Sad news

written Thursday, 24 May 2007

 

 

My (real American) brother called me yesterday morning to tell me that my grandpa passed away on Sunday, and the funeral was yesterday (Wednesday).

 

The news wasn't unexpected, but it is hard to be so far away from family and missing out on an important event like this.

 

I told my village family at breakfast what had happened, but instead of comforting me, they just kept telling me to stop crying, that this is part of life and you must accept it.   (I had heard that you are not supposed to cry at funerals here, but I didn't know they would try to enforce that rule on me, for my own family members).   I wasn't in the mood to be trying to adapt culturally right then, so I just told them I was going to Tamba so I could be in touch with my family.

 

I rode my bike about 40 km to Missira, a bigger town where another volunteer lives, and ate bean sandwiches and spent the hottest part of the day resting in his hut.   Then we went to the road and waited for an Alham bus, which I rode for the first time by myself.  It was really easy - we just waved it down, they tossed my bike on top, and I squeezed in.   The price was fixed - 500 CFA (about $1) for the ride to Tamba, plus another 200 CFA for my bike.

 

In Tamba I came straight to the Peace Corps regional house, where I am trying to relax with some other volunteers who are here and trying not to be mad at my villagers for the way they responded to my news.

 

Please send good thoughts to my mom and the rest of our family.

Village School

written Tuesday, 22 May 2007

 

 

I was invited to go to the village school this morning to observe, so I went for about three hours and sat in on a class.   The school is a two-room concrete building with a metal roof (it gets hot in there!).  There are two classes, one for kids about 7-10 years old, and one for kids about 10-14 years old.  Normally there are two teachers, one for each class, but apparently one of the teachers has been sick for several months, so right now the other teacher is teaching both classes, giving one class an assignment to work on while he goes to the other class.

 

I sat in on the older kids' class, where they were learning French and algebra.  The kids had one textbook to read from (I think it was for French), but mainly the teacher wrote questions and problem on the chalkboard for the kids to copy down and work on.

 

I asked the teacher if the students learn other subjects as well, such as history and science, and he said yes, but I got the feeling that the answer is really no, or at least that there is not much emphasis put on those subjects.

 

But it seems that Western education isn't valued very much here.  Most kids go to primary school, but most girls drop out in their early teens to help out at home or to get married, and boys only go for a few years longer.   I tried asking one of my brothers, who is about 13, what he wants to be when he grows up, but he just answered as all the men and boys I've talked to here have - he wants to go to America.  I tried asking him what sort of job he would want to do if he could go to America, or what he will do if he can't make it to the US, but he didn't have any answers.   I think that is a big problem herer - everyone wants to emigrate, and no one has a backup plan (besides subsistence farming).

Boundaries

written Monday, 21 May 2007

 

 

Peace Corps advised us to set our boundaries with villagers (such as not letting people into our huts, which was recommended for a variety of security reasons) early, because it is easier to set rules at the beginning than to try to change them later on.   This is easier said than done, though, when you are just meeting people and trying to make a good impression and be culturally sensitive.

 

So the first night here, because I didn't want to seem unfriendly by saying no, I ended up with a kid sleeping in my bed with me, and her whole family supervising us going to bed. (I had to go to bed right then, while they were watching.   I didn't even get to brush my teeth!)

 

I wrote earlier about how hard it has been for me not getting any time to myself during the day to take a break from trying to be super friendly and culturally sensitive and trying to communicate in a language I barely know.   I think my daytime schedule will get better naturally as time goes on, as I become less of a novelty/special guest and become more comfortable living here.   But I decided that having people sleeping with me is where I'm going to have to put my foot down, because I just won't be able to survive here if I can't at least have some time alone at night.

 

My host sister, who is about my age, has been hinting or even outright asking for the last few nights if she could sleep with me (probably because there I have a nice mattress and there would be just the two of us sleeping on it, instead of six people), and I had been avoiding it by pretending not to understand what she was saying and waiting til she wasn't around for a few minutes to go back to my hut and go to bed.  

 

Last night at dinner she asked again if she could sleep with me, and I decided that I would just have to deal with it directly, because I don't want to be stressing about how to avoid this for the next two years.   So when she asked me this time, I just flat-out said no.  She said, "what? you said no?" like she couldn't believe it, or I must not have understood the question.   But I stuck to my decision and said, "That's right, I said no.  I like to sleep alone."  My other sister said "good for you", and then the subject was dropped, and I was able to go to bed in peace.

 

So I feel proud of myself for setting one boundary at least, and it turned out not to be so hard to say no after all.   Now I just have to figure out how to regain some control over the rest of my life....

Banana Plantation

written Monday, 21 May 2007

 

 

There is a banana plantation about a kilometer from my village, where many of the village men work.  It also attracts migrant workers from all over Senegal and neighboring countries.  One of my little brothers took me to visit it yesterday, and then after we got back I went to ask one of the village men some questions about it.

 

Here is what I learned:

 

The people who work in the plantatiion are paid 35% of the selling price of every ton of bananas that comes out of their plot on the plantation (the area they are responsible for planing, watering, picking, etc.).   The other 65% of the profits go to the owner, who has to cover costs like fuel for the irrigation pumps.  Before harvest time comes, the owner advances or loans money out of the expected sales to the workers, so that they have income throughout the year so they can buy food, etc.   Then at harvest time when the bananas are sold the workers are paid the remainder of their share of the profits, which the man I was talking to said would usually be several hundred dollars, which is quite a lot of money in this part of the world.

 

The bananas are sold to middlemen, who re-sell them throughout Senegal and neighboring countries such as The Gambia, Guinea, and Mali.

 

The bananas are about half the size of normal American bananas, and when they are ripe their skins are green and starting to turn black.   They aren't as sweet as American bananas, but they still make a good snack eaten raw.  My family has also cut them up and fried them a few times (and last night added them to a sort of macaroni salad, which was reeally good); when they're cooked, they somehow transform into tasting like potatoes, which is weird but good.

Space

written Sunday, 20 May 2007

 

 

The hardest thing about living here, for me, is the lack of privacy and space.  Before moving to the village, Peace Corps warned us that wee might have a hard time finding things to do with our time at first, and they advised us to avoid spending too much time alone in our huts, reading or whatever.   So I had mentally prepared myself for having lots of free time to fill and to force myself to go out of my hut and be social.  So I wasn't prepared at all for having no time for myself and no privacy.

 

From breakfast at 7:00 am until bedtime I am with my family or my counterpart or surrounded by kids who are fascinated by the new toubab.   If I make an excuse to go back to my hut (I need to get water/go to the bathroom/take a nap/etc.), usually less than ten minutes go by before someone, or more likely ten people, come over to see what I'm up to or to look at my toubab stuff or to just hang out.

 

I am glad that the people here have been so friendly and welcoming and looking out for me, but it is stressful not getting any time to myself or being able to make my own schedule.   I hope I can get used to never being alone, or else that the villagers get used to me being here and don't feel the need to peek in my windows at all hours of the day (or just walk straight into my hut) to see what I'm up to.   Otherwise, I'm just not sure how I'll survive here.

Rain

written Sunday, 20 May 2007

 

 

Last night was thet first rain of the rainy season, which officially begins in June and lasts til October.   I had teh idea before I came here that during the rainy season it would be pouring buckets all the time, but as it turns out, rainy season is just the time of year when it rains occasionally, compared to the rest of the year when it doesn't rain at all.

