leg- almost like a mouth. With muscle and fat just sitting out there in the open with a little glaze like skin imposter over them. She got the surgery to help her walk, and obviously, shes still having to use crutches at the moment.
Salete gave Alec and I Wolof New Testaments- how freaking cool is that? I mean just the fact that it is the new testment, I don’t know, I think its amazing. Yeah, I can only read about one word per sentence though, no matter.
MANGO SEASON HAS BEGUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really cannot quite explain how absolutely amazing the mangos are here. Sweet and sour and delicious and like butter (in fruit form) and I just love them. And they are litterally everywhere. Even in Dakar where fruits are more expensive, I bought a whole mango for 150cfa, aka $0.31. And it was amazing. Just take a moment to appreciate a 31 cent mango. So my new resolution is to eat a least one mango a day until I leave. Im not even a mango person and Im obsessed with them. Do they have any bad health effects? Hope not, for I will be eating massive amounts of them in the coming days.
Yesterday I met with the representative from oceanium finally. Last week we had a meeting scheduled, but my not knowing that there is in fact, not an oceanium building in rufisque (only the one in Dakar I already knew about), hampered that effort. “Hi, wheres the oceanium building?” “ Its behind the presidents house by the ocean”, “ Oh, we have a problem, Im in Ruifisque”. I know, Im smooth like mango. (Is there such thing as mango butter? I St. Helens makes mango coco butter and its awesome lotion. For the record.) Well yesterday I got a good amount of speechness and dissilusionment with the whole development effort- he works with Oceanium and even he thinks that they talk to much and are corrupted (though not in comparison with the government of course).Great meeting though.
Hilary and Alec are coming to the VOT today, and Hilary is staying the night. Off to visit Matt and his Cow farm Friday.. Victoria comes Friday night, then Going to Thies (chess) this Saturday, which I think will be super. Then on Sunday Im going with Abdou, Awa, and our whole friend group to Abdous’s mother’s house which is on the beach.
Nicole, the new program director, is coming on the 15th. On the 13th we will all be in Dakar, looking at the museum and the archives, and then hopefully having dinner at Mousa’s house (director of Suffolk university’s Dakar program, bff of Rachel). If we do have dinner, everyone will stay the night in Dakar, if not, some will stay. Im already up for staying, so those of us that do will meet Nicole in the Thursday the 16th.. Throughout her stay then, different people will be going with her in public transport to meet Tons and Rachel at program sites (GCY needs to know the tranport budgets and timing for next year). I get to go up to Saint Louis again!!!(on Friday and Saturday) Woohooooo! Busy week right?
I introduced my family to american peanut butter today (tip of the hat to Kailee). My host father says he wants to make peanut butter like that here and sell it. (I guess he only needs a little bit of sugar and salt right?)
Even the power company laughs at Noflaye. Exhibit A: We had a power outage for almost the whole day and night last week. We called people in the surrounding villages of Sangalkam and Bambilor- they both had power. I guess they think that Noflaye is so tranquil that they really don’t need power that much. (Noflaye actually means tranquility or calmness.)
Mandarin peels kill cockroaches. Learnt that one there from Malang Gomis, director of La Sagesse.
There are a lot of gay penguins. They happen to raise orphan eggs whose parents have died.
The movie You Got Served was on TV last week
Be back later………………..
Swell, was just at a meeting representatives of Rufisque’s culture, fishing and agricultural industries, environmental groups, and womens groups. It was interesting, I just only got the gist of it all because of language stuff. I was there with Thioune (Chone) of Oceanium, and he introduced me to the leader of the Woman’s Organisation of Rufisque as an American representative who is interesting in having our two countries work together, and find out ways that we can help the women here. I laughed a bit, for it made me realize that I could basically make up a title for myself here, and if Im dressed nicely enough, I could totally pull it off. Heck, I’m already a representative for the US government for the development of women here, an English teacher, an expert on turtles, a representative of US funders, a rich spender, a marriage ticket to the new world, a doctor, and so on. Or at least that’s what I’ve been perceived as, arnt the possibilities just endless? Anywho, I just ended up writing the blog Mbissou for GCY.
My family and I had a moment of realisation yesterday that I only have 20 days left with them (including today). It was a bit shocking to say the least. They Aida started asking me if I like the drawstring pants they have here and the candy peanuts and so on… I tried to make it so that they don’t get me anything, but I don’t know how well I succeeded. A bit ridiculous though.
Looking forward to seeing everyone, but at the same time im almost scared of leaving. On one had I will miss more than a few things about being here, and on the other I just don’t really know what to expect when I come back. I know it will be the same and different, but that’s a bit vague now right? Oh well. Reverse culture shock will be interesting though. I many ways I expect it to be more of a shock than when I came here. For I had not real expectations upon my arrival other than what Rachel had told us. But I think I know my home country, so that’s a whole lifes worth of expectations and norms, that I just might not think are normal. But it’s a day by day thing.
I have to write a summary about myself in order to find a roommate. I’ve never really like the ‘tell me about yourself’ question, and this is basically that. I guess Ill start with my love of detergent and fresh green grass as always.
Speaking of which, that means detergent in less than a month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, don’t get to overly excited over there, that would just be to much excitement for the world to handle.
My butt is 3cm small than the first month I was here, or so Fatim the tailor told me. I said I already miss Senegal, she followed up by saying she already misses all of us and our money. You know, political correctness just doesn’t exist here.
For example, Abdoulaye Wade made a statue for the African Renaissance that was a massive waste of money and a disgrace for so many reasons. He flew in Jesse Jackson for the inaugration ceremony, you know, a couple hundred thousand or million dollars here and there while kids don’t have schools and people don’t have water. He then said that he thinks he should get a third of the profits from people visiting the statue because it was his idea. Pardon me, but isn’t it kind of his job as President to do things for his country? But yes, you know theres no political correcteness when corruption isn’t even a hidden thing, it’s a public proposition.
