A Peace Corps Volunteer in Senegal

The Workshop (8/4/10)

2010-08-09T02:20:00.001-06:00

As I may have mentioned, the main objective of my time here in Mali has been to help the team here come up with a new baseline survey in an effort to improve the monitoring and evaluation systems they have in place. And, as a part of that process, I was going to have to go out into the field and test that survey (find out how well the questions were understood, how consistent the responses were, etc).

Well, in talking with the other members of the staff, rather than me just going out with one of the field agents to talk with some former program participants, they thought it would be a good idea to hold a workshop with representatives from all of our partner organizations. You see, Trickle Up itself doesn’t have people in the field. Rather, it contracts with other local NGOs (who know the local languages and dialects better and know the remote villages and regions better). There is a central Trickle Up staff of 7 based in Sevare (where I am). These 7 people are in charge of directing and organizing the work of 17 partner organizations who work with several thousand clients on our behalf. Thus, since it is not Trickle Up staff directly who administer the baseline surveys, they felt (and rightfully so) that it was very important to get input from all of the partners regarding the new survey as well. And, the best way to do that? Hold a three-day workshop. And, being as this new survey was largely my project, I would be the primary one responsible for planning the workshop.

In the initial discussion about this workshop, the staff wanted to do it a week later. But, when I was shocked and concerned about having to get everything ready and prepared with only a week’s time (the survey wasn’t even finished, mind you), they decided to delay by one week. I now had 2 weeks to plan this workshop. I was very busy from that point on.

I’ve planned workshops before, and I actually kind of enjoy public speaking. So, that part of it wasn’t daunting. What made me a little nervous, however, was the fact that I was going to have to do this thing in French. My French is decent. I can communicate what I need to. But, that isn’t to say that its perfect. And, coming up with the correct wording for something like a questionnaire needs a good amount of exacting. Changing even a few words can change a field agent or participant’s comprehension of what the question is asking for. So, that part made me a little nervous.

But, we planned it all out. I made a PowerPoint presentation not only as a visual aid, but also as a guide for myself (with all of the appropriate vocabulary, etc)- a cheat sheet, if you will. I also had the full support of the team here. They would jump in if need be to help clarify any points, and one of the guys was actually going to help me with some of the presenting.

Well, this workshop was just this last week. And, as a whole, I think everything went well. The presentations were well understood. And, the field test (in which we had all of the field agents go out to nearby villages and test out the survey) went well as well (it didn’t rain, alhumdulilah!). And all of the partner agencies seemed happy that we were consulting them for input (in the past, the surveys have pretty much just been given out, without considerable input from field agents). So, that was very good. All in all, I think it went very well.

Now, all I have to do is synthesize all the comments people had to give and come up with a new and improved version of the survey. A tall task considering I only have a week left in Mali. So, probably what will happen is that I will have to finish my work once I get back to NY (the Trickle Up Headquarters is in NY). I’ll be able to wrap up my work there.

The Danger of Going to Church (8/1/10)

2010-08-09T02:19:00.000-06:00

During my two years in Senegal, I never attended church services. There are many reasons for this, but, basically, I never got around to making the effort. And nor did I know others who went, so there was no social pull for me to go. However, here in Mali, one of the guys that I work with at Trickle Up, named Kodjo, invited me to go along with him and his family. So, I did.

The services last about 2 hours. Part of this is due to culture, and part is due to the fact that they conduct the service in both French and Bambara (the local language). The preacher will speak in French and then his assistant will translate into Bambara. Well, I don’t know about you all, but I can’t pay attention for 2 hours straight- especially when half of what is being said (the Bambara half) is completely unintelligible to me, and the other half requires strict concentration in order to fully understand. I’ll admit, my mind begins to wander. I can say “Amen” at the appropriate times, smile when a joke is made, etc. But, admittedly, I don’t always know what was just said to incite said response- I just follow the lead of everyone else in the church.

Well, I’ve been going to these services for the majority of my time here in Mali. And part of me has always wondered what if I’m nodding my head and saying “Amen” to something that to me, as a modern Western woman, would be insulting or otherwise morally inappropriate (this is still Africa, where gender roles, for the most part, still go unchallenged, and some cultural practices are not such that I would want to through my full-fledged support behind them)?

