Tuesday, December 29, 2009
The British Are Coming, the British Are Coming!!! Or, err, the bread?
8:00 a.m. - Wake up, get ready for the day, head over to our family’s restaurant to go eat my bread and tegga degga (natural, no added hydrogenated oil, peanut butter, yum).
8:30 a.m. - Find out that the bread has, in fact, not already arrived at Mamour’s Boutique, and so we stop and pass the time by trying to be the first person to find the white, hearse shaped, bread car. There are an amazing amount of imposter cars.
9:15am- People search the other boutiques in town for the remnants of last night’s bread, which isn’t exactly soft anymore. About three people get to eat and go on with their days. Currently the whole village is at a standstill- no one goes anywhere or does much of anything, as we are all playing the waiting game. This would be why people have so much patience here.
10:03 a.m. - Bread Arrives!!!!!!!!! We jokingly cheer, people eat, lives commence, and I go to work.
It’s easy to take something simple out of this situation- like if there was ever a war in Senegal, just go for the bread makers and the whole country would stop- yet it exemplifies so much more. The plain, empty, usually abundant, cheap white baguette bread that is sold here is essential to almost every person and household as a cheap way to get calories. While people eat things like chocolate spread or eggs with their bread sometimes, it is simply not within most families means to make meals, most of the times for huge households, that don’t contain a one food or another that can inexpensively fill people up. Here its rice, couscous for the poorer families (even though it has more nutrients), and bread and, from what I gather, its beans and tortillas in Guatemala. Either way, it is distinct example of the poverty and fragility with which the people around me live. One little thing, like not having the bread delivered, or how yesterday there was just simply no water, can completely change or halt life here. There are no back up plans, no second options to help life continue. For that takes money, space, liberty, ideas, whatever you may- all of which are harder to come by, the poorer you are.
8:30 a.m. - Find out that the bread has, in fact, not already arrived at Mamour’s Boutique, and so we stop and pass the time by trying to be the first person to find the white, hearse shaped, bread car. There are an amazing amount of imposter cars.
9:15am- People search the other boutiques in town for the remnants of last night’s bread, which isn’t exactly soft anymore. About three people get to eat and go on with their days. Currently the whole village is at a standstill- no one goes anywhere or does much of anything, as we are all playing the waiting game. This would be why people have so much patience here.
10:03 a.m. - Bread Arrives!!!!!!!!! We jokingly cheer, people eat, lives commence, and I go to work.
It’s easy to take something simple out of this situation- like if there was ever a war in Senegal, just go for the bread makers and the whole country would stop- yet it exemplifies so much more. The plain, empty, usually abundant, cheap white baguette bread that is sold here is essential to almost every person and household as a cheap way to get calories. While people eat things like chocolate spread or eggs with their bread sometimes, it is simply not within most families means to make meals, most of the times for huge households, that don’t contain a one food or another that can inexpensively fill people up. Here its rice, couscous for the poorer families (even though it has more nutrients), and bread and, from what I gather, its beans and tortillas in Guatemala. Either way, it is distinct example of the poverty and fragility with which the people around me live. One little thing, like not having the bread delivered, or how yesterday there was just simply no water, can completely change or halt life here. There are no back up plans, no second options to help life continue. For that takes money, space, liberty, ideas, whatever you may- all of which are harder to come by, the poorer you are.
Christmas Mashing of the Mass
America is known for its obsession with political correctness. Have any public figure make one slip or slightly slanted joke, and the horse race media takes it over to spin every angle and proportion out of the story. Senegal for one, runs on a very different scale of political correctness, neatly exemplified by how I’m always greeted by the name toubab, or whitey. I’ve always thought of myself as a person who’s pretty good at handling humor or politics, whether I agree with them or not. Then I went to mass on Christmas morning, which had been moved from the night before due to the fact that the Pastor didn’t show up. I knew that it wouldn’t be the same as Duke Chapel, but expected consciously and unconsciously, the same love, peace, and nondenominational message. While the people at the mass call themselves Christians in general, it was a very distinctive Catholic service, complete with Holy Communion. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, but it was just a bit surprising. Then the Pastor went on to preach. It started with the peace and love message, and then slowly turned into a joke about how God did not, in fact, make an original fish that then turned into man- Church 1: Evolution: 0. Then he really got rolling: while the Muslims should be applauded for asking for forgiveness each year, how can they believe in more profits than just Jesus? While we are all good Christians, we must remember to set an example for others. Look at Rwanda, they are 94 percent Christian and have had the genocide of the century! Something about Taiwan and Toubab (Alec and I) followed when the Pastor switched to wolof. Finally, it was all capped off when I met the Pastor at the end of the service… and he commenced to try and get me to marry him and bring him back to America with me. While this may have just been a very…individualy interpreted holiday message, it was quite an experience. Touché Senegal, for now being called toubab is on the politically correct side my scale.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The Absolute Randomest Jumpiest post ever, yay week of Christmas.
Fun updates in bad grammar, yay!!!
Okay, well lets see. This week was pretty crazy. Went to Dakar on Monday with my host mother to get a pair of jeans that actually fits (the ones I brought are more like comfy bagginess, not exactly good for anything but lounging and such), and then ended up having to go back the next day at (woken up at 5:50 am, left at 6:30, got there at 9:25) to fill out visa forms for Gambia and get our visa pictures taken. All of us, except matt, went to this French restaurant/bakery for lunch and it was complete heaven. I had a three cheese quiche and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. I may have felt slightly sick from the richness of it all, but it was sick heaven. Then there was a bus ride from 2 to 6 to get back to my town (with no traffic, I think it would take about 30 min, maybbbbe).
So I was going to go to midnight mass on Christmas eve… and then my friend Marcel (christian) comes back, and says that the pastor either didn’t want to come, or couldn’t find transport… so mass was put off until 10am on Christmas day. Then comes a very catholic service, which I was surprised at simply because im used to a very non denominational service. And then there was the pastor. Well, first he made a joke about evolution and how god didn’t make an original fish that then turned into a man. Then there was the laugh at how Muslims believe in a prophet other than just Jesus (but they have the redeeming quality of asking for forgiveness for the new year). “for even though we Christians live love and peace, we need to remember that those are our values. Look at Rwanda. Its 94% Christian, yet they have had the genocide of the century”. Then there was something about a whitey and asian (Taiwan, made me laugh) when he said some stuff in Wolof. Finally, when I met him after the service, he hit on me and asked to go to America with me like every other Senegalise man. Yep, it was epic, and made me miss home quite a bit. At least it’s a good story though. Oh, and the chorus…they have a drum section.. Even the national service had a drum section for the chorus. Silent Night with added beats is just wrong.