Okay ranting over. April 4th was the 50th anniversary of Senegal, Easter, and the day of this masssssssssive wrestling match. For the 2nd,3rd, and 4th we ate Ngallah- which is peanut butter, chocolate, juice from the baobob tree, raisins, and millet couscous. Overall, on the tasiter side of things, and no oil, so I was a very happy camper for those three days. Everyone went crazy as usual for the wrestling match, I even got my families reaction on video (I promise, at least when I get home that the videos will eventually get put up). As usual, the schools have taken another break for another holiday, this time for two weeks. Its always a holiday in Senegal.
Got to get back to work now, with much love, and very little time until I get to see you all, Ananda
P.S. Kylie is going to UNC!!!!yesssss
Serdipitous Senegal
I don’t really know why or how it happens, but I have the serendipitous fortune of meeting interesting people in the most random situations. For example, there was Marga of the sex trade at the restaurant, Diallo a courtier for development who works with USAID on the sidewalk, and this past week it was Salete, a Brazilian Baptist, ex-missionary current NGO worker, on a Ndiage Ndiaye. Getting into the car with Alec, we moved to fill up the seats, and somehow I ended up sitting next to the only other toubab on the buss. I would say there is about a 1% chance to find a toubab on a car, and even less a chance of actually being next to them. Out of pure curiosity, I struck up a conversation. Skip forward to Friday where Alec and I went along with Salete and her Brazilian -Baptist missionary-medical student friend Carmena to the Village of M’Bissou where she helps the local Case de Santé each and every Friday, has a football school with her husband, and aids the village by connecting them to different organizations. Upon arrival, we split up so that Alec and I could get a tour of the village from one of the citizens while Salete and Carmena went strait to work at the Case.
First we visited a school that was started by Madame Wade’s (the Presidents wife) NGO, and funded by a Moroccan donor. Out of twenty-three villages M’Bissaou won the golden ticket in the lottery for this school. I asked why M’Bissaou had been chosen, and as the story goes it might have been because they had ample land, but it was definitely because God said so. I really didn’t know schools like this existed here- I literally was walking around with my mouth open half o f the time. From the outside it was beautiful with each building domed in the Moroccan style and covered in a cream paint. Inside the gates were trees galore -manguiers, a garden, and even a rare tree arboretum where students are taught how to plant trees. To the side of the garden was a fenced in building being used to store the organically grown produce from the nearby fields and the compost that fertilized them- a perfect full circle if you may. Throughout the grounds brightly colored swing sets and play materials are scattered about. When we actually went into one of the softly glowing classrooms there was no let down- space enough for the nice desks, larger blackboards, air flowing, and sun shining in though the large windows. The biggest shock had to be the computer room though. Maybe thirty computers lined up all plugged in and available for use, early-age French DVD’s being used for language acquisition, a teacher that can fix the computers, enough power to turn them all on at the same time, and even a printer/scanner for the teachers use. In Senegal timeliness is a huge problem, especially in the school system. Teachers arrive on time rarely, late most of the time, and are absent often. To address this problem, rooms were build on school grounds for all of the teachers to stay in during the week (each with its own computer), cutting out transportation and food excuses that are often used. Once a week local women are taught how to read and write using the schools rooms. Forgive me if I seem incredulous, but after seeing public and private schools that are oppressing, beyond over crowded, run down, and lacking things as simple as chalk and toilets, this school was a bit of a shock. What would cutting out the regular concrete cases do to Senegal’s education system? More importantly, what could it do for the students?
We then made our way to the woman’s group faming co-op that lies to the side of the school. Here, Madame Wade’s NGO provided low-cost loans and information to the woman’s group. On six hectares of land there are 125 plots of land, with one woman individually cultivating each plot with a sense of ownership. Fertilized by compost made at the school, watered by a manageable drip system, crops of organic onions, potatoes, and peanuts are grown. This produce is used to feed local families, with surpluses being sold. In a region where capital and natural resources are hard to come by, this sustainable masterpiece has improved the life of everyone in the village.
Our last stop was the Case de Santé where Alec and I helped take blood pressure and weight of patients before they went to see the two Brazilians in the consultation room. Visits cost roughly a dollar, and if you need any medication that is available it is given generously and free. We witnessed one person really making a difference as Salete greeted each and ever patient in perfect Wolof like and old friend- and many were. In serious cases, such as the woman with fat visible through chewed up stitched skin, people are sent on up the health structure. More often than not though, patients leave with a treatment plan for their malady, and the information to keep them healthy within the context of their lives. For example, one grand-dame came in with headaches from high blood-pressure, and left with a couple ibuprofens, instructions for them, and how to cook her ceeb u jeen in a healthier manner. In contrast to Mr. Sahko of Valda, Salete is a foreigner who seamlessly fits into the village, rejoices in contact with the commonest of commoners, and gives to people who simply cannot buy things.
M’Bissaou and Salete’s existences in Senegal are equally improbable and hopeful. The village represents what can be attained with a smart and focused development effort, while Salete represents the type of aid worker that is so rare, yet impacts for the better with each step taken.
First we visited a school that was started by Madame Wade’s (the Presidents wife) NGO, and funded by a Moroccan donor. Out of twenty-three villages M’Bissaou won the golden ticket in the lottery for this school. I asked why M’Bissaou had been chosen, and as the story goes it might have been because they had ample land, but it was definitely because God said so. I really didn’t know schools like this existed here- I literally was walking around with my mouth open half o f the time. From the outside it was beautiful with each building domed in the Moroccan style and covered in a cream paint. Inside the gates were trees galore -manguiers, a garden, and even a rare tree arboretum where students are taught how to plant trees. To the side of the garden was a fenced in building being used to store the organically grown produce from the nearby fields and the compost that fertilized them- a perfect full circle if you may. Throughout the grounds brightly colored swing sets and play materials are scattered about. When we actually went into one of the softly glowing classrooms there was no let down- space enough for the nice desks, larger blackboards, air flowing, and sun shining in though the large windows. The biggest shock had to be the computer room though. Maybe thirty computers lined up all plugged in and available for use, early-age French DVD’s being used for language acquisition, a teacher that can fix the computers, enough power to turn them all on at the same time, and even a printer/scanner for the teachers use. In Senegal timeliness is a huge problem, especially in the school system. Teachers arrive on time rarely, late most of the time, and are absent often. To address this problem, rooms were build on school grounds for all of the teachers to stay in during the week (each with its own computer), cutting out transportation and food excuses that are often used. Once a week local women are taught how to read and write using the schools rooms. Forgive me if I seem incredulous, but after seeing public and private schools that are oppressing, beyond over crowded, run down, and lacking things as simple as chalk and toilets, this school was a bit of a shock. What would cutting out the regular concrete cases do to Senegal’s education system? More importantly, what could it do for the students?