 

It was windy and lightning for quite a while before it started raining, so I had time to bring my mattress in from outside.   I was lazy and didn't bring in my mosquito net though, so now it is soaked.  I am leaving it hanging up for now, hoping that the sun will come out and dry it.   I also forgot about my toilet paper last night, which was sitting on the fence around my latrine, so now it is ruined and I will have to use the bathroom African-style, using a cup of water to rinse off with.

 

I had gotten quite used to not having to think about the weather, leaving things outside overnight or making plans without thinking about what the weather might be like, but I guess I'll have to start thinking about the possibility of rain now.

Beans!

written Sunday, 20 May 2007

 

 

I spoke too soon about eating the same thing every day.  Last night there were beans in the sauce with the millet.   Such a treat!

 

There is a stigma against beans in Senegal - they say that beans are for poor people (rich people eat meat for protein).   If you want to insult or tease someone, you can call them a bean eater.  The unfortunate effect of this stigma is that many people won't eat beans, even if they are too poor to eat meat.    I think the stigma is stronger in the north of the country, though.  Anyway I am glad that my family eats beans.

Food

written Saturday, 19 May 2007

 

I'm not going to write about what I eat here anymore, unless it changes, because it seems that it is always going to be the same: millet porridge for breakfast, rice with peanut sauce for lunch, and millet with peanut sauce for dinner, with the occasional mango or banana for a snack.

Greetings

written Friday, 18 May 2007

 

 

Yesterday before dinner my counterpart took me around the village to introduce me to the villagers.  We went to 15 or 20 compounds, where I had to speak a combination of: Jaxanke, Mandinka, French, Wolof, Pulaar, and Serrer (okay, I don't know any Serrer at all, so at the Serrer house I just smiled while Mamadou talked).   I think I improved my greeting skills a lot during the couple of hours we were out, and hopefully made a good first impression with the villagers.  I definitely need to learn some more local languages, though!

What I've been up to

written Thursday, 17 May 2007

 

 

Yesterday I hung around with my host family for a while after dinner (dry, sandy millet, but it actually wasn't bad), so my five-year-old jailer was asleep before I went back to my hut, which saved me from having to refuse to let her sleep with me.

 

I got up at 5:30 this morning, when the muezzin started (the mosque is right across from my hut) so that I would be sure to have some time to myself before my jailers showed up.   Which they did, promptly at 7:00, to tell me to come eat breakfast (millet porridge again - it will probably be that every single day).  That hour and a half of free time really helped me, so today I'm not feeling like I'm in prison anymore and I'm just enjoying myself.

 

After brerakfast my counterpart Mamadou came to get me, and we biked to Dialacoto, a small town about 10 km away, where we greeted my other counterpart at the health post there and then went to meet the gendarmes (regional police, kind of like a sheriff or state police) and the commisariat rurale (I have no idea what they do, but apparently they're important).   I was also supposed to meet the Dialacoto village chief, but apparently he's out of town, so I'll have to try to meet him next time I go to Dialacoto.   Anyway, everyone gave the standard speeches to welcome me and wish me a good stay in Senegal, and the gendarmes promised to look out for me and protect me from any potential bad guys.

 

After greeting everyone we headed back to my village, and along the way we passed through a village where Mamadou said my host family used to live; they moved to the village where they're living now because there wasn't enough land to cultivate in the first village.   There was a funeral going on in the village as we passed through; Mamadou said it was a relative of my host family's (and therefore my relative) and they were holding the ceremony for the seventh day after the death (funeral ceremonies are held the first day after a death, the third day, the seventh day, and I forget what after that, up to 40 days).   So we stopped in the village a while to show respect, and we gave a little money to the family because that is the custom - because they have to provide food for all the people who show up and who can stay for as long as they want during the 40 days of mourning.   I gave 1000 francs, which is about $2.

 

Back at home, I had lunch with my family (rice with "maffe" sauce, and a little piece of meat).   When I first got here, my family gave me a spoon to eat with since I was a special guest, but now apparently that period is over, so I'm supposed to start eating with my hands like everyone else.   Which is fine with me, but it's a lot harder than you might think - try eating rice with your hands sometime, and see how much ends up in your mouth and how much on the floor.  Anyway, so I ate lunch with my hands, with my host sisters laughing at me and trying to show me how to scoop up the rice and squish it into a ball so it's easier to get in your mouth.

 

After lunch I managed to wash some clothes - in a bucket, by hand, but I left them to soak in the soapy water overnight, so they came out pretty clean in spite of my bad clothes-washing skills.   Then one of my host brothers came to get me to teach me some Jaxanke - I think it's really cute how they're always asking me where my notebook is so I can write things down.

 

Speaking of Jaxanke, here is the actual language situation in my village: my host family speaks Jaxanke, as do a lot of other people, and then a bunch of people speak Pulaar.   I don't know enough people here yet to have a feel for the proportions of who speaks what.  Some people also speak Mandinka, but it's definitely a minority language.   So it looks like I'll mainly be learning Jaxanke and Pulaar from now on.

Some things I will miss

written Thursday, 17 May 2007

 

 

Some things I can already tell I will really miss when I leave here:

 

• sleeping outside under the stars
• spending the morning biking through the bush and having that count as part of my job
• showering (okay, bucket bathing) outside - hot sun, cool water, and pretty birds in the trees to look at are a really great combination
• bean sandwiches on village bread - I tried the British style beans on toast once and that was awful, but Senegalese bean sandwiches on chewy village bread are amazing.
• kinkelibe tea - it's just delicious

Installation

written Wednesday, 16 May 2007

 

Training ended last Thursday, then Friday we had a free day to pack, and Saturday we went to Dakar for the swearing in ceremony, which was conducted jointly with the Japanese and Korean versions of Peace Corps.   The swearing in ceremony itself was pretty boring, but it was fun seeing everyone dressed up in their grand boubous and fancy complets, and they had yummy hors d'ouvres afterwards - mini cheeseburgers, eggrolls, sushi... We all stuffed ourselves!

 

Right after the ceremony was over, I went back to Thies to hang out with my family for a little bit and say good-bye.   My host mom gave me cups, so that I would have something to drink out of when I got to the village.  I thought it was incredibly generous, given that I'm not sure they even have enough cups to have one per person.

 

Sunday we all woke up at about 5 am to load up the "sept places" (stationwagons) we had hired to take us to our regions.   I was a little scared at how rickety the sept places seemed at first - at one point we stopped because a piece of the car had fallen off and the driver wanted to try to stick it back on - but after a while the car situation just seemed funny to me.   I was sitting in the row behind the driver, and all our stuff was piled behind me.  Every time the driver braked, the stuff would shift forward and push the seat back forward so that it forced us to lean over.   At first we would push it back so we could be leaning back comfortably, but since it kept coming forward again eventually we pretty much gave up and rode leaning forward the whole way.

 

We spent Sunday night at the Peace Corps regional house in Tambacounda, and then Monday the PCVs who have already been here for a while helped us go shopping for things we would need for our huts. (I got: a mattress, some buckets, a trunk, rope, some rubber strips for tying things on the back of my bike, a gas stove, a pot, and a teakettle so I can have my tea once in a while when it isnt too hot).

 

Yesterday (Tuesday) was finally the big day - installation (that's what Peace Corps calls moving into the village).   First one of the Peace Corps staff drove us around to meet some government people in Tambacounda, and then finally we were off to our villages.  I was the third (and last) to get installed out of the group in my car, so I got to see the other two volunteers get installed.   The second person to get installed is the first volunteer her village has ever had, so when we drove up to her village the whole village was out to welcome her, with some boys doing some sort of traditional dance and the village chief giving a speech.   (I took pictures of the dancers, which I'll try to post).  It was really touching that the village was so excited to have her come, but I also found it a little intimidating - people here seem to think that we can do so much for them, and I am afraid that they will be disappointed when they discover that we can't solve every problem in two years.