Well, it just so happens that I had my fears confirmed this week. After church, I had gone to spend time with Kodjo and his family, and they began debating one of the preacher’s messages. He had started out by talking about the (in his words) “two child” policy in China (in fact, it was the one child policy, but no one corrected him). He talked about how any children beyond that would be killed. Now, this part, I had understood as it was happening- it was the point in telling this story that I had missed. Apparently, he was using the immorality of killing excess children as a way to help support his message against birth control. Apparently, the preachers message was not just to go forth and prosper, but to procreate, as this was the will of God.

Well, that’s not something I would like to support. I am in full support of the freedom to use birth control when and if people wish to use it. And, in a country that already has problems supporting its burgeoning population on the land and natural resources that it has, telling people to go out and have as many babies as possible, because that’s what God wants, isn’t, in my mind, helpful. But, nonetheless, this was probably one of those times during the sermon when I nodded or said Amen along with the rest of the congregation. What else have I been “praising” or nodding my assent to, however unwittingly?

As it turns out, that was my last visit to that church. The following Sunday, my friend was to be out of town, so I didn’t have anyone to accompany me, thus I didn’t go. It does really make me wonder what other “holy messages” have been preached to my ears that would, in fact, be wholly against my own moral compass…

An Update (7/17/10)

2010-07-17T10:49:00.002-06:00

Being as I am halfway done with my time here in Mali, I should probably give an update on what I've been doing before it becomes time to come home.

Well, my work in Mali started off with a workshop run by some of the staff from the NY Headquarters of Trickle Up. It was primarily about trying to update and revamp a lot of the monitoring and evaluation systems that TU uses- how it evaluates whether or not they've been successful in effecting the change that they are aiming for. And my job for the rest of the summer is (and has beeen) helping the team here in Mali identify what exactly we need to measure and evaluate in order to know whether or not we've done the job right. Now, most people don't find monitoring and evaluation very interesting- it involves a lot of statistics, data collection, surveying methods, etc. But, I've found it quite interesting.

In my opinion (though I'm sure there are plenty out there who would like to disagree with me), there are a lot of development projects around the world that are not properly thought out. I'm not saying all. And I don't even know if I'm saying most. But, many, are not, in the end successful. For a case in point, in Ndiago (the village I lived in while I was in Senegal), an NGO came in to build sanitation facilities (ie toilets/latrines). Their great idea was to build a block of 3 or 4 public toilet stalls that could be used by the entire village. Senegalese culture is community oriented- they shouldn't have a problem sharing, the logic went. And by doing this, they could sidestep the problematic process of identifying who would get a new latrine and who wouldn't. And this way, the 4 new latrines could serve the entire community. In doing so, they could help reduce the many numbers of diarrheal diseases that continually plague villages like Ndiago. Great idea, right? Hardly.

In order to better explain the problem with this plan, I ask you a basic question: If you had to respond to the call of nature, how would you like to walk all the way to the middle of town- to the town square, in fact, where women are making their daily purchases for vegetables and condiments for cooking and where the old men are hanging out in the shade, and then have them watch you as you enter into the bathroom, do your thing, and then come back out. Would you want the entire village to know about your bathroom habits??? Hardly. And thus, people don't use them. These beautiful, well made latrines with cement walls and everything are sitting unused. Meanwhile, the well-meaning NGO working is back in their office writing up a grand report about how they just improved sanitation access for a village of 300 people, leading to a reduction in related illnesses, and potentially saving lives. The report is sent off to headquarters and donors hear about all the wonderful work the NGO is doing to improve health and sanitation in Africa. If only they knew that their well meaning project was going to waste...

And that's the problem- no one checks back up on projects to see how they are doing after the fact. And, I bet, no one asked the villagers if they would really use a public toilet in the middle of town square (the process can end up being part of the problem as well as the followup). But, that's something that is in the process of changing, across the development field. Organizations (and donors) are starting to pay more and more attention to rigourous evaluations of the work that actually gets done by international aid agencies. And, of course, this is all for the better. And, to make a long story short, that is what I'm busy working on here in Mali.

So far, we've been working on definiting a set of indicators- the things we're going to use to measure the organizations progress. This might sound simple, but its actually a pretty complicated and lengthy process. But, that is more or less complete (at least for now- all of these things will be ongoing). And now the work is focused on the creation of a new baseline survey- something that will be administered to all new program participants which will allow us to measure all of these things we've now decided we need to measure. Next (hopefully we'll be beginning this soon) will be the testing stage- seeing if the questions we picked are able to get reliable and accurate answers and if they'll be able to get us the data we need.