Um, lets see, on Christmas day there was a ‘christian’ Christmas party over in sangalkam- first there was this choral concert, but like there was the African drumline, and then all the old fat ladies would bust out dancing once the beat hit. Then it was on to the dance, around 1 am, where I must say, I kill. I finally learnt the ridiculous Senegalese dance moves, and everyone was basically in awe that a toubab/whitey could dance. I probably dance with you know, at least a third of the people there. I decided to help Penda to convince Aida to let her come to the party with us, but shes really kina awkward,/ boringinsh, I thought sprining her from the coop would make her livelier, but sadly, not really at all. Africans are super into the whole make a circle and have people show off in the middle, yep, me= champion.
Then last night was this festival called TamXarit (tam harit), which is the muslim new year. Basically all the kids dress up as opposites- girls as men, guys as girls) and go around playing drums and dancing for money, rice, or couscous at different houses (that’s sounds really bad I know). I was pretty much the money maker for my shock value, as a white person participating, and for my fabulous dance skills which everyone was amazed with (thank you previous night for giving me them).
missing driving- its so nice, fun, and freeing.
So I got home at 1:40am on Christmas eve (went to Sangalkam to visit Marcel and I‘s friends and at least see the church on Christmas eve (im not super religious, its just a family tradition to go to duke for midnight mass, so it was more of missing the family than anything religious. Marcel is my neighbor, fellow christian, and all around good guy that my parents trust), Rachel called me at 2:50 am, but I was lying awake in bed since I suck at sleeping, and then I talked to her for an hour and eventually fell asleep around 4:30am. Then after the party, I got home around 4 am (it took like half an hour to walk home), and fell asleep sometime after that, and was up until about 12ish last night writing stuff. So im pretty dang exhausted to say the least. But on the bright side it was all pretty fun, and it was something different and new and good. Got to talk to the family for like, an hour and a half on Christmas day, which made me super happy. Im having them freeze me peppermint bark chocolate because its basically beyond delicious and can be bought only during the holiday season (even though I make it as a chritmas preasent every year for people, but hey, its different). My host mother bought singing lights to put up in her ‘restaurant’, by singing it means notes that hare much higher than Alvin in the chipmunks, and there arent even words. Thank gosh she finally learned how to turn it down.
Okay, apologies for how everything jumps around. Loveeeeeeeee
Ananda
pictures of tamxarit to follow
Okay, well lets see. This week was pretty crazy. Went to Dakar on Monday with my host mother to get a pair of jeans that actually fits (the ones I brought are more like comfy bagginess, not exactly good for anything but lounging and such), and then ended up having to go back the next day at (woken up at 5:50 am, left at 6:30, got there at 9:25) to fill out visa forms for Gambia and get our visa pictures taken. All of us, except matt, went to this French restaurant/bakery for lunch and it was complete heaven. I had a three cheese quiche and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. I may have felt slightly sick from the richness of it all, but it was sick heaven. Then there was a bus ride from 2 to 6 to get back to my town (with no traffic, I think it would take about 30 min, maybbbbe).
So I was going to go to midnight mass on Christmas eve… and then my friend Marcel (christian) comes back, and says that the pastor either didn’t want to come, or couldn’t find transport… so mass was put off until 10am on Christmas day. Then comes a very catholic service, which I was surprised at simply because im used to a very non denominational service. And then there was the pastor. Well, first he made a joke about evolution and how god didn’t make an original fish that then turned into a man. Then there was the laugh at how Muslims believe in a prophet other than just Jesus (but they have the redeeming quality of asking for forgiveness for the new year). “for even though we Christians live love and peace, we need to remember that those are our values. Look at Rwanda. Its 94% Christian, yet they have had the genocide of the century”. Then there was something about a whitey and asian (Taiwan, made me laugh) when he said some stuff in Wolof. Finally, when I met him after the service, he hit on me and asked to go to America with me like every other Senegalise man. Yep, it was epic, and made me miss home quite a bit. At least it’s a good story though. Oh, and the chorus…they have a drum section.. Even the national service had a drum section for the chorus. Silent Night with added beats is just wrong.
Um, lets see, on Christmas day there was a ‘christian’ Christmas party over in sangalkam- first there was this choral concert, but like there was the African drumline, and then all the old fat ladies would bust out dancing once the beat hit. Then it was on to the dance, around 1 am, where I must say, I kill. I finally learnt the ridiculous Senegalese dance moves, and everyone was basically in awe that a toubab/whitey could dance. I probably dance with you know, at least a third of the people there. I decided to help Penda to convince Aida to let her come to the party with us, but shes really kina awkward,/ boringinsh, I thought sprining her from the coop would make her livelier, but sadly, not really at all. Africans are super into the whole make a circle and have people show off in the middle, yep, me= champion.
Then last night was this festival called TamXarit (tam harit), which is the muslim new year. Basically all the kids dress up as opposites- girls as men, guys as girls) and go around playing drums and dancing for money, rice, or couscous at different houses (that’s sounds really bad I know). I was pretty much the money maker for my shock value, as a white person participating, and for my fabulous dance skills which everyone was amazed with (thank you previous night for giving me them).
missing driving- its so nice, fun, and freeing.
So I got home at 1:40am on Christmas eve (went to Sangalkam to visit Marcel and I‘s friends and at least see the church on Christmas eve (im not super religious, its just a family tradition to go to duke for midnight mass, so it was more of missing the family than anything religious. Marcel is my neighbor, fellow christian, and all around good guy that my parents trust), Rachel called me at 2:50 am, but I was lying awake in bed since I suck at sleeping, and then I talked to her for an hour and eventually fell asleep around 4:30am. Then after the party, I got home around 4 am (it took like half an hour to walk home), and fell asleep sometime after that, and was up until about 12ish last night writing stuff. So im pretty dang exhausted to say the least. But on the bright side it was all pretty fun, and it was something different and new and good. Got to talk to the family for like, an hour and a half on Christmas day, which made me super happy. Im having them freeze me peppermint bark chocolate because its basically beyond delicious and can be bought only during the holiday season (even though I make it as a chritmas preasent every year for people, but hey, its different). My host mother bought singing lights to put up in her ‘restaurant’, by singing it means notes that hare much higher than Alvin in the chipmunks, and there arent even words. Thank gosh she finally learned how to turn it down.