 

Finally it was my turn.  I am the second volunteer (or maybe third, I think there may have been someone here a long time ago), so no big ceremony for me, which was fine with me.   But several old men, who I presume are the village elders, were there to greet me, and some women were there as well, although they stood kind of far away.   They told me my village name will be Khadija Tanjian (which I think is really pretty).  They also said they're going to have a baptism ceremony for me to officially name me, but I'm not sure if they were serious.   Then they said a prayer for me, which I thought was really nice.

 

After all the official stuff was over, I finally got to check out my hut.  It is a palace!   What qualifies a hut as a palace, you ask?  It has two rooms - a "living room" and a bedroom, screen doors, a nice backyard area which will be nice for relaxing in, and the most advanced, sophisticated kind of latrine.   What makes a latrine sophisticated, you wonder?  Well, instead of just being a hole in the ground, it has a tall pole covered with mesh next to the hole that goes down into the latrine, which is supposed to catch flies and vent bad odors away.

 

After unpacking for a little bit, I went over to my family's compound for dinner.  We had "futoo", which was millet with some kind of peanut sauce.   It wasn't bad, but there was definitely a little sand mixed in.  After dinner I sat around with the family for a little bit, and then I said I was tired and going to bed.   My sister insisted on walking me over to my hut since it was dark out, and about five little kids tagged along.  I hadn't unpacked my sheets and made my bed yet, so she insisted on helping me make my bed, and then took my mattress outside to my little backyard, because it's too hot to sleep inside. Then she said something like, hey, you've got a huge bed, how about letting Khadija (my five-year-old niece or cousin or something) sleep with you?   So somehow I ended up with a kid sleeping in bed with me.  It wasn't bad, except that I hadn't planned to go to bed right that minute - I was going to stay up and unpack and write letters and read a little bit.   But my sister wouldn't leave til I was in the bed with Khadija, so finally I gave up and just went to bed.  I think tonight I'm going to try saying that I need to go study or something, and see how that works out.  

 

I don't remember if I mentioned this when I wrote about the village I visited when I first got to Senegal, but showering outside is really nice - especially when the water is cool and the sun is hot.   And sleeping outside is really nice too - without electricity, you can see about a million stars.  Contrary to what you might expect though, it's really loud here at night, which (at least until I get used to it) makes it really difficult to sleep.   I thought I had it bad in D.C. with all the traffic and sirens, but I think I prefer the sirens to the donkey sounds, because the noise they make sounds like they're in incredible pain and about to die.

 

Anyway, after not very much sleep last night, I got up at about 6 am (I figured getting up early was my best chance to get some time by myself - but no such luck, my little shadow/spy Khadija followed me around the whole time, until I finally threw her out so I could use the bathroom.

 

After breakfast ("monoo" - millet porridge - not bad) my counterpart, who is a health education volunteer from the village, came to get me, and we went on a really nice 10 kilometer bike ride on a dirt road through the bush to a village a few towns over where they were holding the "lumoo", the weekly market.  He helped me buy some stuff I needed (soap, a curtain for my front door which doesn't have a screen door) and some food to give to my family, and then we rode back home.  

 

During the bike ride I noticed that there were a lot of trees with raggedy clothes up in them.  I asked Mamadou, my counterpart, if they were being hung up to dry, but he said no, they are old clothes that are being thrown away; old clothes must be thrown into trees because of a taboo, he said, but he couldn't really explain it to me other than to say that it is better for the clothes to go up than down.

 

Back in the village it was lunch time with the family (rice with peanut sauce and a little fish, no vegetables).   After lunch I tried to get away for a while by myself by telling them I was going to go take a nap, but it didn't work very well because apparently it's not rude at all to come up and stare at people (or at least toubabs) through their windows, so they caught me not sleeping and trying to do other things instead (like write for my blog!), so then I got called to go hang out with the family some more.

 

I was warned before I got "installed" that I would probably have a lot of free time and finding things to do to fill it would be a challenge.   So far, though, that hasn't happened.  I feel a little like I'm in prison, with people making my schedule for me and a troop of kids guarding me all the time.   I'm going to just say no to having a kid sleep with me tonight, and hopefully tomorrow will go a little better.  My counterpart says he's going to take me to Dialacoto, a town about 8 kilometers away, where the health post I am associated with is located, so I can greet my other counterpart who works there.

I'm off to my village!

I passed my language test, and today is the last day of training. Tomorrow we have the day free to pack and relax a bit, and then Saturday we go to Dakar for a swearing-in ceremony. Back to Thies Saturday afternoon/evening, and early Sunday morning we start traveling to our villages. I will just travel to Tambacounda on Sunday (which is an all-day trip), so on Monday I can open a bank account there and go shopping for some basic supplies for my hut. Then Tuesday it's off to my village! (I'm a little scared, but also excited).

After Sunday I will only be able to use internet, send/receive mail, and do pretty much anything else besides eat, sleep, pound millet, and pull water from the well, when I can travel into town 70 km away. So my posts will probably become less frequent. But don't worry, I am not going to disappear completely!

Feelings and Jelly Beans

written Monday, 7 April 2007

 

Recently I received an email from a friend who said she's enjoyed reading my blog, but I don't really write about how I'm feeling on it.   So how am I feeling?

 

Of course life here has its ups and downs, just like life anywhere.  But overall I'm having a great time and really enjoying all the new experiences.   I have my moments of wondering what I'm doing here, whether I'm doing anything worthwhile or whether it's just a giant vacation for me (and if so, where is the pampering? I miss showers!), but mostly I'm really glad I came here.   Even if I don't manage to do anything useful for anyone in Senegal,  I think I am really learning a lot which will help me to be a better and hopefully wiser person in the future.

 

One thing that I have already noticed changing in my outlook is that I have great respect for people here.   Working in the field of humanitarian assistance, which is what I was doing before I came here, it is easy to see people in developing countries as simply recipients of assistance, people to be pitied.   And I think many of us in America tend to view women in Muslim countries as oppressed because of the different gender roles here and practices such as polygamy and female circumcision/genital cutting.

 

But I have found that the people here, while they may not have much, are resourceful and take care of themselves, and while they appreciate assistance, they don't want pity.   And I haven't met a woman yet who says she feels oppressed by gender roles and cultural practices, but I have spoken to many who not only support but take pride in their place in society.

 

So I am learning.  Some days are really hard, and I am just desperate for a real shower and some American food and to be in my own little apartment where I don't have to try to fit into anyone else's culture or lifestyle, but mostly I am really happy to be having this experience.

 

Today I received a package from a good friend and a girl I just met briefly.  She wrote a note that said she has been reading my blog, and wanted to do something to thank me for the work I am doing here.   I don't think I deserve such compliments at all, but it's very encouraging and motivating to know that people back home, even people I don't know very well, are rooting for me and think I am doing something good here. (Thanks, C!   PS: I gave one of the bags of jelly beans to my family, and they LOVED them.  My mom poured them out on a plate, and then they all just looked at them and ooh'ed and aah'ed at the pretty colors, and wouldn't even eat them until I took a picture of my mom with the plate of jellybeans, which I promised to give her a copy of.   And then they gobbled them up, and gave me high 5's, saying 'way to go, Fatou' (or its equivalent in Mandinka, anyway).  I spent about half the day debating with myself whether I could stand to share my precious toubab food, but seeing how much they enjoyed it was definitely more wonderful than eating them myself.)