Though, as I say, not everyone would find this type of work interesting, I do. I hope to continue working in this area of the field in the future. Thus, despite the heat, I have been enjoying my time here in Mali. :)

A Village Visit (6/7/10)

2010-06-07T03:09:00.002-06:00

Well, I've made it to the village and back. I spent about 4 days in my old Peace Corps village. Much of the time was spent greeting people and telling them how America is (I told them Senegal is way better, but they just laughed :) ). The rest of the time was spent much the same as my days as a Peace Corps volunteer went- sitting under the trees, taking a nap after lunch and just waiting for the sun to start to set and for things to start cooling off. Much is the same back in Ndiago. The kids have grown up a bit, a couple people have died, and many babies have been born, but, other than that, everything is much the same.

The kids in my family are still as cute as ever (in my humble opinion, anyhow :) ). I have uploaded some new pictures onto my facebook page if you want to check them out. They have opened a koranic school in the village and now the littlest kids (the ones who are still too young for normal school) have started "studying" there. They can now recite several passages from the Koran (and are pretty proud to do so). And Thian, the baby of the family is not so much a baby anymore. She's not really talking much yet, but she can walk now and runs around and plays with the other kids.

My host dad recently had surgery. He had a tumor on his face that was pressing up against his optic nerve (he'd had vision problems before I'd left, but, at the time, they didn't know what was causing it). According to Jessie, my replacement, by the time of the surgery, you could physically see the tumor jutting out near his temple). I don't think they know yet whether or not it was malignant (such tests here take a long time), but he is recovering well and is back to most of his normal activities.

After spending those 4 days in Ndiago, I came back to Kaolack and spent a day visiting my friend M'Bissin in her village of Thiakalar. Since I left last year, she had another baby (she'd been very pregnant when I left). The little girl (Fatima) is doing well and looks to be a very happy baby. And her little boy is doing well too (for those of you who followed my blog during Peace Corps, M'Bissin was my friend who'd had twins, a boy and a girl who were significantly underweight at birth. The little girl didn't make it 24 hours, but the little boy, Ahmed, survived). Ahmed is now 2 years old and is running around with the other kids and is even talking just a little bit. And Adam, the oldest girl, is still pretty cute. She can talk in complete sentences now, which is cool to see- she even greeted me on the phone when I called before coming.

The rains started last night. I'm pretty happy about having been here for the first rain of the season. I woke up last night to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof. In a dry, dusty landscape, rain is a welcome sight.

Today, I'm off to Dakar. I'll be there for several days before leaving for Mali. I start work there this next Sunday.

Wish me luck!

Back in Senegal! (5/31/10)

2010-05-31T03:46:00.002-06:00

For those who haven't already heard, this summer, as a part of my graduate studies, I'm headed back to West Africa. I have an internship with an NGO called Trickle Up. They work in the microfinance sector working with micro-grants (small grants that go to the poorest of the poor to help them start small businesses and to help them start to make more income). I'm going to be helping them initiate some new monitoring and evaluation systems (which will help them to look at their program, how its working, the impact its having, etc) more critically. I'm pretty excited about it. I start on June 13th.

But, before then, I have a couple weeks to visit Senegal! Woohoo! I arrived in Dakar the day before yesterday (the 29th), after a 12 hour layover in Casablanca. Not such a bad deal considering the plane arrived around 10am. I had the whole day to check out the city, visit its huge mosque, etc. (the mosque really was quite impressive). Today, I am spending the day in Kaolack, my former home. Tomorrow, I will head to the village to say hello to everyone. My replacement (the volunteer who came to Ndiago after me) just arrived here at the regional house, so it'll be good to catch up before heading off tomorrow.

I hope all is well with everyone back home!

The Left Hand (7/9/09)

2009-07-13T16:37:00.002-06:00

In Senegal, the left hand is considered dirty. No one uses their left hand as their dominant hand (for writing, eating, etc)- any children who might otherwise choose to use their left hand are quickly corrected. The left hand is dirty because, here, there is no toilet paper. Rather, people use water and their left hand to clean themselves after using the bathroom. Thus, it is socially unacceptable to use that same hand to do anything else. Hand shakes are done right-handed. You use your right hand to eat (most people eat with their hands). And, you always pass something to someone else using your right hand (even if you are carrying it in your left hand and it would just be easier to pass it directly to the other person, you must first transfer it to your right hand before passing it to the other person).

