Help the Dialacoto Health Workers Association

It seems that I have left Senegal, but Senegal has not yet left me.  A "Peace Corps Partnership Project" which I had been working on since last August with my volunteer neighbor Hawa Ba has finally been approved.  Which means that the Powers That Be in Peace Corps have decided that it's a worthwhile project, posted it online, and we can now solicit funds for it from friends, family, and the public. 

A little background: Peace Corps Partnerships is one of the primary ways for Volunteers to get funding for projects.  It's supposed to be a little more formal and legit than Volunteers just asking their friends and family to send them money - the project has to be vetted by Peace Corps to ensure it's a good project, and all donations are tax-deductible, like giving to any charity.  This particular project is to help a Health Workers Association in the Dialacoto area where my village is located, get some supplies to extend their health education, sanitation, and income generating projects.  The funds will go toward getting each member of the association a bicycle to use to travel to villages in the area where they work (which especially benefits the women members, by the way, as they are the least likely to own or have access to a bicycle), and to buying supplies like shovels and rakes, which will be used to keep the villages clean and for gardening activities like the mango orchard they started last year.  You can read more details about the project here. 

I didn't start working on this project until I'd been in my village for over a year because I wanted to make sure that any big projects that I did would be things that would really be useful and would benefit the community.  And I wanted the idea for a project to come from someone in the community, rather from me, in order to ensure that it was something people really wanted.  So this project was finally proposed to me last August by the president of the Health Workers Association, and the Association is contributing 25% of the funds for the project, so I feel pretty confident that this is something that people really want and that will be useful.

So that is my spiel.  Please consider contributing whatever you feel comfortable with. 

Back to America!

After a week of much paperwork, running around, and stress in Dakar, last Friday night it was finally time for me to go to the airport, hop on a plane, and come home to the U.S.  I got lucky in that an American woman I'm friends with who works at the embassy in Dakar was flying to the U.S. the same night, so we went to the airport together.  Everyone there knows her because she flies so often, so she gets VIP treatment, not having to stand in lines with the masses.  And since I was with her, I got the VIP treatment too!  Someone came over and told me to give him my  passport and he would take care of everything, which he did.  It made the whole experience so much more survivable, especially since it was 3 am and I was exhausted.  The flight was fine, except that Delta's "dinner" meal (served at about 4 am Dakar time) was ham sandwiches.  On a flight from a country that is 95% Muslim!  A woman across the aisle from me complained, and the stewardess (or air hostess, or whatever you're supposed to call them) told her she should have ordered a special meal ahead of time.  That made me kind of mad.  On a flight from a Muslim country a non-pork meal should not be considered a special request!  I didn't specially request not to be served monkey eyeball soup, (a la Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom), but I was still be pretty shocked if they had served it on a flight to America, especially as the only meal option.

Okay, enough ranting about Delta's cultural insensitivity.  I'm back in America  now, and everything seems pretty normal, not too much culture shock, except: all the electronic noise! Heating fans, TVs, kitchen timers, phones ringing... sitting inside my friend's apartment, all these background noises that I would never have noticed before are making me feel like I am inside a bomb that's about to go off.  And it's very hard to concentrate.  I used to be an excellent multi-tasker, but now everything is distracting me so I can't pay attention to anything for more than half a second, so I can't keep up with conversations, and I am feeling lost and confused...  But I have confidence I will get used to all this again, and everything will be fine.  Inshallah!

Goodbye, Tambacounda

Yesterday I made the 10-hour Tamba-to-Dakar trip for the very last time (not counting possible trips back to visit someday). Everyone keeps asking me how it feels to have left my village, to know that I may never again see people who have been my family and friends for the past two years. The truth is, I don't know. I think I should be feeling really sad about saying goodbye to them all and to the incredible life I have been living for the last two years. Probably I will feel that eventually, maybe on the plane home, maybe later. But right now mostly I just feel relieved to have gotten the stressful goodbyes over and to finally be released from the never-ending village guilt.

And I wish I could say that my village goodbyes had gone well, that they were heartwarming and had left me with a warm fuzzy feeling. I wish that they had been. Instead, when I told my villagers it was my last week, all I got was people coming to my hut or pulling me aside to tell me, "When you leave, I want you to give me x. Okay?  Don't forget!  I've got dibs!"  The closest I got to anything like an "I'll miss you" was my host mother saying "What am I going to do when you're gone? We're not getting another volunteer after you, so who's going to give me money for going to the doctor and buying spices?"