 

So, I'm learning.  Toubab food will always be very much appreciated though!

Counterpart Workshop

written Saturday, 5 May 2007

Thursday and Friday this week we had a "counterpart workshop" where the people we will be working with in our villages came to Thies to learn about Peace Corps and how to work with us volunteers.

I have two counterparts, an "Infirmier Chef de Poste" (nurse head of the regional health post in the nearest town), and a village "relais", who is a volunteer with some basic health training who does health education for his village.

Of course it was very exciting (and also a little nerve-wracking) to meet people from my village. I wore my Senegalese "complets" both days to try to make a good impression, and I was lucky that both of them speak French, so we were able to communicate without too much trouble.

I got a few questions answered about my village (yes, there is cell phone coverage, but it's Tigo, the Senegalese company, instead of Orange, the French company, and apparently reception is pretty sporadic. They said Orange is supposed to be providing service "soon", though, whatever "soon" means to a Senegalese), but most of our time was taken up with official workshop sessions, so we didn't get to talk too much. I am pretty content to find out what it's like when I get there though, rather than having someone tell me all about it ahead of time. It will be more exciting this way.

But it's reassuring at least to know that there will be one person I know in the village, if only a little bit, as the Peace Corps car is driving away and leaving me there all alone.

Just over a week to go til I move to the village! (assuming I pass my language test on Tuesday).

Dakar

written Saturday, 5 May 2007


I put off writing about last Monday's trip to Dakar because it left me in such a bad mood that I needed time to cool off before I could write fairly about it.

I don't want to go into a lot of details here, but will just say that bureaucracy is an incredibly frustrating thing. And to top off my frustration in that direction, the pizza which I had been looking forward to for days was the worst pizza I've ever had in my life, and really it can't even be described as pizza. It was just ground meat that tasted like bad meatloaf sitting on bread that was like pita bread, with ketchup and mustard to pour on top of it. No tomato sauce, no cheese. So let's just call it meatloaf on pita. And yes, I ate it because I was starving (since I had made sure not to eat too much breakfast so I would be hungry for the wonderful pizza I was expecting).

To be fair and balance out my complaints about bureaucracy, though, I must report that my petition for women's bikes was responded to positively. Peace Corps is ordering women's seats which anyone who was issued a man's bicycle can request, and future volunteers will be offered women's bicycles.

Also on a positive note, at the end of our long bureaucratic day in Dakar, Peace Corps had the drivers stop off at a French pastry shop and a toubab supermarket before we left Dakar. I won't tell on the other volunteers, but will just report on myself: I ate a "pain au chocolate" (basically a croissant with chocolate in it), a custard-filled donut (best donut of my life), a handful of imitation Pringle's chips, a few bites of ice cream, some gummy worm type things, and probably a few other things that I have forgotten by now, all within about an hour. I don't regret it at all, although I will (somewhat delicately) say that I paid for my unaccustomed junk food splurging with stomach problems for about four days. Totally worth it, though.

News!

Someone has apparently signed me up for the Christian Science Monitor! I've gotten two issues so far! I'm in heaven! (and the other volunteers are jealous, but I'm being nice and sharing).

Thanks, whoever you are!

And who are you?

And if they're going to keep coming, please change the subscription to my new address!!

Unionizing

Today in training we had a session about sexual health (different sessions for the men and women).  In the women's session the issue of Peace Corps not supplying or paying for tampons or other sanitary supplies came up, with us volunteers of course being frustrated because they are extremely expensive and hard to get here, and it really cuts into our budgets if we have to use our small allowances (which are no bigger than the men's allowances) to buy them.  The official Peace Corps response was that we could get our families to ship us supplies from the US, but nobody felt that this was much of a solution since Peace Corps is supposed to provide for all our health care and other needs while we are over here.

 

So...we are thinking of starting a petition, writing some letters, etc.  I think I'm going to get a name for myself as a unionizer/activist, but I'm okay with that.  Peace Corps could really use some official means for volunteers to bring up concerns as a group with staff, headquarters, and the larger government.

 

We'll see what happens. 

Money

written Wednesday, 2 April 2007

Money

 

I finally learned how money works here.  I had learned before that when speaking in local languages such as Wolof or Mandinka, that the numbers don't correspond to money amounts.   For example, the word that means "twenty" means a different amount if you're talking about money.  Up til now, what the "money number" was was a complete mystery to me.  

 

So here's how it works: it's all based on the "dasato", the five-franc coin, (which is worth about one cent in American money).   Five francs is called "one dasato"; twenty-five francs is called "5 dasatos"; one hundred francs is "twenty dasatos"; and so on.  

 

Seems simple - just multiply everything times five.  It gets a little more confusing though, because people don't always say "dasatos".   So if you're trying to buy something, and you ask how much it costs, the vendor might say "five".  But that doesn't mean five francs.   That would be too easy.  It means five dasatos, which equals twenty-five francs.

 

Just when I was starting to get a little faster at being able to figure out what number it is when someone says "tan saaba nin kilin", they throw in this whole monkey wrench of multiplying money times five.   I am going to have to get better at math.  But I guess it keeps life interesting.

My atrophying left hand

My atrophying left hand

written Sunday, 29 April 2007

 

I was warned before I came to Senegal that I would not be allowed to do a lot of things with my left hand, including eating and handing things to people, because the left hand is considered dirty (because it is the hand you use in the bathroom, as a substitute for toilet paper).  

 

I was afraid, since I am left handed, I would be constantly forgetting and offending people by using my left hand, but as it turns out, I made myself so paranoid about doing the wrong thing that I hardly use my left hand for anything anymore (except writing, which I just can't do with my right hand).   Even when I am with other Americans and I consciously tell myself that I can use my left hand, I can hardly bring myself to do it.

 

I am a little afraid that my left arm is going to atrophy and fall off from lack of use.

The President Abdoulaye Wade music video

The Abdoulaye Wade music video

written Sunday, 29 April 2007

 

Yesterday I saw the most hilarious example yet of African "big man" politics - the President Abdoulaye Wade music video.   It featured two girls riding down the highway in Dakar in a covertible or jeep or something, and singing about how great "grandfather Abdoulaye" is - that he is bringing Senegal into the future, building roads, creating jobs, etc.   Every few seconds they would cut to one of the standard photos of Wade, where he has his arms raised in a victory pose.

 

Should the President Bush tribute music video be next?

So cute

So cute

written Sunday, 29 April 2007

 

Today I was out walking around town with some friends and we came across a very cute lost baby goat, bleating for its mother.   One of my friends baa'ed back at it because it was so cute.  I guess she did a good goat impression, because the baby goat decided she was its mother and followed us halfway to town, until we took evasive measures (we wanted it to stay in its neighborhood so if its mother was around she might find it).

Going to Dakar

Tomorrow all of us Peace Corps trainees are going to Dakar for the day to visit the embassy and Peace Corps office there, mainly to do boring administrative stuff. I am very excited to go though, both to see Dakar for the first time (driving from the airport at 5 am the very first day in Senegal doesn't count because I fell asleep on the bus) and... because they are going to feed us pizza! It's so nice to have some American food once in a while, even if it isn't quite American...