Okay, apologies for how everything jumps around. Loveeeeeeeee
Ananda
pictures of tamxarit to follow
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas guys! Or kwanza or Hannukah or whatever you like really. Miss you all and hope everything goes/is going spectacular. Eat tons for me. Im starting to take down all the recipes so I can make them when i get back (only the ones i like of course, they do exist). Promise to take pictures on Christmas and New Years, and the day after Christmas, which i forgot the name of, but its basically cross dressing day and all the men go house to house in womens clothing singing and you give them money. That promises to be hilarious.love you all,
-Ananda
-Ananda
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Poverty's Design
There are many different scales by which to measure poverty: less than a dollar a day, being able to provide food, shelter, healthcare, emergency funds, stability, etc. Compared to many places in Senegal, my community is pretty well off in that the majority of the population can afford at least their food and house, which is either a gray concrete block or a thatched hut with some form of tin usually attached. When walking home from work, I have two views in front of me. On the right, there is the lush reserve where the different flora and fauna create a quilt of beauty. To my left though, is the plain and gaunt grey concrete wall that seems to never end – changing from wall to wall, house to house, and grey to grey to grey to grey. To be sure, this design is not representative of a culture which is full of so much character and color in every aspect of life. So here’s another face of poverty, shown by the simple fact that putting color into one’s life is almost always beyond ones means.
I promised...
Well its Sunday. Today I did some laundry and worked on this for the most part. Its love.
Well hey there. So it’s been going well, some ups and downs for sure, but at the end of each day I am pretty much always satisfied and happy. From the last post you can tell that my schedule will consist of much less poop scooping, which I am pretty dang excited about, as it involves a bit more intellectual work and tact. The time I spent at the village was useful though, no matter how menial it was at times. I came to see exactly how it worked, what things are going wrong and right, and found out that I am definitely not satisfied with what it gave me-which is why I worked with Rachel to figure out what else I could do. So last Saturday we had a weekly meeting about all of those things that I’m about to start, which should have been amazing right? But then Sunday came, and I was in the oddest apathetic mood. I felt like all the things I was scheduled to do were good in their own right, but that if you took them away I wouldn’t care that much. This thought spread to my host family and the friends I have made here-true, I really do enjoy some of the people, but I know that at this moment if you took them away, I wouldn’t be to terribly torn up. I pretty good now though, the apathy stopped around Wednesday. I guess it was just one of those moods/day(s). It really bothered me though, I mean there was no reason for me not to be extremely excited about everything, but I was just indifferent. Not caring about what I do in life is definitely a fear; dispassion is really not my thing.
So:
-I think we get to go on a day trip to the Gambia because ACI messed up something with our visas. I think we only get to have lunch while we are there, but hey, it’ll be a fun ride at least. Don’t worry no deporting or anything.
-I got a package from Mrs. Angell, and I am slowly enjoying gummy bears. Can we all just take a second and think about how absolutely Harabo Gummy bears are? Oh my gosh, they are made in Turkey too!!! Just like the cookies. Turkey has taken over all tasty things. We better not get in a war with them, that would be horrible.
-I taught my host father how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he loved it. (We always eat breakfast together in the mornings (miss you dad, don’t worry, it’s definitely not the same)). Whenever he has an egg sandwich with ketchup on it he says he is eating like an American. I stand by the fact that salsa is way better on scrambled eggs… and that eggs should not be deep fried.
-I may have already said this, but time is a very odd thing here. Each day, it’s very slow, up until after lunch. Then it all goes really fast, and I tend to learn more after 6pm. That day as a whole seems to fly when it’s over, and the weeks go even faster. It seems like every time I actually think about the date a half a month has gone by. I almost only have four months left, which is crazy to think about. Four months seems really really short, but also really long.
-Family update: I don’t completely hate the devil/gremlin child Muhammad anymore. I can actually find him cute sometimes… when he’s not punching me in the eye with a fist covered in milky millet. Yuck. Tomas and I are chill, except for when he was obsessed with trying to get me to buy him things, like pens. I told him that he can have my pens when I leave if they still work (don’t worry, Ill actually get him a pen if they run out). It took a good half an hour of him saying, but it’s only a pen, and me explaining that I’m not a bank to work that one out... Bali and Awa, while I can barely talk to them, are probably the people I most enjoy, simply because they have fun personalities and always joke around. Abdoulaye is slightly crazy at times (he loves to do the military marches), but kind of adorable as well. I hailed a diagne diage on the way back from my first visit to Lamine’s Library, and he was in the front seat coming back from school ( very low odds of that every happening as there are about a billion diagne diages), and he leaned out the window screaming and waving, pretty adorbs. I like Lamine in that he is smart, really nice to me, and can carry on intelligent conversations. But he always bad talks Beniot (my boss) to me, and really talks so much, even about how all the Senegalese do is talk, and then does about half of what he talks about. Sometimes during breakfast I do just not want to talk about how he thinks benoit is a stingy jerk (he really isn’t), I just want to have happy conversation, I mean it’s my favorite meal here! Penda just doesn’t really talk, and either does school work, or plays with Muhammed. I feel a bit bad for her that she has to help parent Muhammad so much. Okay, Aida. So she does have good qualities, as she can be nice to me mostlyish. But really, she’s off her rocker, even Rachel (professor) agrees with me (Rachel said that I could switch families if I wanted to, i.e. if Aida was too much to handle/to stressful, but I don’t want to because that I’m really not that stressed, just annoyed with her, and it would basically be like giving up, and hey, it’s just a good old Senegalese lesson in patience. Can I just restate the fact that I will definitely be one of the most patient people in America when I return?). Anyways, the money that is given to the families is supposed to cover the expenses of the student-the food, laundry, and board. Laundry has presented a difficulty in that it took two talking’s to by Rachel for her to get it (she said she thought I wanted to do my laundry for three hours at a time when I should have been at work), and I finally asked her when the family would be doing laundry this week (its Awa, the maid, not even the family), and she said whenever I want. So I said Wednesday, and she said Thursday, and I was like okay. Then it turned into Thursday night, and she finally took it on Friday to some lady… and she made me buy the soap, which I’m not supposed to do. And it’s just supposed to be done with the family. I just talked to Penda about what I was doing for Christmas (church on Christmas Eve, family stuff (crepes I think) in the morning, a partyish thing Christmas day at night in Sangalkam with Marcel (neighbor, Christian, don’t worry, Lamine and him are buddies, and he’s 25. He grows lettuce and tomatoes and sells chickens. Also, they have basil here, but it’s like, hybrid and tastes a bit like mint somehow. Not bad, but not completely basily either). Anyways, I asked her what she was doing, and she said eating and sleeping, like they do for most holidays (tabaski much?). Lamine says she can go out, but Aida doesn’t like it. So my plan is to spring her for New Years Eve when I hope to be going to Dakar with Awa and Fatim (Awa’s sister, not Awa the maid person, Awa the hilarious friend). Maybe if I ask she will actually get to go? So basically Aida is just a bit manipulative and selfish. I was going to Awa’s and she tried to guilt trip me and say that I’m always over there (not true, not even half the time, I’ve made sure that I don’t make my family feel that I don’t like them), and she tried to make me sit and stay. I laughed it off… and left. So overall, good family, jerky mother, but it’s all good.