We then made our way to the woman’s group faming co-op that lies to the side of the school. Here, Madame Wade’s NGO provided low-cost loans and information to the woman’s group. On six hectares of land there are 125 plots of land, with one woman individually cultivating each plot with a sense of ownership. Fertilized by compost made at the school, watered by a manageable drip system, crops of organic onions, potatoes, and peanuts are grown. This produce is used to feed local families, with surpluses being sold. In a region where capital and natural resources are hard to come by, this sustainable masterpiece has improved the life of everyone in the village.
Our last stop was the Case de Santé where Alec and I helped take blood pressure and weight of patients before they went to see the two Brazilians in the consultation room. Visits cost roughly a dollar, and if you need any medication that is available it is given generously and free. We witnessed one person really making a difference as Salete greeted each and ever patient in perfect Wolof like and old friend- and many were. In serious cases, such as the woman with fat visible through chewed up stitched skin, people are sent on up the health structure. More often than not though, patients leave with a treatment plan for their malady, and the information to keep them healthy within the context of their lives. For example, one grand-dame came in with headaches from high blood-pressure, and left with a couple ibuprofens, instructions for them, and how to cook her ceeb u jeen in a healthier manner. In contrast to Mr. Sahko of Valda, Salete is a foreigner who seamlessly fits into the village, rejoices in contact with the commonest of commoners, and gives to people who simply cannot buy things.
M’Bissaou and Salete’s existences in Senegal are equally improbable and hopeful. The village represents what can be attained with a smart and focused development effort, while Salete represents the type of aid worker that is so rare, yet impacts for the better with each step taken.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Wrestling With Rocks
By the way, everyone is safe and sound, and happy and healthy. Just keep that in mind while reading this. lovessssssss, me
As the cameraman scanned the seats, Alec and I were the classic toubabs seen at any event wearing some Senegalese clothing, sitting in the good seats, and complete with our camera and flip video. It was a fact happily accepted by the both of us though, as we got ready to watch a giant Senegalese wrestling competition organized by Alec’s host brother El Hadj.
First there is the dancing. The griots drum, the griottes (female griots) sing, and some of the manliest men ever do synchronized dances, even at times dropping it like its hot. As the warm up rounds started, the griots came over singing praises to the important people around us, and collected the generous donations given to them in return. As for the wrestlers, they wear the equivalent of fabric diapers and leather gris-gris, which are used as handholds while battling. One contender got without a doubt the wickedest front wedgie I have ever seen, the poor soul. The matches are also quite short in comparison with how long the buildup is. Past times during these intervals include: rating boubous and hair cuts, seeing gris-gris and Quranic water preparations, and puzzling the relative leg skinniness to uperbody massiveness.
Now the referee was this massive guy, and Alec and I presumed him to be a wrestler who was just to good to be in this small tournament. Around the third match, things were getting a bit more heated. When the two wrestlers went down, there was a discrepancy over who won. The next thing we know, the referee has a six inch hunting knife out while with the whistle in his mouth. Eventually the knife was tucked away, though we still don’t know why he had it in the first place. While arguing his case with El Hadj, Mr. Ref felt the need to repeatedly lather his face with sand. Maybe he thinks it manly and touch, or even an extreme exfoliation, but personally I would say that hurt a whole lot. Watching this all from the sidelines in our chairs next to the Chiefs, we then got a frontline view of the mediation when the referee was brought up, they talked to him, and everyone ended up laughing and happy.
The last match comes up then, it’s a fair win, and everyone goes crazy, literally. There were happy supporters in one part, and then things started falling from the sky. Alec smiled and said “look, it’s a food fight!” for he thought bread was falling from the sky. I then promptly grabbed him and made him run away with Fanta (his host mother), me, and everyone else for they were in actuality slightly large bread colored rocks. First we headed to the house next to the compound, and then with a mass of grand-dames, we all flocked to Alec’s house. There which we set out mats for the grand dames to sit on, and they explained that this is actually a fairly regular occurrence. This took maybe five minutes. Four minutes later, all was good and well, people were happy, and I caught an ndiag-ndiaye home. Dancing manliness, great pomp and ceremony, traditions galore, all the new interesting situations made for a great night?
As the cameraman scanned the seats, Alec and I were the classic toubabs seen at any event wearing some Senegalese clothing, sitting in the good seats, and complete with our camera and flip video. It was a fact happily accepted by the both of us though, as we got ready to watch a giant Senegalese wrestling competition organized by Alec’s host brother El Hadj.
First there is the dancing. The griots drum, the griottes (female griots) sing, and some of the manliest men ever do synchronized dances, even at times dropping it like its hot. As the warm up rounds started, the griots came over singing praises to the important people around us, and collected the generous donations given to them in return. As for the wrestlers, they wear the equivalent of fabric diapers and leather gris-gris, which are used as handholds while battling. One contender got without a doubt the wickedest front wedgie I have ever seen, the poor soul. The matches are also quite short in comparison with how long the buildup is. Past times during these intervals include: rating boubous and hair cuts, seeing gris-gris and Quranic water preparations, and puzzling the relative leg skinniness to uperbody massiveness.