Today I had lunch at a restaurant with some other trainees, and I ordered a hamburger. I haven't had a hamburger since leaving the US. And discovered that Senegalese hamburgers are made of: a pretty standard hamburger bun, a ground beef patty, ketchup... topped with a fried egg and french fries! Weird, but pretty tasty. (Course, my tastiness standards are pretty low and include just about anything that isn't fish, so if you try making a Senegalese hamburger at home and it's awful, don't blame me!).

Pictures!

I posted more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/aidworkr

Taboo

written Saturday, 28 April 2007

This week my Mandinka class went to one of our families' houses to practice Mandinka. We found out (because one of the girls was doing it) that curling your toes down (like you might do to stretch them a little) means that you hope your parents will die soon. So if you do it accidentally and people notice, they will think you want your parents to die and that you are a bad person. Watch out!

Week recap

written Friday, 27 April 2007

It's a cliche to say it, but this week has really flown by. Tuesday we had our second language assessments; Wednesday we were issued our bikes and got the results from our language assessments (mine was good, but it doesn't really mean anything because it is really only how you perform on the last test that matters); and yesterday (Thursday) we had a talent show, with the talented among us (not me) entertaining the rest of us with songs, stories, and skits. Also I finally went to a tailor to get some clothes made, and they're supposed to be finished today. I'll try to post some pictures of me in my "complet" later (assuming it doesn't look terrible).

This weekend a bunch of people are going to the beach again, but I haven't spent much time with my family here and I'm pretty tired, so I'm planning to stick around town, hang out with my family, and hopefully sleep a little. And maybe go for a nice long bike ride on Sunday, now that we finally have our bikes (they did end up having women's bikes for us, so I was happy about that).

More Mandinka fun

written Friday, 27 April 2007


The word for radio in Mandinka means "suitcase that talks".

The word for airplane is "flying boat".

The word for face literally means "eye mouth".

Bikes

written Saturday, 21 April 2007


We are supposed to be issued our bikes on Wednesday (finally!), accompanied by a three hour bike training (which I hope is going to cover bike maintenance and not how to ride a bike). I'm really looking forward to having a bike, except that they are giving us all men's bikes. I think the seats for men's bikes are really uncomfortable, and the horizontal crossbar is really impractical for girls considering Peace Corps has been pushing us to dress "culturally appropriately" - a.k.a. long skirts.

So I decided to do something about it. I wrote a letter to the Peace Corps Country Director asking them to make women's bikes available for volunteers who want them, and I got most of the other girls to sign it. I'm not expecting much, but maybe they'll at least give us women's seats.

Anyway, it was a fun little project for a day. We'll see what happens.

More questions from my mom

written Saturday, 21 April 2007


1. What creatures have you seen there? Do people keep goats and chickens? What about lizards and insects? Do people there have pets at all?

Let's see... I've seen a few monkeys, but that's about it for exotic animals. People do have goats and chickens, and sheep, even in the city. One of the other trainee's families even has turkeys. All those animals are going to be dinner someday. I've also seen cows, donkeys, and horses wandering around in the streets, but I haven't seen anyone keeping such large animals in their courtyards.

Lizards are all over the place, scampering up walls and trees. I haven't seen any interesting insects really, just mosquitoes, flies, and regular-looking spiders.

People here don't really have "pets" the way Americans do, for company, but some families, like mine, have cats. I think the cats are there to keep away mice and other unwanted animals. No one here pets cats (except me, the crazy toubab).

2. Do they brush their teeth?

I haven't seen anyone brushing their teeth with a toothbrush and toothpaste like we do, although those things are available in some stores. People mostly use a special stick to chew on and scrape their teeth with, which apparently is pretty effective at preventing cavities. But people don't seem to be very conscientious about doing it every day, and when I visited the village a few weeks ago I saw that a lot of people were missing teeth.

3. If you get water straight from a deep well, is it
clean enough to drink as it is?

Not by my standards. It seems that villagers do usually drink their water "as is" from their wells, but us picky toubabs need to filter it and add bleach or something to kill bacteria.

4. What is the deal with feminine hygiene? How is that taken care of there?

I haven't talked with any Senegalese about this, but Peace Corps people have told me that people mostly use cloths (good for the environment, but kind of gross). Tampons are available in the toubab stores, but they're really expensive and most Senegalese don't even know what they're for.

5. Is there any prenatal care for pregnant women? Do children get any vaccinations?

There is prenatal care for pregnant women, and one of the things I am supposed to do as a Peace Corps Volunteer is to try to teach people about prenatal care and why they should go for checkups. Doctor visits usually cost about $0.50, but even this is expensive for many villagers, so many people will only go to the doctor when they are very sick. Prenatal visits are starting to catch on, but women in villages still mostly deliver their babies at home unless they live really close to a health facility because being in labor on a donkey cart for an hour or two is not fun.

Vaccinations are available quite cheap for kids, and it seems that the Ministry of Health here is really pushing them and trying to educate people about why vaccinations are important. But it is still entirely up to the parents to do it, not like in the US where you have to have certain vaccinations to be allowed to go to school (and anyway not all kids go to school here, so if the Senegalese government tried to make vaccinations a requirement for going to school, it might just decrease school attendance).

6. Have you been fishing yet?

No. The village I'm being assigned to is supposedly only a mile from the Gambia River, though, so I may have the opportunity (not that I really want to - I don't like fishing or killing animals in general, and I don't particularly want to have more fish in my diet either).

Gas shortage

written Friday, 20 April 2007


Today after "school" (that's how I think of Peace Corps training) I went into my room at home to do homework. When I came out there was no one around. Strange. My house is always chock full of people. Then a little later my brothers showed up, with a big piece of scrap wood. "There's your dinner," they said. It was a joke, but only sort of. My host dad explained to me that there is a natural gas shortage all over Senegal right now - the ship that brings the gas here was late or something. It's in the port in Dakar now, but the gas hasn't been unloaded yet. So the gas canisters they use for cooking aren't available anywhere in Thies right now, and according to my host dad, they're not available anywhere in Senegal. So my family had gone out scavenging for scrap wood to make a fire with to cook dinner. My brothers chopped up the piece of wood they brought home with a machete (not the most effective tool for splitting wood), and now dinner is cooking.

I'm hungry.

More about polygamy

written Thursday, 19 April 2007


Today for Mandinka class we went to visit one of my classmates' host families, to practice Mandinka with them. After getting through the greetings and talking about where we're from and our families, the conversation got a little stuck. So the Mandinka woman we were talking to decided to get it un-stuck and spice up the conversation a little bit.

"So," she says, "I'm a third wife. My husband has two other wives. What do you think of that?"

So we had an interesting conversation about polygamy, in which she and my Mandinka teacher explained to us that according to Islam, if a man is married and he wants to have sex with a woman who is not his wife, it is better for him to marry her than to be sneaking around behind the first wife's back and sinning.

In America, they said, when a married man falls in love with someone new he has to get divorced in order to marry her. So it ends up with everyone getting divorced and remarried all the time. This is no good.

We told them that in America there are lots of couples that don't get divorced, just as in Senegal there are many non-polygamous marriages. But in any case, I told them, if my husband wanted to marry someone else, I would prefer to divorce him rather than continue to be married to him while he is also married to someone else.

I think they thought I was crazy.

Language

written Thursday, 19 April 2007


I've talked to the relevant people here at Peace Corps about the fact that I am being posted to a village that speaks Pulaar and Jaxanke, and not Mandinka, the language I am learning. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I am concerned that I am not learning the language that is spoken in my village. What can be done about this? Can I start studying Pulaar?

Peace Corps: No. The last volunteer who went to your village studied Mandinka, and she did great.