After a couple days of that, I just couldn't take it anymore.  All I'd wanted was to have some quality time in my village, doing normal village things with my friends and family.  But except for the kids, who were adorable as always, I couldn't enjoy anyone's company because all they wanted to talk about was what presents I would give them.  So I decided it was time to leave, before the goodbyes could turn me bitter about my whole Peace Corps experience.  So I told my village I had to change plans and leave in the morning, instead of two days later as I had originally planned.  And then I finally got the nice goodbyes.  I invited my sisters over to my hut after dinner, planning to tell them that they could divide up all the stuff in my hut among themselves.  So they came over, but instead of immediately looking over my stuff and arguing over who got what as I had expected them to do, they just sat on my bed and wanted to talk.  So I ended up having a really nice last evening with my sisters, which made up a lot for the last couple of days.  And then in the morning I got up and biked out of the village before anyone was up (as I had told them I was planning to do) so there wouldn't be any chance for my nice goodbye to be ruined by more "gimme gimme".

So I guess the way my service ended was pretty typical of my whole experience in Senegal: lots of stress and frustration, with some really nice moments thrown in to make it all worth it.  

Rescuing the devil cat baby

When I arrived back in my village for the last time, after my very long trip to Thies and Dakar and America, I was greeted, as usual, with chants of “Khadija came! Khadija came!” and then the various kids I am friends with ran over and insisted on rolling my bike into my hut for me and sweeping out my hut and yard.

This time they decided to do a very thorough cleaning of my yard, so they tilted up my rotten, termite-infested outside bed to rake out underneath it as well. And there they discovered three adorable, tiny kittens, which looked exactly like the devil-cat that was once the bane of my existence, so I am sure they are her children. I should clarify, though: to me, the kittens looked adorable; to the kids helping clean up my hut, apparently they looked like evil monsters which must be immediately exterminated before they are able to carry out their dastardly plan to destroy the universe. I know this because immediately the kids started screaming, chasing after the cats, throwing things at them, and one child even tried to stomp on them. Which made me think of serial killers – don't they, as children, supposedly enjoy torturing and killing small animals? Probably this is a cultural thing that does not translate, though. At least I really hope so, or else a good proportion of my village kids are growing up to be serial killers.

Two of the kittens managed to run into the inside room of my hut, where the kids know they are not allowed to go. They asked me if I wanted to make an exception and let them in, just this once, so that they could de-monsterify my hut for me; I declined. The other kitten had escaped under my fence, out into the village somewhere. Or so I thought, until a while later when I was taking my bucket shower and heard a meowing somewhere around. At first I thought it was somewhere on the other side of the fence, crying because it couldn't find its brother and sister (still hiding behind a cardboard box in my hut). Eventually I realized, though, that the sound was coming from underneath me, from the pit of my latrine. The kitten must have fallen (or jumped) down the poop hole when the kids were chasing it.

This realization made me very sad. There was no way it would be able to climb out, which meant it would die down there, and probably I would have to listen to it cry and die slowly over the next few days. I considered the options: lower a bucket down the poop hole, somehow lure the cat into it, and haul it up? But the hole is too small for a bucket. Break the concrete floor of the latrine to make a bigger hole? Not very feasible, and anyway falling concrete would probably end up falling on the kitten and kill it. Throw some rat poison down the hole, so at least the cat would die quicker and hopefully less painfully? If I couldn't think of any other options, then yes.

But first I decided to go see if my friend Mamadou had any ideas. Given the kids' reactions to the kittens, I wasn't expecting a lot of sympathy from him for the cat's situation, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to try. Sure enough, he had an idea: we could lower a pole down the hole which the cat could then climb up. So we tried that, but none of the poles were long enough to reach the bottom of the pit. So then we attached two poles together with wire, and this time it was long enough. But I didn't hear the cat trying to climb it. Mamadou said the cat was probably just too scared and we should go away and leave it alone for a while, and then the cat would come out. So we went.

But when I came back later to check, the cat was still down there. I thought the pole was probably too narrow and hard for the cat to get its claws into, so I pulled the pole back out of the hole, found a big rope, and wrapped it around and around the pole, so that the cat would have something to stick its claws into. Then I put the pole back down the hole. This time the cat immediately jumped onto it and started climbing up. Soon it was out.

When I told this story later to other Volunteers, their first question was, “So then you adopted the kitten, right?” I will admit that I thought about it – after all, I'd saved its life. Seems like it must be meant to be my pet. But then I thought, what? Adopt a feral, poop-covered kitten, when I have only a few days left to live in the village? Get it all used to humans, so when I leave it will be an easier target for the possibly-future-serial-killer children? I don't think so.