Now the referee was this massive guy, and Alec and I presumed him to be a wrestler who was just to good to be in this small tournament. Around the third match, things were getting a bit more heated. When the two wrestlers went down, there was a discrepancy over who won. The next thing we know, the referee has a six inch hunting knife out while with the whistle in his mouth. Eventually the knife was tucked away, though we still don’t know why he had it in the first place. While arguing his case with El Hadj, Mr. Ref felt the need to repeatedly lather his face with sand. Maybe he thinks it manly and touch, or even an extreme exfoliation, but personally I would say that hurt a whole lot. Watching this all from the sidelines in our chairs next to the Chiefs, we then got a frontline view of the mediation when the referee was brought up, they talked to him, and everyone ended up laughing and happy.
The last match comes up then, it’s a fair win, and everyone goes crazy, literally. There were happy supporters in one part, and then things started falling from the sky. Alec smiled and said “look, it’s a food fight!” for he thought bread was falling from the sky. I then promptly grabbed him and made him run away with Fanta (his host mother), me, and everyone else for they were in actuality slightly large bread colored rocks. First we headed to the house next to the compound, and then with a mass of grand-dames, we all flocked to Alec’s house. There which we set out mats for the grand dames to sit on, and they explained that this is actually a fairly regular occurrence. This took maybe five minutes. Four minutes later, all was good and well, people were happy, and I caught an ndiag-ndiaye home. Dancing manliness, great pomp and ceremony, traditions galore, all the new interesting situations made for a great night?
Friday, March 19, 2010
New Marriage à la Mode Blog
Years ago when the French first arrived in Senegal on the Island of Saint Louis, male colonists would come, create transient marriages with local women while in country, and would return to France leaving everything, including any relationship title, behind. Going by the name of “marriage à la mode”, these relationships were used by locals to advance themselves through associative power transfer, in the very least gaining status by their connections with the white colonists, and at the most ‘escaping‘to western civilization. Though many details have changed, a modern day marriage à la mode can still be seen in existence in present day Senegal.
Last week I was eating breakfast at the family restaurant, and in walked Marga (or Margia while traveling). She is average height, mid thirties, not very sweet on the eyes in the kindest way possible, a Dutch philosophy teacher for first through twelfth graders, and happens to be in Senegal for sex. Specifically with Ibrahim, who is twenty two, intelligent, speaks seven different languages, and is perfectly beautiful. While Ibrahim was fetching her breakfast, we found common ground in the fact that we both speak English better than French, and then began to discuss our reasons for being here- me with my studies, and her with Ibrahim. It turns out that she had met him on the beach of Kumba Diallo after she had become sufficiently fed up with all of her Bifall flings. Our areas converged on the topic of development, for what does this burgeoning sex and escape trade mean for a country today?
Tourism, peanuts, and music are the current industries floating Senegal along the upper tier of developing countries. Tourist come here and spend their money, be it on trinkets, transportation, lodging, guides, food, flights, or “buying some love” (a direct quote from Ms. Margia). Economics says that when there is a market and demand, no doubt a supply will be found. With its developing status and constant search for new economies, it is no wonder that Senegal has caught onto this trade. Unemployment is rampant here, even for those with college degrees. With the uneducated and graduates sitting side by side on a bench drinking tea, and a constant need for money to supply and infinite list from school to food, most will do anything for even the scent of income. This is set in contrast to the excess of the west, where surplus everything is much more common.
With respect to relationships, Toubabs offer three options today. The first option is the quite clear cut prostitution. The locals make a profit, the foreigners get what they want, and its over in whatever amount of time. Option two is the in country relationship. While here, the local will essentially be have a liaison with the foreigner, traveling, and eating, experiencing, ensemble. They may get gifts or expenses taken care of, but the most that comes out of this is a status high that many hold in a possibly warped proportion. This is only a lead up to the third and final option, which is also the goal many, not just those involved in enticing tourists on a regular basis-a real relationship and escape. The thinking being that if you make a foreigner fall in love with you, they will take you back with them, and you will have a better life and more opportunities, and hopefully send aid back to family in Senegal. Talk to any local, and presenting a migratory option will be the number one impact they think westerners have here in Senegal. Etagieres have come to the Village des Tortues and swept up workers, my host father talks of western women who cannot find eligible bachelors in their home countries coming here for prospects, and that doesn’t begin to explain how readily people acknowledge this certain foreign effect.
In a culture that supports the export and exploitation of its own people as a means to a better end, what lies on the unfortunate side of the business? Obviously the spread of disease is an ever present roar, especially with beast of AIDS in much of Africa. Beyond that though, there is the future of the people involved in this undependable commerce. Once their youth is gone, there is no saying what they will do. Yet, that just leaves them in the same situation and hundreds of thousands of their countrymen. What is to say that this is a good or bad thing then? Does the government even address it as a problem? Essentially, who cares?
Westerners are still coming to Senegal and creating fleeting status propping relationships or taking some back with them, extending the marriage à la mode fad to the current day. When Marga was exiting with Ibrahim, she parted with wishes that I have a good life. Left with a feeling of moral confusion at her actions and the obvious good person she was, my feelings mirrored the issue at hand. From the outside I can say these marriages à la mode feel wrong, if only for the exploitation, but I’m not the one looking for a hope in passports either.
Last week I was eating breakfast at the family restaurant, and in walked Marga (or Margia while traveling). She is average height, mid thirties, not very sweet on the eyes in the kindest way possible, a Dutch philosophy teacher for first through twelfth graders, and happens to be in Senegal for sex. Specifically with Ibrahim, who is twenty two, intelligent, speaks seven different languages, and is perfectly beautiful. While Ibrahim was fetching her breakfast, we found common ground in the fact that we both speak English better than French, and then began to discuss our reasons for being here- me with my studies, and her with Ibrahim. It turns out that she had met him on the beach of Kumba Diallo after she had become sufficiently fed up with all of her Bifall flings. Our areas converged on the topic of development, for what does this burgeoning sex and escape trade mean for a country today?