However, there is one exception. When saying goodbye to someone you don't know if you'll see again, or who you know you won't see again for a long time, you shake their left hand. The idea behind this is that, by shaking the person's dirty hand, you are then obligated to come back again in order to reconcile the social affront that was committed. It's a way of obligating the person to visit again.

Well, a few days ago, I said goodbye to the village. It was sad, of course. Though thankfully there was no wailing, there were plenty of tears shed. And, as I said goodbye to each of the family members, I shook each person's left hand (well, except the two little boys, who didn't seem to get the left handshake thing and refused to give me their left hand- it was actually kinda cute how adamant they were about not giving me their dirty hand).

Though it was sad to say goodbye, I was happy about the way I was able to end things with the village.

The Casamance (7/5/09)

2009-07-12T05:51:00.003-06:00

The Casamance is the south-western most region of Senegal, located just south of The Gambia (which cuts through the middle of Senegal). While the majority of Senegal is pretty stable politically, the Casamance is known for its rebellion against the government. Whereas the majority of the country is Muslim, the majority of the residents in the Casamance are Catholic. They also speak a language (Djola) that is not spoken anywhere else in Senegal. They are also often neglected by the government. Thus, there is a rebellion movement against the government. There are many landmines in the region and travelling throughout the region by car is often unsafe due to attacks on civilian automobiles (public transit, etc).

However, the Casamance is also one of the most beautiful regions of the country and is the recipient of the majority of Senegal's tourism. The Casamance has tons of tropical forests and beautiful beaches.

Because of the political unstability and lack of safety on the roads, as Peace Corps volunteers, we are not allowed to travel in the Casamance region except to the capital city of Ziguinchor, and, even then, we are only allowed to travel by boat (there is a large passenger boat that travels from Dakar to Ziguinchor twice a week). And, though this perspective of the region is limited, a few friends and I decided to visit there before ending our services (we all are scheduled to complete our services in the next few months). Thus, we took close to a week, traveled to Ziguinchor by boat, and explored Zinguinchor.

Indeed, the area is quite beautiful. there are mangroves, palm trees, and vegetation of all sorts. Even family compounds (which are notoriously bare where I live) were filled with plants of all varieties. It was great. And the boat ride there was surprisingly comfortable. With the state of public transport in Senegal like it is, I was expecting to be crammed into a boat, probably with little air flow, making it a long, hot ride. But, no. The seats were all assigned, and, even though we only had the lowest class tickets, we were provided with airline type seats (with far more legroom than would ever be available on an airplane). And, to top things off, it was all air conditioned! Definitely hadn't expected that. It was actually cold- wished I would've brought a blanket.

Once there, we had a good time relaxing by the pool and exploring the city (and all of the lush green-ness). I'm definitely glad I was able to make a visit there before leaving Senegal.

The Axis of Evil Sends Gifts? (6/27/09)

2009-06-27T18:06:00.004-06:00

I know the term hasn't been used in a while (Oh, George W.), but the Axis of Evil has reared its ugly head in the most unlikely of places: Senegal. And, even more surprising, they come bearing gifts.

First, we have the Kaolack mosque. This mosque has been around for some time- plenty longer than I've been here. But, nonetheless, this massive mosque on the edge of town came as a gift from the fine people of Iraq, while under the management of none other than Saddam Hussein himself. Now isn't that a nice claim to fame? I live in the city that is watched over by the mosque that Saddam Hussein built. This is gift #1 from the Axis of Evil.

As I said, that mosque has been around for a while. And, therefore, while its interesting to know about, it can't touch this next gift from the Axis of Evil. Currently under construction on a high hill right on the edge of the Atlantic, the North Koreans are building a gigantic statue of a man emerging from the depths of a volcano with his wife and child. It is supposed to represent the African Renaissance (the African people rising up and forging the way towards development). It's construction is coming along nicely. They are finished up to the woman's neck and the man's chest. But, it looks a little absurd. And, it's in the middle of nowhere- it's not near anything. I couldn't imagine going there specifically just to see the statue. The only reason I have seen it is because it lies on the road between the Peace Corps office and downtown. But, the president (of Senegal) says he wishes it to be a landmark that distinguishes Dakar from the rest, like the Statue of Liberty in New York, or the Eiffel Tower in Paris. But, really? With all of the real-life, pressing problems facing Senegal, does Dakar really need a bronze statue taller than the Statue of Liberty? "No worries," says the president, "The money for the statue is all coming from private funds" (private North Korean funds that is...) While I understand the upside to not using public funds for this endeavor, is it really important enough to seek out the help of a country like North Korea? Really? Oh, Axis of Evil- trying to wheedle your way into other people's affairs. And, oh, Senegal for letting them. Who's next? Iran? The Saudis have also been here trying to curry favor with construction projects. So, I wouldn't really be that surprised...