Me: Yes, but she told me once she got there she had to speak Jaxanke, not Mandinka. And she couldn't speak with people who spoke only the dominant language, Pulaar. So how about at least letting me switch into Jaxanke class, since Jaxanke is similar to Mandinka?

Peace Corps: No. If you switch into Jaxanke, you won't reach the required Intermediate Low language level in Mandinka by the end of training, because you will confuse the two languages.

Me: But if I won't be speaking Mandinka in the village, what difference does it make if I achieve Intermediate Low level? Wouldn't it be better to have beginner level of a language I will actually be using, rather than a higher level of a language I won't use?

Peace Corps: Those are the rules. You must achieve Intermediate Low in Mandinka by the end of training.

***
Ahh, gotta love bureaucracy. On the plus side, though, they did promise to give me a Pulaar book at the end of training to take with me to the village, and if I can find someone in the village to tutor me in Pulaar, then Peace Corps will pay for it. So I am trying to look at this in a positive way: by the end of my two years here, I will probably have learned two, if not three, African languages. (I like learning languages, so for me that's a good thing).

Castes in Senegal

written Wednesday, 18 April 2007


Today we had a class about the caste system in Senegal. Not all of the ethnic groups have castes, but for those that do, it goes something like this: there are the nobles, which are at the top, and then there are the worker types, which are divided into woodcutters, blacksmiths, weavers, etc. Each of the worker castes are equal to each other, and apparently people have a lot of pride in their caste. After workers, there are captives or slaves.

So there are basically three levels of caste, and a Senegalese can tell what caste a person belongs to by their last name. However, in modern times, while people still belong to castes, they don't necessarily do whatever trade is assigned to their caste. So someone could belong to the weaver caste but be working in carpentry instead, because the money is better. Caste is still important though for marriages and maintaining social order. It is a big deal, and mostly not done, to marry someone from a lower caste.

This is just the quick explanation they gave us in class. Hopefully I'll learn more about it when I get to my village.

TV and power outages

written Tuesday, 17 April 2007


The most popular tv shows in Senegal are: Barberita, a Venezuelan soap opera; 24; and Monk. I think Monk must give Senegalese a really strange idea of Americans.

Anyway, all of Senegal watches Barberita, it seems. Even in villages with no electricity or running water, it is not uncommon for people to have tvs that they run off of car batteries. In Thies, just about every time Barberita comes on, the power goes out a few minutes later. I think that so many people are tuning in that it overloads the electrical grid. But don't worry - if the power goes out during Barberita, they make sure to re-broadcast the episode again the next day!

So last night Barberita was on, and after a few minutes the power went out. When this happens, my family uses their cell phone screens for light. I find it a really funny anachronism for people to be using cell phones for light while cooking over their little portable propane (or maybe it's gas? I don't know) stoves.

Fun language factoids

The word for wall in Mandinka means literally "body of the room", and the word for door means "mouth of the room". Windows aren't "eyes of the room" though, unfortunately.

Weekend at the beach

I spent the weekend at the beach in Popenguin, a village about 35 km away from Thies. One of my trainee friends organized it, finding a house for a big group of us trainees to stay at and arranging for an Alham bus to take us there and back.

The house was beautiful, with the most impressive features being real bathrooms! in every bedroom! with real toilets and running water! Such luxury! I really didn't feel like I was in Africa while we were there - the houses on the beach were all pretty typical beach houses, mostly Colonial architecture, and there were more toubabs than locals. We did see a couple of monkeys though, but I think they were being kept as pets by this toubab restaurant owner, so they don't really count.

So it was a really nice, much needed break. I got sunburned, but not too badly, and took a lot of pictures, which I will try to upload next time I'm on the computer (the computer I'm on today isn't letting me use any peripherals).

I'm back in Thies now, with only four weeks left to go of training, and then I will be off to my village!

I have a new mailing address for my village, so if anyone sends me mail (please?)after this Friday (April 20), please send it to the new address, which I will send out by email.

Frustration

Today I found out what village I will be living in for the next two years.

My village sounds great. It is a village of about 700-800 people, very close to where I "demysted", about 70 km south of Tambacounda. There has been one health volunteer there before me, and I was able to talk to her about it a bit, and she says that she loved it.

Only one problem - I have been studying Mandinka, and the people in my village speak mainly Pulaar, and a little Jaxanke, which is similar to Mandinka, but still a different language.

Oops.

I am going to talk to the language training coordinator tomorrow to see if I can start learning Pulaar. We'll see what happens.

Big week

written Tuesday, 10 April 2007


This is an important week for me. It is the halfway point of training, and the week of the first exams and evaluations (I had a health quiz on Monday and a Mandinka exam today - I think they both went well). We were also supposed to be issued bikes this week, but the bike man has apparently gone off to Ghana for some reason, so we have to wait another two weeks. Beginning this weekend, we are finally allowed to leave Thies and go traveling about on our own, so most of the trainees (including me!) are planning to go to the beach this weekend (only about 35 km away).

AND - most exciting of all - on Friday we find out what villages each of us are being sent to! I can't wait. Apparently the staff blindfold us and place us on a giant map on a soccer field, so we can have an immediate visual of where we will be in Senegal and which volunteers we will be living near.

Answers to my mom's questions

written Tuesday, 10 April 2007


1. Is my host family paid?

My host family is paid by Peace Corps to give me my own room, to feed me dinner every night, plus breakfast and lunch on Sundays, and to do my laundry (except underwear, which I have to do myself). I'm not sure exactly how much they get paid, but Peace Corps says "not a lot" and the families take us because they want the cultural interaction of having an American live with them. My family certainly has never made me feel like they're taking volunteers for any other reason than because they like to, but for many families it seems that the motivation is a hope that one of their children will end up marrying the volunteer living with them and get a green card to go to the US.

Once I get to the village, though, Peace Corps does not pay the families we will be living with there, and we are expected to contribute to the family, either through money or buying food, out of our Peace Corps stipend.

2. Where does concrete for the houses come from?

I'm not sure, I'm sure it's made somewhere and brought into town just like in the US. But in the villages the buildings are made with homemade bricks, which you can see being made out in fields.

3. Do peoople own their land?

In cities I think people own land just like in the US or Europe, but in the villages there is communal ownership of the land. It is up to the village chief to give permission for people to use the land, for example if a family is growing and a new hut needs to be built.

The village chief is a hereditary position (not democratically elected).

4. How do they earn money?

My host father is a teacher of agricultural engineering, employed by the government. My host mom is a housewife.

More generally, though, Senegal has a very high unemployment rate, which has led many young people to try to go to Europe as illegal immigrants. In the villages people are essentially subsistence farmers.

5. Is there a place to go swimming?

There are swimming pools in some cities, mainly at tourist hotels, but the water isn't treated with chlorine or anything, so Peace Corps recommends not swimming in them because you can catch parasites and other nasty things there.

I am hoping to go to the beach this weekend though...

6. What vaccinations have I had?

I have had about a million vaccines, including: rabies, Hepatitis, flu, MMR (measles, mumps, and rubella), tetanus, and yellow fever. Every week it seems we get two or three more shots.

The only vaccination required to enter Senegal, though, is yellow fever. Plus it is recommended to take anti-malarial drugs (I am on mefloquine, which gives crazy dreams, as I have written about before).

7. How does bathing work?

At the training center we had showers, but both in the village I visited and now at my host family's house the system is bucket bathing - fill up a bucket with water, carry it into the shower area, and use a cup or something to scoop water out of the bucket and pour it onto your head. You end up using a lot less water this way (cause you have to carry it yourself, potentially a fairly long way if you are in a village and have to go to the village well), so it's probably good for the environment, but I don't feel like I get nearly as clean as with a real shower.