Tourism, peanuts, and music are the current industries floating Senegal along the upper tier of developing countries. Tourist come here and spend their money, be it on trinkets, transportation, lodging, guides, food, flights, or “buying some love” (a direct quote from Ms. Margia). Economics says that when there is a market and demand, no doubt a supply will be found. With its developing status and constant search for new economies, it is no wonder that Senegal has caught onto this trade. Unemployment is rampant here, even for those with college degrees. With the uneducated and graduates sitting side by side on a bench drinking tea, and a constant need for money to supply and infinite list from school to food, most will do anything for even the scent of income. This is set in contrast to the excess of the west, where surplus everything is much more common.
With respect to relationships, Toubabs offer three options today. The first option is the quite clear cut prostitution. The locals make a profit, the foreigners get what they want, and its over in whatever amount of time. Option two is the in country relationship. While here, the local will essentially be have a liaison with the foreigner, traveling, and eating, experiencing, ensemble. They may get gifts or expenses taken care of, but the most that comes out of this is a status high that many hold in a possibly warped proportion. This is only a lead up to the third and final option, which is also the goal many, not just those involved in enticing tourists on a regular basis-a real relationship and escape. The thinking being that if you make a foreigner fall in love with you, they will take you back with them, and you will have a better life and more opportunities, and hopefully send aid back to family in Senegal. Talk to any local, and presenting a migratory option will be the number one impact they think westerners have here in Senegal. Etagieres have come to the Village des Tortues and swept up workers, my host father talks of western women who cannot find eligible bachelors in their home countries coming here for prospects, and that doesn’t begin to explain how readily people acknowledge this certain foreign effect.
In a culture that supports the export and exploitation of its own people as a means to a better end, what lies on the unfortunate side of the business? Obviously the spread of disease is an ever present roar, especially with beast of AIDS in much of Africa. Beyond that though, there is the future of the people involved in this undependable commerce. Once their youth is gone, there is no saying what they will do. Yet, that just leaves them in the same situation and hundreds of thousands of their countrymen. What is to say that this is a good or bad thing then? Does the government even address it as a problem? Essentially, who cares?
Westerners are still coming to Senegal and creating fleeting status propping relationships or taking some back with them, extending the marriage à la mode fad to the current day. When Marga was exiting with Ibrahim, she parted with wishes that I have a good life. Left with a feeling of moral confusion at her actions and the obvious good person she was, my feelings mirrored the issue at hand. From the outside I can say these marriages à la mode feel wrong, if only for the exploitation, but I’m not the one looking for a hope in passports either.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Classification : Touristus éstagierus
When you step into the Village des Tortues, it is a different world from the rest of Senegal. Not only is it a haven for the endangered G. Sulcata turtle, but also for the ample toubabs that romp around Senegal. Of late, there has been a massive influx of what I like to call Touristus éstagierus- the eco-voluntiering tourist who comes for days, weeks, or even months. They come with good intentions- be it helping the Village, learning about the culture, or just a good old cheap vacation where learning and helping just happen to be on the agenda. Upon arrival, they bring their high expectations and good intentions where they try to do everything and all at once. They are then hit with the Sengalise bug, or one could say the turtle sickness of everything always going quite slowly, leading to discontent as they see much of their efforts being thwarted (unintentionally of course). This is usually the point when the Village turns into a sanctuary for them, a little escape from the culture shock and work style that rocks them out of their token gipsy pants. Whenever any fellow toubab arrives, you can see the relief spread across their features, as here surely is someone who understands what troubles they are going through at this moment, someone they can vent to about the tea-time obsession angst or how things never happen now. In the end, they tend to leave with dreads, trinkets, or diembés that stimulate the local economy, a list of things completed that has nothing to do with what they came for, and a new found patience for themselves and the ones surrounding them. It would be easy to say that these people have a real impact here at the Village des Tortues or even in Senegal as a whole, but the majority of that is through their spending sprees. The real brunt of the implications are loaded onto these people as they return home with knowledge and a perspective that makes them separate once again. They are no longer the common ignorant toubab, nor are they really part of the country, as the haven saved them from much of reality. Indeed, they are a species all to themselves.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A Different Kind of Breakfast
Jaimé of Spain, and Marga of Holland. Both are around their late 30’s or early 40’s, have respectable jobs ( documentary film maker and high school philosophy teacher respectively), are not the finest looking things out there ( that may be a generous description); and both came to Senegal for the same thing: sex. While it is easy enough to hear about the prostitution trade and its problems in Africa, it is something else to see it and have conversations about how it affects the development of countries while it is playing out before your eyes. The easily targeted spot here is the beach of Kumba Diallo, with Bifalls, drum circles, tourists, and their traps galore. Locals look to foreigners as a source of money, and maybe even a way out of the country, while the tourists come in looking for a good time at any rate- all creating a parasitic positive feedback loop. Of course this is confined to those few small places… right? Nope, not at all. Those who work at the Village des Tortues talk of the added bonus and chances to find romance and a way out of Senegal, in Noflaye while almost no one knows or bothers to care about the Village des Tortues environmental impact; they always talk about how some tourist come in to Noflaye,; of these some fall in love with it, and then give things, and then maybe fall in love and whisk away a someone or other. Even my host father commented yesterday on how western men and women come to Senegal in order to find a spouse as it is “just to hard” to find a good match where they come from. Parting from my breakfast meeting with Marga, or Margia when she travels, she wished me a good life, and I could not help but feel that she was a good person as was Jaimé. But oh, what a sick world.