-So I’ve slowly trying to figure out how educated everyone is about nutrition and such, in my family and with the community in general attached to that. So it seems that no one really cares about all the oil. And everyone eats rice more than couscous (even though it’s cheaper and way healthier); because if you eat couscous more than once in a week people will think that you are poor. As I now eat my tegga degga (peanut butter, just ground peanuts with their own oil, no additives, party) every morning with my bread, it’s shown as a healthy alternative to eating chocolate spread every day. I’ve got Mamour (boutique guy who sells bread, tegga degga, chocolate spread, everything) laughing at me because he thinks its nasty in comparison with the chocolate, but I even found Aida eating bread with tegga one night… and she likes it! So that is a step forward in the health department. And they probably think I’m a freak in that half the time when I say I like something, one of the reasons that I like it always includes “its good for the health.”
-I started a recipe page in my notebook for all the things that I think of while I’m here. As I think about food a freaking lot, I have come up with what will definitely be some promising recipes. Yeah, now I’m one of those food freak people. But hey, it’s gonna make for some great dinners people.
-the monthly meeting in Dakar was pretty much amazing. It was good food, really fun and interesting conversation (either we were all joking, or we would be in session with Rachel talking about different topics like poverty), everyone got along better that we had before, and I got to Skype even if it was for only a wee bit of time. I have videos from gore and such, but the internet always cuts off in the middle of the upload when I try and use the computer at the Village des Tortues, so maybe it will work eventually or I will have to wait till our next monthly meeting. Every morning (excluding the last because I was dead tired), Gaya and I woke up around 6:45 to go get the bread for breakfast from an actual bakery (which smelt like heaven, I have also decided that I want to work in a pastry shop/store, I think it would be fabulous, and a great skill.), so the baguettes we had actually had a real crust to them. We really don’t give crust enough credit, it’s basically half the bread in the goodness factor (in artisanal breads at least). I made apple pie and mashed potatoes for our thanksgiving dinner (a week or two late of course). Gaya made the crust for the pie. Of course it wasn’t the most amazing thing, but in the context of Senegal, it was pretty dang good. But the whole menu was basically fabulousness: chicken... And a representative turkey leg, mashed potatoes, green beans with garlic sautéed in olive oil, carrots with ginger and sugar (to sweet for me), sweet potatoes with butter and cinnamon sugar, bok choi like vegetable sautéed with salt and garlic, cornbread/cake like thing, and then the pie with vanilla ice cream. Oh, and a gravy that was a complete failure, but still tasted good. Not exactly the typical thanksgiving meal, but it was pretty amazing. Basically throughout the whole weekend everyone gorged themselves unconsciously (and consciously) because it was like food! Variety! Not oil? What is this? YUMMMM. Oh gosh, and I ate fish…. And I liked it. It was the first night we were at Rachel’s and she had made this vegetable curry fish dish, and I was mad hungry, and it smelled absolutely delicious, and I was like, hey, why not try it if I’ve already tried all the Senegalese fish dishes, it can’t be worse. It was just as tasty as the vegetables, and the best part was that it was only a small bit fishy, unlike the Senegalese fish which is like… concentrated fishsplosion all over all day every day. So yep, that’s a big step for me. Our sessions usually ended going until 1 or 2 in the morning, and we were always going going during the day (it was pretty fun I have to say, in the learning manner that is), so when we got back to our home stays everyone basically slept for a day or two.
-When I met with the director of the Sangalkam school his first questions were: are you married, how old are you, when are you coming to have lunch at my house. I know Senegal is super into its hospitality, but I do not know if I will ever get used to people regularly asking that line of questions. I think the unsettling part is knowing that polygamy is quite accepted here (as long as it’s less than 4 wives), and that everyone is on the lookout for a western wife. Then, about half way through the conversation after showing me math booklets that USAID had given the school; he said that Americans knew nothing about culture. For in comparison, the Senegalese know all 50 states of America. I said that that might possibly be a generalization based off a few people he has met or heard of. Benoit says that I handled it well (he was there too), but I definitely talked the fastest French of my whole life, which was actually pretty surprising. So I have minor anger management issues, not after Senegal (jokes, please don’t sent me to anger management counseling).
-People back home, letters I get, and songs/things that make me remember them take up probably about half of the space in my diary, bunches of letter writing times, and a large majority of my day/night dreams. For a while I was worried that I was preoccupied with missing things too much, but really I’m not, and that’s part of the experience anyways.
-I finished Brave New World-pretty great book, and really, Shakespeare & Hamlet now keep randomly going through my head. To sleep, but to dream…..rank as an un-weeded garden. Thank you senior year English class.
-Skype is amazing. Really, it is. Either people can call me on my Senegalese phone through it… or I can call them when I have it, or see them when we are both online (in Dakar obviously for the latter). Also, I got to talk to Laura Keaton, one of the Guatemalan fellows yesterday on face book chat. How crazy is that? Among many more important and intellectual things, we talked about how where we’re going to be eating till we can’t move when we get back… Lily’s lattes (okay that’s not eating, so what), delicious life in general. I also can’t believe that I don’t get to make my peppermint bark chocolate this Christmas, sad life.
-For awhile I thought that I had lost all the muscles on my shoulders and around my neck…. Then I realized that I just didn’t have the inches of knots that usually exist there. You know senior year was stressful when you begin to think that the extreme knottiness was normal, and that when it’s gone you worry.
-As for health issues, I’m good in general. Lots of hair falling out (which happens to Rachel too), but either way she’s going to pick me up some calcium when she goes back to the states this week (returning on New Year’s, it’s mostly because of the visa thing, and the holidays). Don’t worry, I take my multivitamin every night, alarm at 8 o clock (way before dinner).The doctor lady also said it could be due to stress, and I don’t think I’m stressed really, but it could be unconscious, so I’m supposed to look out for that. Also had a minor freak out when I was thinking how doxycyline makes the skin sensitive to the sun and how that might last forever (scary), but the doctor also said that that’s not something to worry about and that doxy doesn’t cause long term sensitivity. So I figure I’ll wait it out a bit before deciding to switch medications or not. Depends on if the tiredness I’m feeling is actually one of the side effects of doxy, or if I’m just doing more than I think I am. Also, I started doing yoga before lunch. I like running here; it’s just really quite dangerous with the crazy roads/drivers/potholes and such. Also, I’ve decided that I’m running in the Turkey Trot next thanksgiving, oh yeah its gonna be sweet.