Peace Corps Saves the Military? (6/11/09)

2009-06-21T05:51:00.004-06:00

The Peace Corps and the military are very different entities. Though you could say they are both agents of US foreign policy, that's about where the similarities end. And, in most cases, military business and Peace Corps business don't mix. The only real exception, I think would be in case of emergency evacuation, when the military helps get everyone out. As such, it is the military that comes to the rescue, not the other way around. However, I had the opportunity the other day to turn the tables. In my case, it was the Peace Corps that was able to save the military. :)

Among my fellow volunteers, I've earned the nickname "Dr. Kari". You see, when I first came to the Kaolack region, I was the first health volunteer they'd had in many years. As such, I became the first point of contact for many medical questions coming from volunteers. I can't tell you how many conversations I've had that started with, "So, you're a health volunteer, right? Do you have any idea what this [insert bizarre medical symptom here] is?" I've inspected infected wounds, oozing abscesses, and discussed the minutiae of many a GI illness.

Well, these medical "qualifications" came in handy the other day while we were hosting a group of ROTC cadets on a study abroad-type trip a couple weeks ago. They were visiting, getting a taste of the local culture. But they had only been in Senegal for just over a week at that point and had yet to acclimate to the weather. This time of year, the average high is between 100-110 degrees, every day. This day in particular may have even exceeded this (110+). And, as the rainy season hadn't started yet, the skies were completely clear and sunny. And, as any Senegalese person will tell you, the sun is hot!

Thus, several of the cadets were feeling under the weather, mainly due to dehydration. Before I'd found this out, I'd made a presentation to them about the work that I do as a health volunteer, at one point focusing on how I teach mothers to make "oral rehydration salts" to rehydrate their children when they have diarrhea (ORS is a simple way to replenish not only water in the body, but also the electrolytes that are necessary for proper hydration). I'd talked to them about how you can make it in the village by adding just sugar and salt to water. But, there's also a more technical version of ORS that is available at pharmacies (or, in my case, from the Peace Corps).

After talking to the ill cadets and "diagnosing" their dehydration (which really isn't that hard when they tell you they feel weak and nauseous and that they haven't had to go to the bathroom all day), I asked their leader if they had a medical kit- something that might contain some ORS. No, they had no ORS in their kit (what medical kit in the tropics doesn't include ORS?). So, I ran back home, grabbed as many packets as I had and came back, mixing up miracle cocktails for those who were ill. One girl reported that, while she hadn't been feeling well for a good part of the day, she started feeling better almost immediately after starting the ORS. I also learned, maybe a week later, that their group leader was asking around trying to find more ORS packets. Woohoo! Looks like the military has a few lessons to learn from the Peace Corps after all! :)

Winding Down (6/11/09)

2009-06-11T17:47:00.002-06:00

Well, as my time in Senegal winds down, I find myself wrapping up projects and finishing things up. And, as I do so, it seems that I'm not the only one that has reached the end of their service.

Over the past couple of months, a number of items that have been very valuable to me here have decided that they've had enough of the hard life in Senegal, and have died. First, there was my headlamp. Living in a compound that doesn't have electricity requires a good flashlight. And the headlamp that I brought with me served me well for two years- I think it was the brightest flashlight in the whole village. But, recently, a combination of the harsh conditions and bad, leaky batteries, put an end to my headlamp.

Then, about a month ago, my Teva sandals broke. They were actually my second pair of Tevas that I've had in Senegal. The first, a pair I'd had for several years before coming here, broke after about 6 months here, and I had my mom send me a new pair. Now, this second pair has bit the dust. One of the straps just broke through. I tried sewing it back on, which worked for a short while, but, alas, it broke again, leaving me with the only option of living strictly in flip-flop sandals for the last several months of my service (a situation that results in unfortunate blisters when I end up walking 5km when I miss the bus...)

Then, just this afternoon, my "unbreakable" plastic water bottle broke. I accidentally dropped it on the floor, apparently at just the right angle, which broke the lid (the only part of the bottle that isn't covered by its "unbreakable-ness", I guess). It is now useless.