Dude, it was hilarious though ( and a bit sad). This beautiful african guy, and this awkward pudgy dutch lady. She said she fell for him because of his mind, and how he was different than all the other bifalls. She also had a penchant for beans and a hearty breakfast. Also said i spoke french well, scorrreeee.
currently there is a massive influx of french people here, so its kina wierd. but its okay, they bring tasty treats.
fun meetings coming up, ngos of SOS envronnement et possiblement oceanium et UNICEF. fabulous.
i also made my family mint mochas this week, and it made me happy to introduce them to it ( mostly loved it, save one kid and a maid), and because i got to drink the left overs the next day. mmm tasty.
also, alec gave me some fig newtons. for the record, strawberry fig newtons reign supreme. the end, with much love
Dude, it was hilarious though ( and a bit sad). This beautiful african guy, and this awkward pudgy dutch lady. She said she fell for him because of his mind, and how he was different than all the other bifalls. She also had a penchant for beans and a hearty breakfast. Also said i spoke french well, scorrreeee.
currently there is a massive influx of french people here, so its kina wierd. but its okay, they bring tasty treats.
fun meetings coming up, ngos of SOS envronnement et possiblement oceanium et UNICEF. fabulous.
i also made my family mint mochas this week, and it made me happy to introduce them to it ( mostly loved it, save one kid and a maid), and because i got to drink the left overs the next day. mmm tasty.
also, alec gave me some fig newtons. for the record, strawberry fig newtons reign supreme. the end, with much love
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A Little Ditty About Forgiveness
A couple of weeks ago a lot of personally and monetarily valued things were stolen from me. Cameras, phone, favorite shirts, money, and so on. The roughest part by far being the loss of my notebook containing four months of notes and all of the studies that I had completed in Noflaye thus far. The first two days were a bit rough as thoughts of all the time and money that were lost and would have to be used in order to correct the situation played a loop in my head. I may well have been the person who was hit most directly, but what mattered more was the time lost that my friends put into helping me do interviews, or Rachel having to help me figure everything out. It really wasn’t about being angry at any person, or even the events. More than anything, it was a stretch to try to actually forgive myself for not thinking of all the “what if’s” in the world, of what I could have done better. Well, in all honesty, that wouldn’t have been possible before. If this had happened when I first arrived, I would have beaten myself up for days on end, and I can only hope that I wouldn’t have let it define my year. Somehow though, it turns out that I could, and did forgive myself. It’s a bit surreal to realize that a few short months have created such a shift in me. So I leave you with my friend John Mellancamp, for oh yes, life does, in fact, go on.
Monday, February 22, 2010
February Update
So random events that have happened of late:
Got robbed at the beach. Don’t worry, im okay, just lost a ton of things- backpack, four months of notes, cameras, money, phone.etc. The adventure of getting back included: somehow explaining to a Pular herder/ charcoal creater that we (me and one guy and girl, French) had gotten robbed in Wolof, trekking through the forest following him, getting to the village of Kayak to ‘declare’ the theft, which magically happened at the exact same moment that university students studying the salinity of the waters around lac rose came by to check the well in the village, riding around doing their studies with them until 9ish at night, getting dropped off at the village des tortues, and then using the computer and skype to finally text Rachel and tell her what happened, for no one had credit to call her (or phones or money for that matter), so she had to call the village phone. And then Tons couldn’t even come out to visit me from Dakar because there was a gas shortage and literally no gas in Dakar. Epic.
Restarted all my studies in Noflaye because they were all lost in the Robbery
Finally have a lock on my door again after we had to break it open (because my keys were stolen). It was annoying because the door would open all the time when I wasn’t home, letting in more bugs, weave piecies, onion peels, ash, and other such things.
My host father gave me a jar of Nutella to make me happy after the fact. It helped, I wont lie.
Have now taught the games “down by the river” and “duck, duck, goose” to the kids in the English club in Rufisque. The latter was a result of only having 30 minutues left in class, and we were done with playing down by the river. The advantage of the game is that it only consists of two English words. They also weren’t familiar with the word for goose in French, so they just think that it’s a very large duck.
While walking into Noflaye to start my studies I saw six women, and one kid. Three of them were packing babies ( I mean they had them on, as in strapped to their backs. it’s the way that babies are ported around there- as if they were hugging your back, and then you tie a piece of cloth around them so they stay that way.). They all had passive packs of sticks ontop of their heads as well. For some reason I think of them as a baby toting, stick brandishing, mob.
I like to learn during breakfast. For example, last week I was talking to my friend Pap during breakfast the day after Valentines day. So: women who happen to have large butts and are older are supposed to have massive gris-gris (like, leather waist bracelets) that they wear all the time. Theyre supposed to be a sign of experience, and in his words “all the bosses like to have sex with them.” Another direct quote (that has been supported by many other people, cough, men) is that “ the way to do it is to have two girlfriends- one in each separate quaarter of the town, because then you can hit them both up” (in the context of Valentines day).
Its also taboo to talk about sex with your children, which is one of the reasons that there are so many preventable events- teen pregnancy, spread of disease, etc. For example, Victoria has a cousin in her host family who has a little 8 year old boy. He had sex with a 13 year old girl. They had a baby this year. The family showed her a picture of the “happy family”-8 year old boy, 13 year old mother, new born baby-and commented on how adorable it was. I personally associate adorable with things like baby pandas who sneeze, my cat, the kids I coach, or certain acts of kindness. I associate nausea and anger with situations like that.
Just had our monthly meeting in Saint Louis, and it was amazing. Side note: I was sick before the monthly meeting and was doing a lot better. Now, Im super sick again. But it was all worth it. don’t worry, Ill be good as new in no time.
Well Matt, Alec, and I had to go to Dakar on Wednesday so that we could sleep over at rachels- for we were to leave super early in the morning in a sept-place- a clando that fits seven passengers and the driver- up to SL. Alec and I went to this place called the Chinease mission where the chinease are teaching Senegalese people farming techniques (and who Alec is friends with because he speaks mandarin, and his parents are chinease), and got a massive amount.. 10poundsish, of green leafy vegetables for dinner. We only got two bok choi, one cabbage, and one leak, and it was all 10 pounds, meaning these were massive vegetables.
On the Diagne Diage up to Dakar Matt had to pee. The word for pee in wolof is sow. The word for milk is sou (like sew). So at a stop Matt talked to the driver and was like “bug na sou, bug na sou….. Bug na sow.” I want some milk, I want some milk…. I gotta pee.” The whole front laughed hysterically- especially as the driver was looking at him with the look of “I don’t care if you want milk and it wouldn’t matter because I don’t have any… Im a driver“. They also watched him when he got off to make sure that he was doing it right, even pointing out which part of the wall he should go to. Hilarious.