-Started to read Harry Potter in French, which is fun.
-The clothes that I have here will definitely be at least a size larger by the time I get back due to the hand washing. On the upside, I am definitely going to have a couple amazingly soft shirts… and the rest of the clothes will probably either be left here, or given away due to their not rightness.
-I’ve started playing hacky sack in my room, because juggling with a ball would probably be too destructive. I miss green grass fields a wholeeeee lot. There will definitely be some major time being spent at SAS and WRAL upon my return.
Well I gota go, but I’ll try to at least get another blog up after Christmas/New Years. Missing you all,
With Love,
Ananda
Well hey there. So it’s been going well, some ups and downs for sure, but at the end of each day I am pretty much always satisfied and happy. From the last post you can tell that my schedule will consist of much less poop scooping, which I am pretty dang excited about, as it involves a bit more intellectual work and tact. The time I spent at the village was useful though, no matter how menial it was at times. I came to see exactly how it worked, what things are going wrong and right, and found out that I am definitely not satisfied with what it gave me-which is why I worked with Rachel to figure out what else I could do. So last Saturday we had a weekly meeting about all of those things that I’m about to start, which should have been amazing right? But then Sunday came, and I was in the oddest apathetic mood. I felt like all the things I was scheduled to do were good in their own right, but that if you took them away I wouldn’t care that much. This thought spread to my host family and the friends I have made here-true, I really do enjoy some of the people, but I know that at this moment if you took them away, I wouldn’t be to terribly torn up. I pretty good now though, the apathy stopped around Wednesday. I guess it was just one of those moods/day(s). It really bothered me though, I mean there was no reason for me not to be extremely excited about everything, but I was just indifferent. Not caring about what I do in life is definitely a fear; dispassion is really not my thing.
So:
-I think we get to go on a day trip to the Gambia because ACI messed up something with our visas. I think we only get to have lunch while we are there, but hey, it’ll be a fun ride at least. Don’t worry no deporting or anything.
-I got a package from Mrs. Angell, and I am slowly enjoying gummy bears. Can we all just take a second and think about how absolutely Harabo Gummy bears are? Oh my gosh, they are made in Turkey too!!! Just like the cookies. Turkey has taken over all tasty things. We better not get in a war with them, that would be horrible.
-I taught my host father how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he loved it. (We always eat breakfast together in the mornings (miss you dad, don’t worry, it’s definitely not the same)). Whenever he has an egg sandwich with ketchup on it he says he is eating like an American. I stand by the fact that salsa is way better on scrambled eggs… and that eggs should not be deep fried.
-I may have already said this, but time is a very odd thing here. Each day, it’s very slow, up until after lunch. Then it all goes really fast, and I tend to learn more after 6pm. That day as a whole seems to fly when it’s over, and the weeks go even faster. It seems like every time I actually think about the date a half a month has gone by. I almost only have four months left, which is crazy to think about. Four months seems really really short, but also really long.
-Family update: I don’t completely hate the devil/gremlin child Muhammad anymore. I can actually find him cute sometimes… when he’s not punching me in the eye with a fist covered in milky millet. Yuck. Tomas and I are chill, except for when he was obsessed with trying to get me to buy him things, like pens. I told him that he can have my pens when I leave if they still work (don’t worry, Ill actually get him a pen if they run out). It took a good half an hour of him saying, but it’s only a pen, and me explaining that I’m not a bank to work that one out... Bali and Awa, while I can barely talk to them, are probably the people I most enjoy, simply because they have fun personalities and always joke around. Abdoulaye is slightly crazy at times (he loves to do the military marches), but kind of adorable as well. I hailed a diagne diage on the way back from my first visit to Lamine’s Library, and he was in the front seat coming back from school ( very low odds of that every happening as there are about a billion diagne diages), and he leaned out the window screaming and waving, pretty adorbs. I like Lamine in that he is smart, really nice to me, and can carry on intelligent conversations. But he always bad talks Beniot (my boss) to me, and really talks so much, even about how all the Senegalese do is talk, and then does about half of what he talks about. Sometimes during breakfast I do just not want to talk about how he thinks benoit is a stingy jerk (he really isn’t), I just want to have happy conversation, I mean it’s my favorite meal here! Penda just doesn’t really talk, and either does school work, or plays with Muhammed. I feel a bit bad for her that she has to help parent Muhammad so much. Okay, Aida. So she does have good qualities, as she can be nice to me mostlyish. But really, she’s off her rocker, even Rachel (professor) agrees with me (Rachel said that I could switch families if I wanted to, i.e. if Aida was too much to handle/to stressful, but I don’t want to because that I’m really not that stressed, just annoyed with her, and it would basically be like giving up, and hey, it’s just a good old Senegalese lesson in patience. Can I just restate the fact that I will definitely be one of the most patient people in America when I return?). Anyways, the money that is given to the families is supposed to cover the expenses of the student-the food, laundry, and board. Laundry has presented a difficulty in that it took two talking’s to by Rachel for her to get it (she said she thought I wanted to do my laundry for three hours at a time when I should have been at work), and I finally asked her when the family would be doing laundry this week (its Awa, the maid, not even the family), and she said whenever I want. So I said Wednesday, and she said Thursday, and I was like okay. Then it turned into Thursday night, and she finally took it on Friday to some lady… and she made me buy the soap, which I’m not supposed to do. And it’s just supposed to be done with the family. I just talked to Penda about what I was doing for Christmas (church on Christmas Eve, family stuff (crepes I think) in the morning, a partyish thing Christmas day at night in Sangalkam with Marcel (neighbor, Christian, don’t worry, Lamine and him are buddies, and he’s 25. He grows lettuce and tomatoes and sells chickens. Also, they have basil here, but it’s like, hybrid and tastes a bit like mint somehow. Not bad, but not completely basily either). Anyways, I asked her what she was doing, and she said eating and sleeping, like they do for most holidays (tabaski much?). Lamine says she can go out, but Aida doesn’t like it. So my plan is to spring her for New Years Eve when I hope to be going to Dakar with Awa and Fatim (Awa’s sister, not Awa the maid person, Awa the hilarious friend). Maybe if I ask she will actually get to go? So basically Aida is just a bit manipulative and selfish. I was going to Awa’s and she tried to guilt trip me and say that I’m always over there (not true, not even half the time, I’ve made sure that I don’t make my family feel that I don’t like them), and she tried to make me sit and stay. I laughed it off… and left. So overall, good family, jerky mother, but it’s all good.
