written Tuesday, 10 July 2007
Last night it rained, and this morning when I woke up it was still drizzly and gray - what in the US I would have described as gloomy. But after months of nothing but bright, sunny days, this morning's weather seems just beautiful to me. (And it doesn't hurt that with the cooler air I slept better last night than I have in weeks, in spite of having to get up in the middle of the night when the rain started to relocate from my outside bed to my inside bed).
written Monday, 9 July 2007
I talked with my counterpart recently about the very low level of girls' education in the village and throughout Senegal. He said of course part of the problem is money - if a family can't afford to educate all the children, then preference is almost always given to the boys. But he said it is also because families worry that if a girl is educated, she is more likely to refuse to marry the person her parents choose for her, particularly if the chosen husband is less educated than she is. Educated women are also less attractive as wives to many men because they are less likely to let the man be the uncontested boss of the house, as he is traditionally supposed to be. Not surprising informatiion, but it still depressed me.
But I was cheered up when my sister who just had the baby and who never went to school, told me taht she wants all her kids (including the girl) to go to university. I hope they do.
written Monday, 9 July 2007
A few weeks ago I was in a neighboring small town at the market and saw another toubab - a girl around my age wearing a pagne like the local women wear, so probably not a tourist. I wondered what she was doing there and if she might be living in the area, and she clearly noticed me too.
I couldn't make up my mind whether to go talk to her or not - it seems tantamount to saying, "Hey, you're white like me! Let's be friends!" As if that meant we would automatically have more in common with each other than with the Senegalese. But then it also seems weird to ignore each other.
In the end, we said hi, but that was it. What is the correct protocol for these situations?
written Monday, 9 July 2007
I'm getting very restless, tired of having nothing to do every day but sit around and talk with people. I'm still learning a lot from my conversations, but I wish I had a project to work on so that at the end of the day I could feel that I had accomplished something more than just having talked to X number of people.
written Sunday, 8 July 2007
The last time I went up to Tamba I got miserably sick with stomach troubles after I'd been there just a day. At first I thought it was because I'd overeaten on all the lovely food available in Tamba - spaghetti, peas, hamburgers, beans... And I was so sad, thinking that my stomach just couldn't handle non-village food anymore.
But almost a week later I was still sick, so the Peace Corps Medical Officer put me on antibiotics, which fixed me right up. Which means that I really did eat something bad, and not just too much food that my stomach isn't used to anymore. Which means I don't have to give up eating hamburgers and chawarmas when I go to Tamba!
I think this is the first time I have ever been happy to have had food poisoning.
written Friday, 6 July 2007
written Tuesday, 26 June 2007
I found out today how my village got its (two) names. Originally a woodcarver settled here with his family, because there are a lot of trees here (for Senegal, anyway) and it is close to the river, so it was an ideal location for carving pirogues (like canoes) and other things and then sending them down the river. So the area here came to be known as what translates to "the woodcarver's place".
But eventually the woodcarver moved away, and the place was uninhabited for a while, until my host family moved here from a nearby village in search of more land to farm. They renamed the area "New Medina" (after Medina in Saudi Arabia where the Prophet Muhammad was born - there are gazillions of Medina Somethings in Senegal). But everyone still knows the village as "the woodcarver's place".
written Tuesday, 26 June 2007
Yesterday was the baptism of my host sister's new baby. The celebration lasted all day. The highlights: the women spend most of the day cooking, talking, and singing traditional songs, while the men are more involved in the ritual, religious aspects: prayers, sacrificing sheep, and naming the baby.
They named her Tigidanke, which is the first time I've heard that name. Apparently it was the name of some important woman in the history of Islam. Anyway, it sounds to me a lot like the Jaxanke word for peanut butter, tigo dekko. So I've started calling her Peanut Butter as a nickname.
Since they sacrificed a sheep, we had meat for lunch, approximately one bite per person (plus lots of rice, of course). I was allotted something shaped like a tube which I suspect was a piece of intestine. I didn't want to be rude and refuse it, so I ate it. In case you are wondering: it wasn't as gross as you might think, but I would definitely prefer not to repeat the experience.
In the afternoon the baby's head was shaved, which I think is like the Catholic sprinkling of the baby with waterr - it is supposed to symbolize the baby becoming a Muslim.