As I finish up my service, it would seem that the timing of these things is pretty good- I don't have to go too long without them, I don't have to worry about finding a home for them when I leave (so that I don't have to bring back beat-up items), and I'm free to buy new ones when I return home. But, at the same time, it's hard to go long without a flashlight in a country that, even where it has electricity, suffers from frequent power outages, or go without decent shoes in a country where I walk everywhere, or live without a water bottle in a place where the daily high varies between 100-110 degrees. Haha. I get along. I just think it's funny that, as I'm getting ready to leave, all of my material possesions are deciding that they've had enough too- 2 years in Senegal was just too much. Haha.

Bassari Festival (5/18/09)

2009-05-21T09:33:00.004-06:00

In addition to visiting the waterfalls of Dindifelo, while we were in Kedougou, we also had the opportunity to attend the Bassari Festival near the town of Salimata. The Bassari are an ethnic group located in the Kedougou region of Senegal. Every year, they host a festival in which boys are initiated into manhood. The boys, aged around 14-15 are put through a series of formalities and challenges before being officially accepted into manhood.

The festivities start on the first night when the initiates dance and show off their prowess. For the spectators, there is tons of food to eat and people selling cold drinks (sodas, etc). They do this all night. I don't believe the initiates are able to sleep at all. The next morning, there are more festivities. The small village where the event is held becomes crowded with people. Men who have already been initiated dress up in masks and dance. Then, all of the men who weren't already at the festivities, come walking down in one big long line from the mountain, where they then proceed to the wrestling grounds.

Each initiate is required to fight one of the adult men in a ring, with everyone watching. Women aren't actually allowed at this event. It is considered secret. However, I was fortunated enough to come upon a place up on the top of the hill, away from the actual ring where I could watch from a far. No one cared that I was up there. The fighting starts off using wooden sticks. But, it quickly degenerates into a form of wrestling. The first one to get thrown to the ground, loses. In most cases, it was the young initiates who lost. Their future enterance into manhood doesn't depend on whether or not they win- just that they went through it. But, on a few occassions, the young men were able to best their opponent. These, of course, were the most exciting fights of all.

It only lasted about 24 hours. But, nonetheless, it was a pretty cool event to see. Certainly nothing like you'd ever see in America.

Kedougou (5/18/09)

2009-05-21T08:54:00.004-06:00

Kedougou is the South-Eastern most city/region in Senegal. And, while the majority of Senegal is very dry, sandy, and flat, Kedougou is an anomaly. It has mountains, rivers, waterfalls, tons of trees, and decent soil (this might not sound that important to those of you back home, but soil quality, and the ability to grow crops successfully, can have a major impact on people's quality of life here). Kedougou is also one of the farthest flung regions of the country. It is not easy to get to. By car, it takes a minimum of 12-15 hours to get to from Kaolack, where I live. As such, I had never been down there before. I'd spent over 2 years in Senegal without ever having gone that far South. I'd been to Tambacounda several times (a city part-way between Kaolack and Kedougou), but never Kedougou. So, as I find myself winding down my service, one of my goals was to make it down there before I leave.

Thus, last week, my friend Susannah and I went down for a visit. We spent a couple nights at the Kedougou Peace Corps house before heading out to Dindifelo, the site of one of the many waterfalls that dot the Kedougou region. We chose Dindifelo because, being as we are at the very end of the rainy season and there hasn't been any rain for many months, only a few of the waterfalls actually still have water. Dindifelo is one of the ones that does. There is also a volunteer based in the town of Dindifelo who we could consult on information regarding how to get there, where to stay, etc.

There are really only two ways to reach Dindifelo. One is by hired 4wheel drive vehicle. This would cost approximately 50,000cfa (about $100). The other is by bicycle, over a 25-30km rugged trail. Though I have only used my bike minimally since being here (the trail I would use at site is very sandy and there are plenty of horse-drawn charettes to meet my travel needs) and so was pretty out of practice, we were not willing to drop $100 on a three-day trip, so biking it would be. On our first night in the village, it rained. It was wonderful. It was our luck that Kedougou's rainy season (which starts much early than it does in Kaolack) had started on our second day in Kedougou, just before leaving for Dindifelo. The rain was a welcome distraction. As I said, most of Senegal, including Kaolack, is very dry. Thus, the humidity isn't that bad, and it generally cools off pretty well at night. However, this too doesn't apply to Kedougou. Though the overall temperature may have been roughly the same as elsewhere, the humidity was incredible. Whereas it often starts cooling off in Kaolack around 7 or 8pm, it was still 11pm in Kedougou, and it felt like we were in a sauna. But, that's the great thing about rain in Senegal. The wind starts picking up, the temperature drops significantly, and then the rain just starts to pour. It was great. With the exception of just one night, it rained every night for the rest of our trip. It was really nice.