-So I’ve slowly trying to figure out how educated everyone is about nutrition and such, in my family and with the community in general attached to that. So it seems that no one really cares about all the oil. And everyone eats rice more than couscous (even though it’s cheaper and way healthier); because if you eat couscous more than once in a week people will think that you are poor. As I now eat my tegga degga (peanut butter, just ground peanuts with their own oil, no additives, party) every morning with my bread, it’s shown as a healthy alternative to eating chocolate spread every day. I’ve got Mamour (boutique guy who sells bread, tegga degga, chocolate spread, everything) laughing at me because he thinks its nasty in comparison with the chocolate, but I even found Aida eating bread with tegga one night… and she likes it! So that is a step forward in the health department. And they probably think I’m a freak in that half the time when I say I like something, one of the reasons that I like it always includes “its good for the health.”
-I started a recipe page in my notebook for all the things that I think of while I’m here. As I think about food a freaking lot, I have come up with what will definitely be some promising recipes. Yeah, now I’m one of those food freak people. But hey, it’s gonna make for some great dinners people.
-the monthly meeting in Dakar was pretty much amazing. It was good food, really fun and interesting conversation (either we were all joking, or we would be in session with Rachel talking about different topics like poverty), everyone got along better that we had before, and I got to Skype even if it was for only a wee bit of time. I have videos from gore and such, but the internet always cuts off in the middle of the upload when I try and use the computer at the Village des Tortues, so maybe it will work eventually or I will have to wait till our next monthly meeting. Every morning (excluding the last because I was dead tired), Gaya and I woke up around 6:45 to go get the bread for breakfast from an actual bakery (which smelt like heaven, I have also decided that I want to work in a pastry shop/store, I think it would be fabulous, and a great skill.), so the baguettes we had actually had a real crust to them. We really don’t give crust enough credit, it’s basically half the bread in the goodness factor (in artisanal breads at least). I made apple pie and mashed potatoes for our thanksgiving dinner (a week or two late of course). Gaya made the crust for the pie. Of course it wasn’t the most amazing thing, but in the context of Senegal, it was pretty dang good. But the whole menu was basically fabulousness: chicken... And a representative turkey leg, mashed potatoes, green beans with garlic sautéed in olive oil, carrots with ginger and sugar (to sweet for me), sweet potatoes with butter and cinnamon sugar, bok choi like vegetable sautéed with salt and garlic, cornbread/cake like thing, and then the pie with vanilla ice cream. Oh, and a gravy that was a complete failure, but still tasted good. Not exactly the typical thanksgiving meal, but it was pretty amazing. Basically throughout the whole weekend everyone gorged themselves unconsciously (and consciously) because it was like food! Variety! Not oil? What is this? YUMMMM. Oh gosh, and I ate fish…. And I liked it. It was the first night we were at Rachel’s and she had made this vegetable curry fish dish, and I was mad hungry, and it smelled absolutely delicious, and I was like, hey, why not try it if I’ve already tried all the Senegalese fish dishes, it can’t be worse. It was just as tasty as the vegetables, and the best part was that it was only a small bit fishy, unlike the Senegalese fish which is like… concentrated fishsplosion all over all day every day. So yep, that’s a big step for me. Our sessions usually ended going until 1 or 2 in the morning, and we were always going going during the day (it was pretty fun I have to say, in the learning manner that is), so when we got back to our home stays everyone basically slept for a day or two.
-When I met with the director of the Sangalkam school his first questions were: are you married, how old are you, when are you coming to have lunch at my house. I know Senegal is super into its hospitality, but I do not know if I will ever get used to people regularly asking that line of questions. I think the unsettling part is knowing that polygamy is quite accepted here (as long as it’s less than 4 wives), and that everyone is on the lookout for a western wife. Then, about half way through the conversation after showing me math booklets that USAID had given the school; he said that Americans knew nothing about culture. For in comparison, the Senegalese know all 50 states of America. I said that that might possibly be a generalization based off a few people he has met or heard of. Benoit says that I handled it well (he was there too), but I definitely talked the fastest French of my whole life, which was actually pretty surprising. So I have minor anger management issues, not after Senegal (jokes, please don’t sent me to anger management counseling).
-People back home, letters I get, and songs/things that make me remember them take up probably about half of the space in my diary, bunches of letter writing times, and a large majority of my day/night dreams. For a while I was worried that I was preoccupied with missing things too much, but really I’m not, and that’s part of the experience anyways.
-I finished Brave New World-pretty great book, and really, Shakespeare & Hamlet now keep randomly going through my head. To sleep, but to dream…..rank as an un-weeded garden. Thank you senior year English class.
-Skype is amazing. Really, it is. Either people can call me on my Senegalese phone through it… or I can call them when I have it, or see them when we are both online (in Dakar obviously for the latter). Also, I got to talk to Laura Keaton, one of the Guatemalan fellows yesterday on face book chat. How crazy is that? Among many more important and intellectual things, we talked about how where we’re going to be eating till we can’t move when we get back… Lily’s lattes (okay that’s not eating, so what), delicious life in general. I also can’t believe that I don’t get to make my peppermint bark chocolate this Christmas, sad life.
-For awhile I thought that I had lost all the muscles on my shoulders and around my neck…. Then I realized that I just didn’t have the inches of knots that usually exist there. You know senior year was stressful when you begin to think that the extreme knottiness was normal, and that when it’s gone you worry.
-As for health issues, I’m good in general. Lots of hair falling out (which happens to Rachel too), but either way she’s going to pick me up some calcium when she goes back to the states this week (returning on New Year’s, it’s mostly because of the visa thing, and the holidays). Don’t worry, I take my multivitamin every night, alarm at 8 o clock (way before dinner).The doctor lady also said it could be due to stress, and I don’t think I’m stressed really, but it could be unconscious, so I’m supposed to look out for that. Also had a minor freak out when I was thinking how doxycyline makes the skin sensitive to the sun and how that might last forever (scary), but the doctor also said that that’s not something to worry about and that doxy doesn’t cause long term sensitivity. So I figure I’ll wait it out a bit before deciding to switch medications or not. Depends on if the tiredness I’m feeling is actually one of the side effects of doxy, or if I’m just doing more than I think I am. Also, I started doing yoga before lunch. I like running here; it’s just really quite dangerous with the crazy roads/drivers/potholes and such. Also, I’ve decided that I’m running in the Turkey Trot next thanksgiving, oh yeah its gonna be sweet.