After dinner there was dancing (to cassette tapes on a boom box powered by a car battery), but I didn't stay long because all the "party food" had left me feeling a little sick.
written Monday, 25 June 2007
I was at another meeting yesterday of the village health volunteers, who have decided to create a formal association - mainly in hopes of being able to get money from NGOs. Anyway, a couple of funny things I noticed:
No matter how many times a group has met and in spite of everyone knowing everyone else, meetings must always start with a ten minute discussion of what language to conduct the meeting in.
Although all the meeting attendees were local villagers (except for me) with probably only middle-school level educations, if even that, they really like giving long, formal speeches - i.e. thanks to everyone for coming, I'm so glad to be here, I think this is a really important meeting, here is my position on the issues.... I felt like I was back at the UN meetings I used to go to when I was interning with the State Department.
written Monday, 25 June 2007
Yesterday my village held a ceremony at the mosque to pray for rains and a good harvest. Unfortunately, like all the religious ceremonies (at least all that I've experienced so far), it was men only, so I didn't get to see anything. They did tell me, though, that they sacrificed a sheep.
written Friday, 22 June 2007
...because I just can't say no. So much for all my hard thinnking about whether helping out financially is a good idea. One of my good friends in the village asked me yesterday if I would like him 50,000 CFA (about $100 - a lot of money here, and lot of money for me on my Peace Corps allowance) so that he could afford to cultivate more land this year. Apparently the field is all ready to be planted, but he doesn't have the money for the seeds, fertilizer, etc.
I gave him the money. I let him know that it's a lot of money for me too - and actually I haven't given it all to him yet - I will have to go to the bank in Tamba, as I don't keep that kind of money lying around in the village. I don't really expect him to pay it back. I am hoping that this money will at the very least allow his family to eat a little better for the coming year, and at best he will be able to sell enough of what he grows to be able to cultivate more land next year without a loan, and gradually be able to improve his whole economic situation.
I know that's being very optimistic, and there's a good chance that the money won't have any long-term effect at all. And also that the loan could cause me problems, if other people find out about it and want loans too, which I just can't afford.
All the other volunteers I've talked to about this say they basically never give people money or buy them things, other than their contribution to their host families' groceres, because it will cause problems. Maybe my approach has been tried in the past, and it was a disaster, and that's why no one does it anymore. But just maybe everyone has assumed it will be a disaster and not even tried it; and maybe it will turn out well.
Either way, I think Peace Corps is the time for me to try things out and make mistakes and learn. I want to try to learn more about microfinance.
written Thursday, 21 June 2007
I was complaining today about ants in my hut (because one bit me on the foot, and I wanted to find out how to get rid of them), and I was told that when the ants are all out, scurrying around to get food to take back to the ant hills, it means it's going to rain.
I was also told that if you look at what kind of grain the ants are carrying - rice, corn, or millet - that is the crop you should grow that year because if the ants are storing it that means it will grow really well.
written Thursday, 21 June 2007
Today for lunch we had something new: "satoo", which is basically grits with a peanut sauce. Sounds weird, but it was pretty good. I liked it better than the maffe (rice with fishy tasting peanut sauce) that we usually have for lunch.
And just to clarify a bit, in spite of the fact that there are only about five ingredients in village food (rice, corn, peanuts, onions, and "Jumbo" - a bouillon cube used in everything for flavor - plus fish or sheep/goat once in a while), all the dishes taste completely different. The peanut sauces for lunch and dinner are different (dinner is better) and the corn in the breakfast "moono" porridge, lunch "satoo", and dinner "futoo" all have different textures and taste different.
Anyway, I was wondering if the change in the lunch menu means that my family can't afford rice anymore. It is the beginning of the planting season now, which means it is also the beginning of the hungry season, as people begin to run out of what they harvested last year. I've been told that it's getting harder to find peanuts and corn to buy, because no one is willing to sell what little they have.
I am not sure how this fits with my family running out of rice while they still have corn to eat, since they raise the corn themselves but have to buy the rice (rice is grown in some parts of Senegal, but what I have seen here is all imported from Thailand), but I am going to try to find out what's going on.
written Thursday, 21 June 2007
I have been told that all the fields around the nearby town where the weekly market is held used to be a plantation belonging to a white man which grew some sort of fiber for making sacks (cotton?), and the local people were forced to work there without pay (aka slavery). When Senegal became independent in 1960 (or 1961? I can't remember) the plantation owner was going to have to start paying his workers, so he couldn't make a profit anymore and went out of business.
written Thursday, 21 June 2007
My host sister had her baby on Monday (while I was in Tamba, so I didn't see any childbirth stuff). The baby is a girl, and she will be given a name at her baptism on Monday, seven days after the birth.