8. What kind of music do they have?

The traditional music I have heard has been either drums (tam-tams) or the balaphone (xylophone) which was played at the baptism I went to. But American pop music and rap are pretty popular here (my family is a big fan of Shakira).

9. Have I been bitten by mosquitoes yet?

I get bitten by mosquitoes every day, usually after it gets dark but before I go to sleep under my mosquito net. I've been averaging about three a night, and the mosquitoes seem to prefer biting my ankles for some reason.

According to the Peace Corps doctor, even with the anti-malaria drugs you can get infected with malaria, and the drugs just keep the little malaria animals from being able to multiply in your body, until you stop taking the drug (which is why they give us extra anti-malaria drugs when we finish service and go back to the US).

So it is possible that I have little malaria monsters hanging out in my liver. But I'm over it. I just add it to the list of tapeworms and other parasites I've been exposed to and may now be harboring. As long as I don't feel sick and no monsters are popping out of my body, I'm not worrying about it.

Pictures

I have added more pictures to http://picasaweb.google.com/aidworkr. Please check them out!

Easter in Senegal

written Sunday, 8 April 2007 5:00 pm


I just got back from an Easter party at a Christian Serrer (Serrer is an ethnic group) family's house that I went to with my host mom. I didn't realize until we got there that we were going to be doing all the work, but I got to learn how to cook a little more, so it was fun. Except for touching the dead animal parts (okay, meat, but it still looked like goat pieces) which completely grossed me out. Also, cooking over a fire in 90 degree weather is not exactly refreshing. But the meal was a big plate of peas with meat and fried potatoes mixed in, which was way more vegetables than I've had at any other meal in Senegal, so I was happy. There wasn't much happening at the party besides people sitting around and eating, but my host mom told me it was because there had been a death in the family recently; normally they would have music and more of a party atmosphere.

Anyway, I think it's interesting and a great example to the rest of the world that each religious group in Senegal invites people from other religions to celebrate holidays with them, so Muslims can look forward to and enjoy Christian holidays, and vice versa.

Polygamy

written Sunday, 8 April 2007


I had an interesting talk with my host mother last night about polygamy. I wanted to know how she feels about it, because she had told me that her father had two wives, but she herself is a single wife. And of course for me polygamy is a very foreign thing.

She told me that she thinks polygamy as a tradition is fine, and that whether or not it works in a family depends entirely on the people involved and how they treat each other. If the man is fair with both (or all, if there are more than two) his wives, and if the first wife is given respect as the senior wife, then, my host mom says, everyone can live happily. She said she would not mind being one of multiple wives under those conditions, and if her husband did take a second wife, then she would want to be close to the second wife as if they were sisters.

Polygamy is still definitely not for me, but it is interesting having someone I respect support it.

Things that never even occurred to me to worry about

written Saturday, 7 April 2007


One of the other trainees got peed on yesterday by one of the bats that sleeps hanging from the thatch root of our disco hut, where a lot of our classes are. I still laugh every time I think about it.

Of all the things I was worried about happening to me before I came to Senegal, getting peed on by a bat was not one of them. But it is now. I'm being careful not to sit under the bats' area in the disco hut anymore.

Cultural events

written Saturday, 7 April 2007


On Thursday, my Mandinka teacher took our class to a baptism at his house (his cousin's baby son was being baptized). Baptism traditionally takes place one week after a child is born, and is both when the child is given its name and when it officially becomes a Muslim.

We got there a little late for the actual ceremony, so we didn't get to see much... except for three sheep being slaughtered. Ew! I took pictures of it with my eyes closed.

Then, when I got home in the afternoon, there was a wedding taking place at the house next door to mine, and my host mom had told them they could use our courtyard for cooking. So our yard was jam packed with old ladies and giant cauldrons full of couscous.

My mom took me next door to see the wedding, but there wasn't much happening, just a lot of girls in very preetty boubous sitting around talking. They did have a griot (traditional singer), who when he saw me, the toubab sticking out like a sore thumb, starting singing me a song (Bonjour! Ca va? over and over). Of course him singing to me made everyone stare at me, and I had no idea what to do (later I found out I was supposed to give him money, but I didn't have any with me anyway), so that was an awkward moment. I got some great couscous for dinner though.

Missing Things

written Wednesday, 4 April 2007, 3:30 pm


The parade was pretty much a bust. I walked over to the Place de France with my host brother and sister, and there were lots of people there, but we couldn't get close enough to see the parade. It seems that the parade was only about a block long, from an intersection over to a plaza area where there were stadium seats (I don't know if they were set up for the occasion or if they are there all the time). So if you had a seat, or if you got there really early and got a good spot on the sidewalk in the one block area of the parade, it was probably great. But after standing out there and getting really hot for about an hour, we came home. And watched the Dakar parade on tv.

Today is a really hot sticky day (one of the very few humid days I've experienced in Thies - usually it's hot but not humid, which is more comfortable but then I don't notice how hot I am until I start feeling sick and have to go drink about a gallon of water). This weather makes me think about all the things I miss from home, including:

1. real showers where you can adjust the water temperature (the wussy showers at the training center don't count - not enough water pressure).
2. any kind of food that doesn't involve fish or rice, but expecially cereal with really cold milk
3. baked goods and anything else with refined sugar (although cookies and other things are available here, it's just not the same somehow).

It seems funny how short that list is, and maybe especially that it doesn't include air conditioning. But I never liked A/C in the US much - people always set it too cold for me.

I am having another Senegalese day with my family. After the parade, I watched the Dakar parade on tv with my family for a while, then I went to my room and wrote letters and read for a while til I fell asleep. Then we had lunch - fish and rice! - then attaya tea and frozen juice called radi in Wolof or radio in Mandinka. My host mom showed me how they handwash clothes here - they are supposed to wash my clothes for me, except my underwear which I have to do myself, but I asked her to show me since I don't feel like I really know how to do it - so we had a nice half hour laughing at how terrible I am at washing clothes - I'd make a pretty poor housewife in Senegal.. Now we are sitting around again watching independence day stuff on tv. It's a fast-paced life.

Independence Day

written Wednesday, April 4, 2007


Today is Senegal's independence day. I have a much-needed day off from Peace Corps training (I feel like they are trying to prepare us for slowness and inefficiency in the villages by being slow and inefficient themselves). There is supposed to be a parade this morning, which I am planning to go to and will hopefully be able to take some pictures of. There was also a quasi-parade last night - my family had told me that the army was supposed to make a tour of the city with torches and tam-tam drums, but all I ever saw was a huge mass of people walking to the Place de France (basically the main square), where nothing was happening.

I did discover, however, that Thies has bumper cars! My host mom took me and my siblings to watch people riding in them after we got to the Place de France and saw that nothing was happening. I found bumper cars in Thies to be very typically Senegalese - five or six people crammed in each bumper car made to hold only two small people, and everyone driving very carefully, not liking to crash into the other cars at all. And of course one car that would only drive in reverse.

I'll try to write more later today, after the parade.

Hand-washing and disease

written Sunday, April 1, 2007


I didn't mention in my earlier post that I have had diarrhea ever since our delicious yassa lunch this afternoon. I blame the fact that my 2-year-old sister was sitting next to me and kept reaching into my section of the bowl with her dirty hands.