-Started to read Harry Potter in French, which is fun.
-The clothes that I have here will definitely be at least a size larger by the time I get back due to the hand washing. On the upside, I am definitely going to have a couple amazingly soft shirts… and the rest of the clothes will probably either be left here, or given away due to their not rightness.
-I’ve started playing hacky sack in my room, because juggling with a ball would probably be too destructive. I miss green grass fields a wholeeeee lot. There will definitely be some major time being spent at SAS and WRAL upon my return.
Well I gota go, but I’ll try to at least get another blog up after Christmas/New Years. Missing you all,
With Love,
Ananda
Current TV Blog
Hey guys, so Current TV is doing a blog about/with GCY fellows, which is pretty dang cool. So heres the link, and below is the blog that will be appearing on it.
http://blogs.current.com/news/2009/12/14/global-citizen-year/
Home’s a pretty big deal to me, its where I feel safe and comfortable, where all my roots are, where I go to relax, breathe, and just be. From what I can tell my new home here in Senegal, which I will be staying in for six months, is just a tad bit different. First, it’s all hustle and bustle. Eleven children (of which three pairs share the same name) divided between two sets of parents in the two parts of the house, a restaurant to run, relatives and friends always coming and going, and cooking and dishes are forever being done. Not quite the same ambiance as my Dad, cat, and I. Then there is the hierarchy that exists. Bali and Awa clean and cook for the house and restaurant, only the women do any chores, older people get more food and respect, and then there’s the fact that while they think of me as part of the family, I’m still separate from it. Growing up with two brothers and a sister, we all did our equal share of chores, whether it was vacuuming or the dishes. When eating, we were given equal shares of food which were not divided by age or sex. This difference in hierarchy has led me to feel as if I’m playing politics at home, for everything I do has a different significance and every American expectation of equality is out of place. Along that line, independence is a very different thing here. No matter what I do, be it going to the bathroom or work, I am always asked what I’m doing, for permission must be granted to do almost anything (not going to the bathroom, thank you very much). Back in America I have a freedom to go almost anywhere, and a Dad who just wants to know if I’m okay, not what I plan to do after showering. All at once I am the most independent that I have ever been, far, far away from everything that I know, and yet the most dependent as I have rules and expectations from a family and culture that are foreign to me. True, I probably couldn’t imagine a more different home. Nevertheless, I still eat breakfast with my ‘dad’ here, enjoy helping to cook, do my own laundry (it just takes a bit more work here), and have the sanctuary of reading (as I am lucky enough to have my own room). Being here for almost two months, I know that I’m not at home yet. It is possible though, so I’m looking forward to having over four months to find out.
http://blogs.current.com/news/2009/12/14/global-citizen-year/
Home’s a pretty big deal to me, its where I feel safe and comfortable, where all my roots are, where I go to relax, breathe, and just be. From what I can tell my new home here in Senegal, which I will be staying in for six months, is just a tad bit different. First, it’s all hustle and bustle. Eleven children (of which three pairs share the same name) divided between two sets of parents in the two parts of the house, a restaurant to run, relatives and friends always coming and going, and cooking and dishes are forever being done. Not quite the same ambiance as my Dad, cat, and I. Then there is the hierarchy that exists. Bali and Awa clean and cook for the house and restaurant, only the women do any chores, older people get more food and respect, and then there’s the fact that while they think of me as part of the family, I’m still separate from it. Growing up with two brothers and a sister, we all did our equal share of chores, whether it was vacuuming or the dishes. When eating, we were given equal shares of food which were not divided by age or sex. This difference in hierarchy has led me to feel as if I’m playing politics at home, for everything I do has a different significance and every American expectation of equality is out of place. Along that line, independence is a very different thing here. No matter what I do, be it going to the bathroom or work, I am always asked what I’m doing, for permission must be granted to do almost anything (not going to the bathroom, thank you very much). Back in America I have a freedom to go almost anywhere, and a Dad who just wants to know if I’m okay, not what I plan to do after showering. All at once I am the most independent that I have ever been, far, far away from everything that I know, and yet the most dependent as I have rules and expectations from a family and culture that are foreign to me. True, I probably couldn’t imagine a more different home. Nevertheless, I still eat breakfast with my ‘dad’ here, enjoy helping to cook, do my own laundry (it just takes a bit more work here), and have the sanctuary of reading (as I am lucky enough to have my own room). Being here for almost two months, I know that I’m not at home yet. It is possible though, so I’m looking forward to having over four months to find out.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Pictures and new schedule!!
So a quick update of what ive been working on to make my week consist of ( note, the study and rufisque english club begin after christmas). Hope to get a good post up on sunday.
once a week i have french/wolof classes at matts house with his host father
then ill be helping with an english club in sangalkam at a school once a week
then one in rufisaque with this canadian ngo
im doing a study in my town about the imact of the village of tortues, and then seeing peoples view about the environment in general so that i can apply it to senegeal, africa, and developing nations in general
a project to grow trees for noflaye and the people in it, and hopefully getting the children involved so that it interests them in the environment and becomes sustainable
teaching the Bali and Awa ( in the picture above, awa has curly hair, this is the one who does the housework) french
tutorng my little brother Tomas in english and french when he gets home
turtoring my mentors little sister person in reading french
oh and working at thsi libraary that my host father started that is like a preschool in the morning, adn like a study/ game place for older kids in the afternoon
Hope to get a good one up on Sunday, Love you all,
Ananda
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Day of Sacrifice.... Litterally
Well to say the least, chickens are no big deal. I mean really, they are small, equivalent to a soccer ball. You could even kick them if you really wanted to. Rams are really not small, and I’m sure that if you kicked one, that it would kick you back, with sure damage being done. This past Tabaski was a day of Senegalese food and fashion immersion. The day started out with the peeling of about four kilos each of onions and potatoes. Peeler blister and onion tears: check. Be proud though, I only started crying after onion kilo 2.5. My little brother Thomas then dragged me to the other side of the building so that I could join in on the Ram Fest 09’. I had the pleasure of coming in just as they were slitting Ram #2’s throat : three full grown men holding the ram to the ground with its neck opening up to the earth as its life flowed from it. I promise I only jumped around and freaked out for a couple of minutes. Taking back up my butcher title, I was allowed to skin the hind leg. The trick is to get the knife to find the line between the thin layer of fat, and the lean muscle. I think I actually did pretty well as my host father was particularly impressed with the fact that my leg was cut better than the ones not done by me. That is where my skinning ended though, as they slung up the ram on the wall in order to let the blood drain out as they hacked off bits and pieces with a machete. After a brief period of washing my hands, I moved on to cleaning and separating the hacked chunks of ribs, shanks, and other mystery meats. This lasted a couple of hours, as you much imagine that a full grown ram consists of quite a lot of meat. Fast forward to nighttime when I go to put on my fabulous boubou, or traditional Senegalese outfit. With bright green with gold embroidery shirt, paine (like a skirt), and foulard (a head wrap), matching luminescent green eye shadow that I never knew existed, cornrows intact, and henna on the hands, I was a sight to be seen. All around me there were exclamations of “rafet na trop!”, basically “Its really pretty!.” I stand by the fact that I looked like a jolly green octopus, and possibly even more out of place than usual. The night began with a traipsing around the village visiting different families, and ended at my friend Awa’s house with legitimate dance lessons. Beginning my day as a butcher, I finally transformed into the jolly green octopus that dances. There was no thing that was more important than another, just a totality of a complete experience… and knowledge that I helped kill my universities mascot of course.