So far at least, she has very light skin, so some of the women were joking that she must be my baby. Her mom was quick to point out, though, that her hair is much darker than mine - so I can't have her!
written Thursday, 21 June 2007
While I was in Tamba for a few days staying at the Peace Corps regional house, I watched a few episodes of the HBO series Big Love, a show about a fictional polygamous Mormon family, on DVD with some other volunteers. I'd seen one or two episodes in the US before coming here, and as I was watching it I was struck by how much the show is based on the assumption that the audience will find polygamy to be bizarre and possibly wrong or repugnant. The show made me realize how much I have gotten used to polygamy here, so it just doesn't seem like a big deal to me at all (although still not for me).
written Saturday, 16 June 2007
Today at lunch my host sisters asked me if I know about the village in the sky. At first I thought they were talking about heaven, but they said no, they mean a real village, with people and huts and sheep and donkeys. They said a previous volunteer had told them about it.
I'm guessing that the previous volunteer had been trying to talk to them about space travel, or the international space station, or maybe even the possibility of life on other planets. I could have tried to explain space travel to them, or maybe talked with them about whether they believe in aliens, but they have been giving me a really hard time lately, laughing at my toubab ridiculousness, so I just took the opportunity to really enjoy laughing at them and their village in the sky for once. (They weren't offended).
written Saturday, 16 June 2007
Today one of my villagers told me a Mandinka proverb: No matter how long a tree trunk is in the water, it can never become a crocodile.
He was laughing at my bad Mandinka at the time, so I think that what he meant is that I will never be fluent. But I am happy to speak pidgin Mandinka that everyone laughs at, as long as I get to the point where I can make myself understood easily.
written Friday, 15 June 2007
If my village had a newspaper, this is what would be in it:
My "security incident" is still the most exciting thing to have happened here for a long time, it seems. Nearly every day someone asks me if I have seen the guy again or assures me that he will be caught, or that he has left the village for good (the person everyone in the village suspects hasn't come back to the village since just after the incident).
We got the first really heavy rain two nights ago, and the next day thouosands of little flying bugs were popping out of the ground everywhere. They are attracted to light, so we had to eat in the dark last night so they wouldn't all get in our food. (Although with no light to see by, I think there's a good chance we ate a few). My counterpart says that in the time of his grandparents, people used to use lights to attract the bugs to bowls of water, where they'd drown, and then they would cook and eat them. But they don't do it anymore, and he says he himself has never eaten them (at least not on purpose). He promises me that they will disappear in a day or two. Right now there are so many landing on the roof of my hut that it sounds like it is raining.
written Friday, 15 June 2007
Today my counterpart explained to me some of the cultural/religious beliefs here: the word "bisimillah", which is used in the Koran, comes directly from God, he says. If you say it before eating a meal (like we might say "bon apetit") you will be protected even if the food is bad or poisoned. - Although "protected" only means it won't kill you. Vomiting, diarrhea, etc mean that the protection is working to get the bad stuff out of your system.
If you say "bisimillah" before going on a journey, you will come back safe. And if you say it before going to sleep you will only have nice dreams.
He also showed me the "gris-gris" that he wears on his arm - a small leather pouch which contains words from the Koran. Wearing it protects him from evil and bad things happening.
Gris-gris are made by marabouts, a kind of religious leader (I still am not clear on the difference between marabouts and imams). The secrets to making gris-gris are passed down from marabouts to their children, so they stay in the family. (My counterpart said it is like taking your car to a mechanic - the mechanic will fix it, but he won't show you how to fix it yourself because he wants you to come back and give him more business. I thought it was funny that he would take such a pragmatic approach to religion).
This led to a discussion about castes. In Mandinka society, he told me, there are three castes: the marabout caste, which my host family belongs to, who are religious and political leaders; the nomad caste, which is sub-divided into trades - my counterpart belongs to the metalworker/blacksmith caste group; and the slave caste, which practices sorcery based on pre-Islamic animist beliefs.
I asked him if people don't think it is wrong to mix animist practices with Islam; he said that Senegal is not like Arab countries - here it is no problem to mix elements of different religions, to marry someone of a different religion, or to convert religions. I am still trying to figure out what this means in terms of how important religion is in society here.