In spite of the fact that the Senegalese government runs really great, looong commercials regularly about how important hand washing is to preventing disease, and despite that it is so dusty here that you are filthy the minute you step out your door, people just don't wash hands here.

I know that it is hard to change behaviors. Even when people know something is bad for them (like smoking) they often continue to do it. Or fail to do something good for them just because it is not their habit. Certainly lots of people in America don't wash their hands regularly.

But as my experience this afternoon proves, hand washing is really important. Especially in an environment where goats and sheep and other animals are running around and pooping in the streets where children play, where trash is just thrown into the street, and where it is so dusty that I have a washable "tan" five minutes after leaving my house.

So, challenge number one when I get to my village: try to get people to wash their hands before meals.

A Senegalese day

written Sunday, April 1, 2007, 7:00 pm


I have had a very nice Senegalese-tempo day today. I was afraid I'd be bored with nothing planned to do today, but it's actually been really nice.

After breakfast (baguette with nutella and kinkelibe tea, which is amazing and tastes like chai), I went for a walk around town with another volunteer who lives near me, just to get a better idea of where things are and how to get around here. After walking around for about two hours, including figuring out how to get to the Peace Corps center from where I live, we went home and took naps. In the early afternoon we had lunch - my first time eating yassa, which is chicken curry with rice and is really good - and then we spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with the family, learning how to make attaya tea and mango jelly (both yum). Then a quick trip to the "cyber" to read emails, my daily bucket bath shower (oh how I miss real showers!), and now it's more relaxing time until dinner at 9:00 and then bed.

I think I could get used to this kind of life.

Week Recap

written Sunday, April 1, 2007


It's about 7:00 am. I have been awake since 5:00 because, as usual, the muezzin - the call to prayer - woke me up. I always lie in bed hoping to go back to sleep, until 6:00 when I have to get up for school (Peace Corps training, I mean. It's funny how I think of it as school). Today is Sunday, though, so no training today. I was hoping I would be able to get back to sleep and sleep in a bit, but no such luck. The prayers seemed to be especially long and loud this morning, probably because the Prophet Mohammad's birthday was yesterday. Most of my family members went to Traore (or something like that, I don't know how to spell it), which is the capital or headquarters of the religious brotherhood they belong to, to pray in the mosque there. So dinner last night was very quiet.

I bought a cell phone yesterday. It seems strange to have one in a country where most people don't have electricity or running water, but they're very common here and I guess network coverage is pretty good. Almost all the Peace Corps volunteers have them, even those living in remote villages without "reseau" (network coverage) so that they can get in touch with people when they are in town. It's' free for me to receive calls on the phone, so I'm hoping (hint hint!) that friends and family back in the US might call once in a while.

A note on being called a toubab: I have learned in the past week that in Senegalese culture it is very normal to point out differences between yourself and someone else, and even to tease the other person about whatever it is. According to one of my teachers, this is part of the key to Senegal's ethnic harmony - it is normal for members of different ethnic groups to tease each other and give each other a hard time, but it is absolutely unacceptable to ever be offended by it. In fact, if you become offended, my teacher says that the village elders would call a meeting of everyone in the village to tell you how wrong it is to be offended or to hold a grudge, no matter what the offense was. So for example, the Pulaar teachers at the training center will shout to me Mandinka musoo! (Mandinka woman - because I am learning Mandinka), and I am supposed to respond back Pulaar kewo! (Pulaar man!). This is normal, friendly teasing. So, now that I know that, I don't mind being called a toubab at all, and I just respond back Senegalais! (Senegalese man or woman). (Pinching I am still not okay with, though).

Fun factoids:
• The word for bicycle in Mandinka is foolee suwo, which literally means "plastic horse".
• To be educated in Mandinka culture means to master values, rather than to gain knowledge.
• The word for education in Wolof literally means "stick".

Hot milk with mint, and a dance party

written Friday, March 30, 2007


Last night after dinner I was writing blog entries on my Palm, and the kids were very interested in my Palm, even though they had seen it before. I decided to show them how to play games on it (Solitaire), so I ended up staying with the family longer after dinner than I usually do so that the kids could play.

They always bring out a teapot and portable stove (it's like a camping stove, a big kerosene burner - that's what everyone uses for cooking here) after dinner, which I always assumed was for making attaya, which is a traditional, very caffeinated tea. So I would always tell the family I had to go to bed when I saw the tea supplies coming out, because if I stayed I would have to drink it and then the caffeine would keep me awake all night.

But last night I was busy showing my sister how to play games on my palm pilot, so I didn't really notice them bringing out the tea stuff. Until I got passed a little glass. It was too late to get out of it at that point, so I drank it. And discovered that it wasn't attaya after all, but some sort of hot milk with sugar and mint concoction - SO GOOD! I told my family I really liked it, and my mom said I should stick around for a second glass then (it's traditional to have three glasses (shot glass size) of attaya, and I guess they do it with the milk stuff too). I said definitely I would stick around for some more.

And then the fun started. One of my brothers (or cousins? I still don't really understand how everyone is related or who exactly is living at my house) turned on the stereo and started dancing, very flamboyantly to make everyone laugh. And then out of nowhere, it seemed, more boys showed up, and for about an hour there was a teenage boy dance party in my living room. My host mom, little sister, and I sat there and laughed our heads off at them.

So it was a very good evening.

And P.S. I'm not sick at all this morning after eating the salad. I guess it's possible that now I'm hosting a tapeworm or something. But so far, at least, I'm really not worrying about it.

Hot New Technologies

written Thursday, March 29, 2007


Tonight after dinner my host mother pulled out an ATM card and asked me, Do you know what this is? I thought she was referring to the bank the card was issued from at first, but then I realized she meant the card in general. She explained to me how her sister in New York puts money in the bank there, and then calls my host mom, who then takes it out of the ATM machine here. It's the hottest new technology here.

Adapting Quickly

written Thursday, March 29, 2007


We had fish and salad for dinner again tonight. Fish with the fish heads still attached, of course. And whereas last time I spent at least half an hour stressing about whether I would get sick from salad washed in untreated water and being grossed out by fish heads, this time I just thought, Mmm, looks good. I'm hungry.

And it was good, and I ate a lot. We'll see if I'm sick in the morning. Right now, though, I'm thinking that even if I get sick, it will have been worth it, it was so yummy. Of course in the morning I might change my mind about that.

Two Week Anniversary

written Thursday, March 29, 2007


Today I have been in Senegal two weeks. It feels like three months. I am getting used to speaking in a combination of French, Mandinka, Wolof, and English all the time, to sleeping under a mosquito net (which I like but some other volunteers find claustrophobic), to using squat toilets, and to the food. Although I have to admit I am pretty sick of eating fish and rice, and would be willing to pay about a million dollars for a nice bowl of cereal with normal milk. But once I get to my village hopefully I will have a little more control over what I eat.

I think our lack of control and decision-making power is one of the hardest things all of us volunteers are dealing with right now. We don't get to decide for ourselves what to eat, when to eat, when to go out, what to wear (for girls, no tank tops and no showing the knees), or pretty much anything else. Peace Corps and our families make all the decisions for us.

So it's been an adjustment, and I'm still working on it. I find the idea of beng committed to being here for two years completely overwhelming. But to be fair, I find the idea of being committed to being anywhere for two years freaky. (I never intended to stay in D.C. so long, although now of course I miss it a lot). So I'm trying not to think about the next two years, and to focus instead on this: do I want to be in Senegal today? Yes. Do I expect to still want to be here tomorrow? Yes. I think that has to be enough for now.