In Dakar- went to the first post office in fann- and once again they told me that my package had been moved to the main post office. I then went through an extensive search and calling journey to find out if there was actually a package, or if it was just another second delivery slip for the packages that I had already gotten. Turns out that I actually had a package. Raced downtown with a very nice taximan, got there in time, got my package from Kailee (!), and my taximan even waited for me (I asked him to because he actually gave me the right rate even though I was white), back to the baobob center. I plan to share one pack of oreo’s with my family so that they can taste them. With the other packs I will then savor them with secret delight. They also don’t believe me when I say that we have peanut butter in America, so now I have an example of american peanut butter to show them!!! Great success. I also feel like I have way to many goodies now, and so little time to eat them. I finally ate my first packet of oatmeal while I was sick, and it was magical. While waiting for Matt to get his deoderant, Alec and I ransacked the book sections of the Baobab center. I believe he got over twenty books. I got a couple, but that may be just because I know I can always steal his once he finishes. Don’t worry, we will bring at least most of them back before we leave.
Then we went to Rachels. The night consisted of planning how to cook all of the vegetables and eat her leftovers that wouldn’t keep throughout the trip. So our dinner consited of : scallion pancakes, bok choi and asian cabbage lightly sautéed with garlic and olive oil, a left over bolegnese sauce, chicken soup (which we forgot until we had finished eating sadly), and a potatoe and cheese baked dish which I cant believe I just forgot the name of (potatoe slices with the cheese/cream in between each of them, then baked, whatever, Ill remember one day). It was superb. The sad thing being that because I was sick I had absolutely no appetite. Its okay though, I still ate a ton just because I thought it would be a waste not to take the delicious opportunity.
The sept place ride in the morning was… tight. Alec, Matt, and I squished into the back of a hatchback on the seats that have negative leg room for 3 hours and then some. I got through two of the readings for the monthly meeting, complete with really illegible notes (other than hitting potholes, the car itself actually vibrated at all speed), and only a couple of head smashing potholes.
We actually stayed in a hotel. Rachel warned us that this would be like a mini vacation, and in all honesty it was. There was even hot water (okay, warm, but mainly not cold water), a pool (used once even though I knew it would make me a bit sicker), wi-fi (probably the surrealist thing), a ping pong table (not used because there was not enough time), and such hotel like things. We all felt a bit weird and out of place to be honest. Almost like we were cheating, even if there was nothing to be cheating in.
Day one was taken up travel up until 3, then lunch (Rachel and Tons had to pick up the Sebikotan girls, and Rachel had a doctors appointment in the morning that ran over, yes, I probably got sick from here. Oh well.), a bit of a break, and into Saint Louis as the sun was setting in order to see all the building and do historical walks and such, which was made a bit hard by Rachel having no voice. It was beautiful though, tons and tons of colonial architechture- much of which resembles the old buildings in New Orleans if you want a reference point. But many of which are crumbling down due to lack of funds to restore them. Then went to a Dijbeterie- basically a Senegalese meat restaurant where we all shared this massive plate of grilled lamb. Oh Senegal
Day two was talking about all of our readings. They were superbly interesting- underdevelopment theory, flaw in aid, colonial economic policy, and so on. We also talked about things that we have accomplished and things that still wait for it.
Day three was a visit to Diouje (sp) national park- over 365 species of birds. Tons of videos and pictures and such. Also visited the damn on the Senegal boarder. Rachel wouldn’t let us run across the Mauritania border or even get close to it because it supposedly has new Al Qaeda connections.
Got back yesterday. Smuggled two chocolate croissants. Am currently superbly sick again.
I read the Phantom tollbooth in less than six hours, and it was amazing. Havnt quite decided what I will read next. Probably will actually work on writing letters oh joy.
Looking to set up meetings with Oceanium and UNICEF. That is on the very optimistic side though.
Its absolutely crazy to think that there are only two months left. I feel like I have so much to do and so little time to do them. Yet two months is still pretty long if you think about it.
Now off to read more, or respond to letters. Probably the latter. or write official blgos
Got robbed at the beach. Don’t worry, im okay, just lost a ton of things- backpack, four months of notes, cameras, money, phone.etc. The adventure of getting back included: somehow explaining to a Pular herder/ charcoal creater that we (me and one guy and girl, French) had gotten robbed in Wolof, trekking through the forest following him, getting to the village of Kayak to ‘declare’ the theft, which magically happened at the exact same moment that university students studying the salinity of the waters around lac rose came by to check the well in the village, riding around doing their studies with them until 9ish at night, getting dropped off at the village des tortues, and then using the computer and skype to finally text Rachel and tell her what happened, for no one had credit to call her (or phones or money for that matter), so she had to call the village phone. And then Tons couldn’t even come out to visit me from Dakar because there was a gas shortage and literally no gas in Dakar. Epic.
Restarted all my studies in Noflaye because they were all lost in the Robbery
Finally have a lock on my door again after we had to break it open (because my keys were stolen). It was annoying because the door would open all the time when I wasn’t home, letting in more bugs, weave piecies, onion peels, ash, and other such things.
My host father gave me a jar of Nutella to make me happy after the fact. It helped, I wont lie.
Have now taught the games “down by the river” and “duck, duck, goose” to the kids in the English club in Rufisque. The latter was a result of only having 30 minutues left in class, and we were done with playing down by the river. The advantage of the game is that it only consists of two English words. They also weren’t familiar with the word for goose in French, so they just think that it’s a very large duck.
While walking into Noflaye to start my studies I saw six women, and one kid. Three of them were packing babies ( I mean they had them on, as in strapped to their backs. it’s the way that babies are ported around there- as if they were hugging your back, and then you tie a piece of cloth around them so they stay that way.). They all had passive packs of sticks ontop of their heads as well. For some reason I think of them as a baby toting, stick brandishing, mob.
I like to learn during breakfast. For example, last week I was talking to my friend Pap during breakfast the day after Valentines day. So: women who happen to have large butts and are older are supposed to have massive gris-gris (like, leather waist bracelets) that they wear all the time. Theyre supposed to be a sign of experience, and in his words “all the bosses like to have sex with them.” Another direct quote (that has been supported by many other people, cough, men) is that “ the way to do it is to have two girlfriends- one in each separate quaarter of the town, because then you can hit them both up” (in the context of Valentines day).