Dindifelo was amazing. With the exception of visiting Dogon Country while I was in Mali, I haven't experienced cliffs, forests, or fresh water, in over two years. So, it was pretty cool being able to see all of that in one place. Check out my picture site to see photos from this trip (http://pcvsenegal.shutterfly.com). We spent an entire day at the waterfalls, swimming and just enjoying the environment that is so different than what we'd become accustomed to. Though the bike ride in was a bit rough for a couple people who haven't been in the habit of riding them, it was definitely worth it. I'm really glad I had a chance to make it out there before I leave Senegal.

Don't Touch Our Toubab! (4/21/09)

2009-04-27T11:07:00.002-06:00

I just had to share this story. I thought it was cute. The other day, while I was on my way to Ndiago before my going away party, I got stuck waiting for a charette (horse-drawn cart) to bring me to the village. So, I sat down across the street from where the charettes leave, where I know several people who sell various odds and ends.

I was just sitting there waiting when a guy I'd never met before came up. He, as most people are, was astonished when I was able to talk to him in Wolof. He shook my hand in proper greeting. The only problem was, he wasn't all that keen to let go. I tried to politely pull my hand away. But, he just let me pull his hand down with mine and made a comment that I didn't understand. I made some sort of noise and pulled my hand away more forcefully. At this point, my friend the seller took note and asked the guy what he thought he was doing. But, the guy started walking away.

However, he didn't get more than a couple feet away when he got stopped by one of the old men who spend their days sitting there under the trees. The old man is one of my favorite old men. Everytime I see him he's so happy to see me and always wants to chat. However, he has to be at least 80 years old and walks with a cane. He blocked the guy's path with his cane and began berating the guy for having treated me like he did. How dare he try to do that me. I am their toubab, he said. No one should treat me like that. He then threatened to beat the guy with his cane if he didn't apologize to me. Despite the fact that a beating from this particular man was unlikely to raise so much as a bruise, the guy turned around and asked for my forgiveness for his poor behavior (and, to his credit, he did look like he regreted messing with this particular toubab- even if it was just because he got yelled at for it).

Despite the man's rudeness, all I could do was smile. Confrontation is frowned upon in Senegalese culture. And, though I have always found my friends to be helpful to me in anyway they can, I have also found myself in situations in which, in order to avoid conflict or confrontation, misbehavior or rudeness has been overlooked. So, I was very happy to see this series of events. It's always nice to know that you have people who'll have your back if you need it.

A Good Way to Leave (4/24/09)

2009-04-24T16:34:00.001-06:00

On April 29th, my replacement, Jessie, will be installed in Ndiago. Though I will still be in-country until late July, new volunteers come in on a fixed time schedule. And health volunteers only arrive once a year, in the spring. Thus, my replacement is here. As of today, this newest group of volunteers are no longer trainees; they are officially volunteers. Thus, in preparation for Jessie’s installation in the village, I have moved out. It was weird, to be sure: giving away many of the things that have made life in the village possible. But, all in all, I think it was a good way to leave.

I arrived back in the village on Monday the 20th and, starting with that evening, everyday, there was some sort of party. The first day, it was a baptism in the nearby pulaar village. On Tuesday, there was a “café turando” (when someone names their baby after you, it is common practice to provide that family with the means to celebrate by making coffee for all the women in the village, who then all gather together to dance, etc- this is called a “café turando”). On Wednesday, there was a meeting of the women’s group, where they provided a meal called “Lar u bissap”, which would have to be one of my favorite dishes and which is only served at special events. At each of these events, there was dancing, and, though I’m not generally a big fan of dancing (I’m not very good at it), I really enjoy the dancing here, and its often the part that I look forward to the most at big events (well, that and the food, anyhow J). Then, Thursday was the big day.

Last year, when I first started my anti-malaria project, I’d made the promise that, if the village were successful in lowering the rate of malaria, I would provide “noss” (literally translated: fun). I would provide a big lunch for everyone, dancing, etc. And, as it turned out, the village was very successful. They lowered the malaria rate by about 90% (from 47 cases in 2007 to just 6 in 2008). And, though I’d been meaning to, I hadn’t been able to find a time to do it earlier, so, I scheduled the fete for shortly before I was going to leave the village. This timing worked out well, as I was able to turn it into both a celebration of having lowered malaria and an encourager for doing similar work with Jessie (as I was getting ready to leave, it was also a nice parting gift from me to the village).