So the cat ran off, and I never saw it again. But I like to imagine that it cleaned the poop off itself (although I don't like to imagine the actual process of it using its tongue to lick the poop off its body!), and found a nice, happy place to live. And hopefully will grow up to be something nicer than its mother the devil-cat.

Parade for Hu Jintao

While I was in Dakar in February, my friends and I happened upon a parade to welcome Hu Jintao (and more Chinese money) to Senegal. Some photos from the event:

I had to fight off about five Senegalese women to get this shirt (they were throwing them into the crowd):

Amerik!

A few quick observations from my first time back in America after almost two years:

1. America is freezing, freezing cold.
2. The food is amazing. I ate broccoli, cooked various ways, every day for a week. (Also I ate a lot of other stuff, none of which was rice or peanuts!)
3. Hot showers are very, very nice.
4. Technology has progressed so much in the last two years. And I want it all.
5. Malls are nice. There are lots of pretty things, and you can look at them, even try things on, without people getting in your face trying to sell them to you. But things are expensive. I missed being able to bargain on prices with the salespeople.
6. American refrigerators have so much food in them I almost went into shock.
7. Traveling in America is amazing. You get a whole seat to yourself, and there are seatbelts, and the vehicles have shocks, and there are a minimal number of potholes in the roads.
8. Where are the talibe begger children to eat my leftovers?
9. Why aren't strangers on the street or in the metro talking to me, asking me personal questions like whether I have a husband? I miss them.

So after two weeks in America I was ready to come back to Senegal, but now I miss all the nice things that are there. (And of course it was nice seeing my family and friends!)

I got a job!

I'm afraid it's been approximately forever, or exactly one month, since I last managed to post. Apologies to all the millions anxiously awaiting my pearls of wisdom.

Anyway, I have had a good reason for not posting. Which is, that I've been incredibly busy and also didn't want to say too much about what was going on until I knew how it was going to turn out. But now it's done, so I will tell:

Way back last June-ish I applied for a dream job: Crisis, Stabilization, and Governance Officer in the USAID (U.S. Agency for International Development, which is like grown-up Peace Corps) foreign service. But months went by and I never heard anything, so I kinda gave up on it. Then just before Christmas I received an email saying that they wanted me to come to Washington, D.C. for an interview. Very exciting! There was lots of paperwork that had to be done beforehand, so I had to give up my planned Christmas vacation to Mali and instead go to Dakar. Not going to Mali was a big disappointment, but definitely worth it for the possibility of an amazing job. Plus, who knows, maybe I'll have another chance to go to Mali someday.

So I got all my paperwork done in Dakar over Christmas, then went back to my village for a short time to do the girls' leadership camp that Hawa Ba and I had been planning for a long time. Then it was back up to Thies and Dakar, and then flying to America for my interview. I had two days to get my hair cut, get some interview clothes, and in general to make myself civilized and presentable for the interview. Then there was the interview, which lasted two days, during which I struggled to remember how to speak proper English using words over two syllables long.

I didn't think the interview went that great, but at least it got me back to America for the first time in two years. Afterwards I flew to Tennessee to see my family, which was very nice, and then after a week of eating non-stop and complaining about the cold American weather it was time to come back to Senegal and anxiously wait to find out if I got the job.

Which I finally heard about on Friday: someone called me on my cell phone and said "Congratulations...crackle crackle...continuing...crackle crackle... pre-employment process." Took me a little while to decode, but I finally realized: I got the job!!! It's contingent on getting security and medical clearances, so not quite in the bag yet, but hopefully it won't take too long for all of that to get worked out.

In the meantime, I've got until March 15 to finish up Peace Corps...

Trying to break some future wives

This past weekend Hawa Ba, Sira Sanokho, and I did some "girls' empowerment" (i.e. wife-breaking, to the Senegalese) activities at the middle school in our region.  It was really stressful, especially when we showed up at the school on Thursday (two days before our events were supposed to happen) to reconfirm everything with the school principal, only to find out he had gone off to Dakar for vacation and had done none of the things he had promised to do to get things ready.  (I have not yet forgiven him, probably never will).  But luckily the teachers at the school were really nice and willing to help out, so we were able to make the activities happen anyway.