Its also taboo to talk about sex with your children, which is one of the reasons that there are so many preventable events- teen pregnancy, spread of disease, etc. For example, Victoria has a cousin in her host family who has a little 8 year old boy. He had sex with a 13 year old girl. They had a baby this year. The family showed her a picture of the “happy family”-8 year old boy, 13 year old mother, new born baby-and commented on how adorable it was. I personally associate adorable with things like baby pandas who sneeze, my cat, the kids I coach, or certain acts of kindness. I associate nausea and anger with situations like that.
Just had our monthly meeting in Saint Louis, and it was amazing. Side note: I was sick before the monthly meeting and was doing a lot better. Now, Im super sick again. But it was all worth it. don’t worry, Ill be good as new in no time.
Well Matt, Alec, and I had to go to Dakar on Wednesday so that we could sleep over at rachels- for we were to leave super early in the morning in a sept-place- a clando that fits seven passengers and the driver- up to SL. Alec and I went to this place called the Chinease mission where the chinease are teaching Senegalese people farming techniques (and who Alec is friends with because he speaks mandarin, and his parents are chinease), and got a massive amount.. 10poundsish, of green leafy vegetables for dinner. We only got two bok choi, one cabbage, and one leak, and it was all 10 pounds, meaning these were massive vegetables.
On the Diagne Diage up to Dakar Matt had to pee. The word for pee in wolof is sow. The word for milk is sou (like sew). So at a stop Matt talked to the driver and was like “bug na sou, bug na sou….. Bug na sow.” I want some milk, I want some milk…. I gotta pee.” The whole front laughed hysterically- especially as the driver was looking at him with the look of “I don’t care if you want milk and it wouldn’t matter because I don’t have any… Im a driver“. They also watched him when he got off to make sure that he was doing it right, even pointing out which part of the wall he should go to. Hilarious.
In Dakar- went to the first post office in fann- and once again they told me that my package had been moved to the main post office. I then went through an extensive search and calling journey to find out if there was actually a package, or if it was just another second delivery slip for the packages that I had already gotten. Turns out that I actually had a package. Raced downtown with a very nice taximan, got there in time, got my package from Kailee (!), and my taximan even waited for me (I asked him to because he actually gave me the right rate even though I was white), back to the baobob center. I plan to share one pack of oreo’s with my family so that they can taste them. With the other packs I will then savor them with secret delight. They also don’t believe me when I say that we have peanut butter in America, so now I have an example of american peanut butter to show them!!! Great success. I also feel like I have way to many goodies now, and so little time to eat them. I finally ate my first packet of oatmeal while I was sick, and it was magical. While waiting for Matt to get his deoderant, Alec and I ransacked the book sections of the Baobab center. I believe he got over twenty books. I got a couple, but that may be just because I know I can always steal his once he finishes. Don’t worry, we will bring at least most of them back before we leave.
Then we went to Rachels. The night consisted of planning how to cook all of the vegetables and eat her leftovers that wouldn’t keep throughout the trip. So our dinner consited of : scallion pancakes, bok choi and asian cabbage lightly sautéed with garlic and olive oil, a left over bolegnese sauce, chicken soup (which we forgot until we had finished eating sadly), and a potatoe and cheese baked dish which I cant believe I just forgot the name of (potatoe slices with the cheese/cream in between each of them, then baked, whatever, Ill remember one day). It was superb. The sad thing being that because I was sick I had absolutely no appetite. Its okay though, I still ate a ton just because I thought it would be a waste not to take the delicious opportunity.
The sept place ride in the morning was… tight. Alec, Matt, and I squished into the back of a hatchback on the seats that have negative leg room for 3 hours and then some. I got through two of the readings for the monthly meeting, complete with really illegible notes (other than hitting potholes, the car itself actually vibrated at all speed), and only a couple of head smashing potholes.
We actually stayed in a hotel. Rachel warned us that this would be like a mini vacation, and in all honesty it was. There was even hot water (okay, warm, but mainly not cold water), a pool (used once even though I knew it would make me a bit sicker), wi-fi (probably the surrealist thing), a ping pong table (not used because there was not enough time), and such hotel like things. We all felt a bit weird and out of place to be honest. Almost like we were cheating, even if there was nothing to be cheating in.
Day one was taken up travel up until 3, then lunch (Rachel and Tons had to pick up the Sebikotan girls, and Rachel had a doctors appointment in the morning that ran over, yes, I probably got sick from here. Oh well.), a bit of a break, and into Saint Louis as the sun was setting in order to see all the building and do historical walks and such, which was made a bit hard by Rachel having no voice. It was beautiful though, tons and tons of colonial architechture- much of which resembles the old buildings in New Orleans if you want a reference point. But many of which are crumbling down due to lack of funds to restore them. Then went to a Dijbeterie- basically a Senegalese meat restaurant where we all shared this massive plate of grilled lamb. Oh Senegal
Day two was talking about all of our readings. They were superbly interesting- underdevelopment theory, flaw in aid, colonial economic policy, and so on. We also talked about things that we have accomplished and things that still wait for it.
Day three was a visit to Diouje (sp) national park- over 365 species of birds. Tons of videos and pictures and such. Also visited the damn on the Senegal boarder. Rachel wouldn’t let us run across the Mauritania border or even get close to it because it supposedly has new Al Qaeda connections.
Got back yesterday. Smuggled two chocolate croissants. Am currently superbly sick again.
I read the Phantom tollbooth in less than six hours, and it was amazing. Havnt quite decided what I will read next. Probably will actually work on writing letters oh joy.
Looking to set up meetings with Oceanium and UNICEF. That is on the very optimistic side though.
Its absolutely crazy to think that there are only two months left. I feel like I have so much to do and so little time to do them. Yet two months is still pretty long if you think about it.
Now off to read more, or respond to letters. Probably the latter. or write official blgos
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