You know your in Senegal when…
Dont worry, I promise a legitimatish post soon. sorry its been so long. Really, it seems like so little gets done here, yet your always busy, even if being busy entails waiting for hours on end. Oh well, here ya go.
The closest thing you get to snow is hundreds of small white butterflies flying across the road
More of those butterflies use intersections to cross than people do
Every single meal takes a couple of hours to cook… and contains at least a liter of oil
You start to only care about mosquitoes being in your room. Crickets, salamanders, spiders, roaches, flies, and everything else seem to matter much less.
The crickets are black… and freaking massive. They also never die. Seriously, they are pretty much indestructible. Only a firm shoe, not a flip flop, can terminate them.
People invest in sheep and construction, not stocks.
Shop talk is of those sheep, not the local sports or politics.
The soap operas are way worse than anything you can imagine. Half of the 30 minute period is literally taken up by ‘shoom, shoom, shoom,’ close-ups. Search Vidaye
If done, giving to the poor must be done strategically. First, food is best, because you never know where the money goes. When giving leftovers, you must then make sure that they do not know where you live in order to avoid masses outside of your house. Note: this applies almost exclusively to toubabs.
It is still easier to find bilingual people than in America… even if the other language is only spoken in a couple square miles of the world.
Doing your laundry draws a crowd… and makes your hands raw
At the sight of food variety an ingrained instinct to scarf takes over. No, there is no hope, only the thought of whether the next cookie will make you throw up or pop. Either way, one eats the cookie.
Having the fashion sense of a teletubbie is prime. Monotone is in, and you can never forget to match your eye shadow/liner to your outfit. Now that would be a tragedy.
Things get steadily less gross… skinning chickens, skinning lambs….fat mothers breastfeeding in front of company….finding out that most people really aren’t fat. I have a tally of six slightly overweight men so far. Women do get bigger as they get older, but only to the point of fabulous jaiefunday.
Its funny that my goal in life is not: to have a jaiefunday, to get married around the age of 18, to find a Senegalese man, to find the most ways to get out of my work, and is not to win a gossip championship (which applies to about half of everyone).
When random strangers try to pay for everything you are doing (from buying fruit to taking the bus) because this is the country of Taranga, or hospitality. Exhibit A. On the way to Dakar I met a man who worked in the airport. We were talking, and while I was looking out the window, he paid for me without me noticing. After about twenty minutes of trying to pay him back, and him not letting me, I gave him my grapefruit, which was worth roughly the same amount, and he barely let me give him that.
People tend to adjust their clothes outside of a bathroom more often than inside of one.
Half of one shopping can be done from your car/bus window as you wait in traffic and vendors walk past with good either on their heads or hanging off of wires. I really think it would be easy to steal a banana off of one of the ladies heads as the bus drives off, hypothetically of course.
You make mashed potatoes… and then mash them with a fork.
You jump onto your public transport while it is still in motion, just as you leave your transport while it is still in motion
The closest thing you get to snow is hundreds of small white butterflies flying across the road
More of those butterflies use intersections to cross than people do
Every single meal takes a couple of hours to cook… and contains at least a liter of oil
You start to only care about mosquitoes being in your room. Crickets, salamanders, spiders, roaches, flies, and everything else seem to matter much less.
The crickets are black… and freaking massive. They also never die. Seriously, they are pretty much indestructible. Only a firm shoe, not a flip flop, can terminate them.
People invest in sheep and construction, not stocks.
Shop talk is of those sheep, not the local sports or politics.
The soap operas are way worse than anything you can imagine. Half of the 30 minute period is literally taken up by ‘shoom, shoom, shoom,’ close-ups. Search Vidaye
If done, giving to the poor must be done strategically. First, food is best, because you never know where the money goes. When giving leftovers, you must then make sure that they do not know where you live in order to avoid masses outside of your house. Note: this applies almost exclusively to toubabs.
It is still easier to find bilingual people than in America… even if the other language is only spoken in a couple square miles of the world.
Doing your laundry draws a crowd… and makes your hands raw
At the sight of food variety an ingrained instinct to scarf takes over. No, there is no hope, only the thought of whether the next cookie will make you throw up or pop. Either way, one eats the cookie.
Having the fashion sense of a teletubbie is prime. Monotone is in, and you can never forget to match your eye shadow/liner to your outfit. Now that would be a tragedy.
Things get steadily less gross… skinning chickens, skinning lambs….fat mothers breastfeeding in front of company….finding out that most people really aren’t fat. I have a tally of six slightly overweight men so far. Women do get bigger as they get older, but only to the point of fabulous jaiefunday.
Its funny that my goal in life is not: to have a jaiefunday, to get married around the age of 18, to find a Senegalese man, to find the most ways to get out of my work, and is not to win a gossip championship (which applies to about half of everyone).
When random strangers try to pay for everything you are doing (from buying fruit to taking the bus) because this is the country of Taranga, or hospitality. Exhibit A. On the way to Dakar I met a man who worked in the airport. We were talking, and while I was looking out the window, he paid for me without me noticing. After about twenty minutes of trying to pay him back, and him not letting me, I gave him my grapefruit, which was worth roughly the same amount, and he barely let me give him that.
People tend to adjust their clothes outside of a bathroom more often than inside of one.
Half of one shopping can be done from your car/bus window as you wait in traffic and vendors walk past with good either on their heads or hanging off of wires. I really think it would be easy to steal a banana off of one of the ladies heads as the bus drives off, hypothetically of course.
You make mashed potatoes… and then mash them with a fork.
You jump onto your public transport while it is still in motion, just as you leave your transport while it is still in motion
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