First, Saturday afternoon as the kids were getting out of class for the day, we had a ceremony to recognize the girls who had the top grades in each class.  We gave a little speech about how the education of girls is important for the development of the country, and how these girls have worked really hard and should be congratulated on their achievements.  The whole idea, of course, being to boost the girls' self-esteem and encourage other girls to stay in school and study hard too.

Then that evening we showed a film (made by Peace Corps volunteers!) in the middle of Dialacoto about the importance of girls staying in school and getting an education.  There weren't that many girls who were able to come watch it (since we had to show it after dark and it's not really safe for them to be out by themselves at night), but there were tons of boys and men watching, which I think is also a good thing.


Then on Sunday the Peace Corps Cross-Cultural Trainer, who also does a lot of work with Senegalese girls, came from Thies to talk to our girls about staying in school and how to deal with common challenges Senegalese girls face.  The girls were really quiet for her whole talk, so we worried a little bit that they weren't finding it very interesting, but at the end when they were asked for a second time what they wanted to be when they grew up, one of the girls changed her original answer, a teacher, to a trainer who will teach women to know who they are, which is what our speaker had told the girls her job was.  So I think maybe it really made a difference to them after all.

That was my last big activity that I had planned before the end of my Peace Corps service (coming up frighteningly soon!), so it was really nice to finish on such a good note.

Happy holidays

The last day I was in Thies for Operation Smile I got an email inviting me for an interview for a job I had applied for, way back over six months ago. So I came up to Dakar to do some paperwork, and I've been really busy trying to get ready for the interview (which I'm trying not to get my hopes up about - I'll say more if I get the job). But I did find some time over Christmas and New Year's to have some fun, so here are some pictures for you to enjoy!

Just before Christmas, the nice American expat whose house I've been staying at in Dakar took us to Keur Moussa monastery to see an interesting fusion of traditional Catholic mass with African music, and afterward we went to Bandia Nature Reserve, where we saw


giraffes!


ostriches!


warthogs!


monkeys!


horse antelope!


and rhinos!

Then for New Year's, Mariama and I went to St. Louis, where we


rode horses on the beach! (Which I've always wanted to do).

And then we went to this weird place called Lompoul, which is a mini-desert in the middle of Senegal, and we


rode camels!

Overall, an excellent, excellent last holiday in Senegal!  Happy (very late) holidays, everyone!

Maybe the best thing I've done in my entire life

This is Adama. He lives in a village about 40 km away from mine. I saw him once when I was in his village to do some health education activities, and then coincidentally just a short time after that I got an email about an NGO called Operation Smile coming to Senegal to do free operations on kids with cleft lips and cleft palates.

So once I had all the information about Operation Smile, I decided to go back to his village to talk to his family about taking him to Thies to get the operation. I knew they probably wouldn't have the money for the car ticket up there (about $20 one way, per person), so I decided if they couldn't afford it I would just pay for it myself.

So I went to his village and talked to his mom, Fili. She said they'd taken Adama to the hospital in Tamba when he was a baby, but they couldn't do anything for him there, and his father is deceased and he has seven brothers and sisters, and the family can't afford to do anything else. And his mom has never been farther away from her village than Tamba, which is about a four hour car ride away. But we talked it over, and finally agreed that if Fili's older brother, who lives in Tamba, agreed, then I would take Adama, his mom Fili, and baby sister Penda (who is still breastfeeding and so has to stay with her mom) up to Thies to see if he could get the operation.

So we went up to Thies, along with my friend Mariama Keita, who was going to help out as a translator at the hospital. It was a pretty stressful few days for me, being responsible for a family who've never been out of Tamba and who only speak Mandinka, which hardly anyone in Thies speaks. Poor little Adama was scared about the operation and kept asking his mom when they could go back to their village.

But in the end, it all worked out great: Adama got his operation, everyone was happy, and after a few days they got to go back home.



The day after the operation, when Adama was released from the hospital, I took the family to spend the day with my Thies host family, who also speak Mandinka, because I thought they'd be more comfortable there (plus my host mom is an amazing cook). At one point it occurred to me that Adama probably hadn't seen his new face in a mirror yet, so I offered him a little compact from my purse. He took it over to the doorway for better light, and then just stared at his face for about two minutes.

Then when we were at the garage in Thies waiting for our car to be ready to go to Tamba, Adama said that he wanted to spend the 1000 CFA ($2) that my Thies host mom gave him for the trip on buying sunglasses and a mirror. So Mariama and I helped him buy those things from the vendors wandering around the garage. So then Adama was all spiffed up and ready to go back to his village and impress his friends with his new look:

I can't think of anything better I've done in my entire life than taking Adama to get that operation. I just wish I was going to be in Senegal long enough to see him when his face is completely healed up.

My ancestors are Pulaars!

Written Wednesday, 26 November 2008

 

 

On my way up to the Futa, the northern, really Sahel edge-of-the-desert part of Senegal, to visit a friend and celebrate Thanksgiving, we passed a village called Semme.  Which is what my family's last name was, hundreds of years ago when my ancestors immigrated to America.

 

Which leads me to think that maybe my ancestors were Pulaar!  Or, a little more seriously, maybe relatives of my ancestors colonized this part of Senegal!

 

Or, much more probably but also much less interestingly, maybe semme is a word in Pulaar that I don't know, and it has nothing to do with my family.  But I like my first explanation the best.

Universal experience

Written Saturday, 22 November 2008

 

 

I just finished reading a book about a (Canadian version of Peace Corps) volunteer in Bhutan.  It's funny to read about someone in such a different place and discover that our experiences have been almost exactly the same – the strangeness of the place at arrival, being scared of weird diseases and parasites, thinking you'll never find anything in common to talk about with the locals… and then gradually, gradually getting so comfortable that it's America that begins to seem like the alien place, and how will I ever fit in there again?

 

So when I got to the middle of the book I found myself anxious to find out what happened as if it would tell me how things are going to turn out for me here.  But at the end in the story the volunteer gets married to a local Bhutanese man and has a baby, and that is definitely not what I'm going to do.

 

So I guess I'm just going to have to figure out the next six months for myself.

Letter to President Obama from the villagers of Cour Bambey

Written Friday, 14 November 2008

 

 

Here is the letter composed by the villagers of Cour Bambey (which I also emailed to Obama on his campaign website):

 

13 November 2008

 

Dear Mr. President Obama,

 

The day of the 13th of November is the world day of the celebration of Obama.  We are behind you.  You touch us in our hearts.  All of the population of Cour Bambey is very happy and congratulates you on your victory.  Before we did not know you, but you have touched our hearts and it is as if we are all in America.

 

The population is ready to invite you to Cour Bambey, which is found 47 kilometers from Tambacounda.  We want development, including natural resources, education, health, potable water, water towers and faucets, and above all we want a strong relationship between our village and America.  Cour Bambey is in the locality of Sinthian Coundara in the region of Kolda.

 

We wish you much success with your work, that you work hard and listen well to the people of America.  We ask that you help the women with their gardening projects.  And above all we hope that you bring peace in the world.  The economic crisis hits us here too – the rice and gas are very expensive.  You must help us.  In the village here, there is no one in America.  Help us to send two or three people to go to America to see the conditions there.

 

Now we understand American democracy thanks to Peace Corps.  We really hope that in Cour Bambey it continues to have much success.  Thank you very much for having sent us Mariama Keita (Holly Packard), who has given us a party.  And also Khadija Tandian (Rebecca Semmes).  They have done a lot to help us.

 

We were not able to vote on paper for Obama, but we have voted for you in our hearts.  We all greet you.  We are very tired with work, but we all greet you and we hope that you can help us to be less tired.

 

Sincerely,

 

The People of Cour Bambey

Obama victory party in Cour Bambey

Written Friday, 14 November 2008

 

 

Yesterday my friend "Mariama Keita" and I held an Obama victory party in Mariama's village, and then we decided to write an article for Sabaar, Peace Corps Senegal's volunteer-run newsletter, about it.  Here is the article:

 

Senegalese Villagers Sacrifice Goat for Obama

 

Cour Bambey, Senegal – In celebration of the election of America's first sorta-black president, the villagers of Cour Bambey sacrificed a scrawny goat, danced to Beach Boys music, and wrote a letter inviting their quasi-African brother to visit the village.

 

The fete was first conceived one sleepless, sweltering night sitting around the radio.  PCV Holly Packard vowed that if Senator Obama won on election night, she would provide livestock and dance tunes to celebrate.  Since this required no effort on their part and could result in meat in the bowl, the villagers were vraiment d'accord, quoi.

 

So when the election results were finally announced in the wee hours of the morning November 5, the Cour Bambeyans' joy in the renewed proof of democracy and equality in America was augmented by the knowledge that they would soon be getting some good eatin'.

 

True to her word, PCV Packard and her trusty accomplice PCV Rebecca Semmes rolled up on their metal horses a few days later with all the party fixins.  (PCV Mary O'Brien was supposed to complete the celebratory trifecta, but she didn't come because she hates freedom).  Strapped to the backs of overloaded velos were ten kilos of vegetables, six bottles of bubbles (generously donated by PCV Tracy MacDonald), various decorative Obama paraphernalia, and some tunes with a tiny, tiny speaker.

 

The smallish goat chosen to be sacrificed on the alter of American democracy sat tied to a post, anticipating the outcome of its glorious martyrdom. (70 virgin lady goats?)  The villagers spent the day dancing to the sounds of the '60s and extolling the virtues of America and its first sorta-kinda-black president elect.

 

PCV Packard, unwilling to lose even one day in her mission to develop the shit out of Senegal, continued her work as a playground extension agent by teaching the children how to blow bubbles.  Terrified at first, the kiddies soon acclimated to the wondrous new game, and then started a small riot in their quest to pop as many bubbles as possible.

 

PCV Semmes recorded the event for posterity and the Sabaar using her mad photography skills, and then aided the village elders in composing a congratulatory letter to President-Elect Obama with her incroyable orthographic abilities.

 

Through no fault of PCVs Packard and Semmes or of the Beach Boys, lunch wasn't ready until 7 p.m. (It is unclear at this time whether fault lies with freedom-hating PCV O'Brien).  When lunch was finally served, it was met by enthusiastic chants of "O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!"  After the meal, the village men adjourned to the mosque to pray for the success and long life of the new American President.

 

Their mission of spreading democracy and freedom to the people of Cour Bambey accomplished, PCVs Packard and Semmes retired to Packard's hut for a celebratory meal of instant mashed potatoes and lukewarm Tang.  At the late late hour of 8 p.m., they closed their eyes, full of starch, Jadida, and the sense of a job well done.

Election reactions

I've been in Dakar this week for meetings, so Tuesday night I was able to go to an expat election party in town.  I wanted to stay up all night and watch the election, but I just didn't make it.  (Plus I had an important meeting the next day I didn't want to be too exhausted for).

 

So I went to bed around 2:30 am, by which time Obama was significantly ahead, but it still wasn't a sure thing.  I happened to wake up sometime between 4:00 and 5:00, so I quickly checked the computer, saw that Obama won, thought "Yay!", and went back to sleep.

 

Wednesday morning I decided not to change out of my Obama t-shirt (given to me by a PCV who got a couple while on vacation in America) because I was just too happy.  So walking around the neighborhood to get breakfast and do some errands I attracted a lot of "congratulations!" and "good job!" type comments from Senegalese, plus a lot of typical "give me your shirt!" comments, which I am choosing to interpret as "I like Obama too".

 

I only met one dissenter, a security guard at the Peace Corps office who I am friends with.  He congratulated me, but said he supported McCain.  When I asked him why, his answer was basically that he likes to root for the underdog.

 

Reactions from the village coming next week (or at least, as soon after next week as I can get back to the internet).

Financial crisis in Senegal

NPR has a story about how the global financial crisis is affecting Senegal.  I haven't managed to listen to it yet (technical issues), but it's NPR, so I'm sure it's good.

Article about sexual exploitation in African schools

Here is a good article from the UN's news service about sexual exploitation in African schools - a big problem here in Senegal.

Video about girls' education in Senegal

Now available on the web: a (really great) documentary created by Peace Corps Volunteers about girls' education in Senegal.  It's called "Elle Travaille, Elle Vit" (She works, She lives); it's in French with English subtitles.  Watch it here!

Woohoo!

I am so excited about the election!!!

Potential disaster

I'm in Dakar this week for some meetings, and as usual, I was super excited about coming to Dakar for two reasons: unlimited free internet at the Peace Corps office (although it's still slow and clunky), and great food options.

 

So yesterday in pursuit of food happiness, I went to a little Indian grocery store down the street from the office and stocked up on some food to eat over the next couple days.  I got some ramen noodles, some microwavable Indian food meals, and some other odds and ends, including real milk to put in my tea (I always use powdered milk in Tamba and the village). 

 

And then I discovered that whenever I consume the milk, which tastes AMAZING and has definitely not gone bad, it upsets my stomach.  So now I am worried that in my year and a half of hardly ever having any real milk I might have become lactose intolerant.  Which would be a disaster, because having hot tea with milk is very important to my sanity.  All the other dairy stuff I could give up, but not milk in my tea. 

 

So now I am really, really hoping that this is just a temporary thing (like maybe I've got parasites again and they don't like milk) or else that I just need to get used to dairy again.  The alternative is just too sad to contemplate.