The day before, I went to the luumo (big weekly market) and spent more money in the space of a few hours than I have in a long, long time. We bought about 100lbs of rice, 80lbs of onions, and probably another 30 or so pounds of various vegetables- carrots, green peppers, green beans, cucumbers, etc. I also had my host dad buy a goat. Now, typically, at a big lunch like this (like at a baptism, wedding, etc), there aren’t that many vegetables- mainly onions and, if the family has a lot of money, maybe a few carrots or other vegetables. But, as a health volunteer, if I was going to throw a big lunch, you’d better believe there was going to be more to it that just rice, oil, and a tiny bit of meat. We bought enough vegetables to put on every bowl, even the kids’ bowls (typically at these big affairs, the men eat first, then the women, and then finally the kids, so, by the time the kids’ bowls are served up, there is little in the way of meat or vegetables).

I was a little worried about how the whole affair was going to take off. Being as there were so many vegetables that would have to be cut by hand (there are no food processors, or even cutting boards for that matter, in Senegal), I was afraid that we wouldn’t eat until really late (which would have been a problem as there was a wedding happening in the afternoon in the neighboring village). These types of lunches tend to be late anyhow (eating at 3pm is completely normal), so, with all the additional work, I was worried we wouldn’t eat until 4 or 5pm. Also, as I said, there was a wedding going on in the neighboring village, and I was afraid people might be obligated to go there instead.

But, as it turned out, there was no reason to worry. The women started showing up super early (normally, they start showing up to help by around 9:30/10:00am, but there were women cutting up vegetables in our compound by 8am. By noon, they were cooking the rice (the last stage in the preparation). It was around 1:30pm that they started serving the first bowls. I was duly impressed. It could be because I am biased, but it might have been some of the best “ceeb u yapp” (rice with meat) I’ve ever eaten. The rest of the day went similarly well.

After lunch, we held a meeting with all of the women to talk about the malaria project and why I’d thrown the party in the first place and to talk about how to continue it once I’m gone (the basic plan is that the women’s group, with Jessie’s help, will take over the production of the neem lotion). Then, around 5, when the party was just starting to die down, the power came back on and the music started (it’d been out all day). This brought everybody back and people danced until late. Everyone had a good time.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, in honor of me throwing this party, my friend M’bissin (who had left Ndiago to live in her husband’s village) came to visit. And she brought her little boy Ahmed. She’s the one I’ve written about before who had the twins that were born really small (2kg and 1kg; the girl, who was the smaller of the two, died shortly after birth). Well, Ahmed, the bigger of the two infants, just passed his 1st birthday and is learning how to walk. It was good to see him doing well.

The next morning, after the party, I left Ndiago, carrying with me the last of my belongings. Though perhaps bittersweet, all in all, it was a good way to leave the village.

The Big Decision (4/15/09)

2009-04-15T12:45:00.003-06:00

So, as you all know, I've had a big decision before me- one that I was hoping would become a bit easier when I recieved my final financial aid info from all of the schools I applied to. However, as it turned out, that decision, at least in reference to the choice I'd hoped to make, was not made easier at all. Over the many months of the application process, I had talked myself into attending the University of Denver. For several reasons, I really liked their program and the setting in Denver and at the base of the Rocky Mountains would have been great. And thus, as a believer in the philosophy that what is meant to be will be, I assumed that that is where I would end up (I'm not fatalistic or anything, but just a believer in the bizarre ability of life to work itself out in the end).

But, it would seem, what was meant to be was not what I believed it to be. The financial aid packages came back and Denver was not able to offer me anything near what Fordham had been able to offer me. I even wrote to them asking if there was any possibility for them to make their offer more financially competitive. Sadly, the answer was no. Thus, I spent several days in an internal debate. I had spent so much time talking myself into the Univ of Denver that it was hard for me to truly consider an alternate option. But, in the end, Fordham Univ was giving me an offer that was just too good to pass up. And thus, admittedly with some trepidation, I sent in my decline of admission letters to all the other schools and sent in my deposit for Fordham University.

Now that it is done, I have no regrets. Really, there is no other choice I could have realistically made. And, though I tried to second-guess this, in the end, I believe it worked out the way it was supposed to work out. In just a few months, I will be headed for NYC! It will actually be my first time visiting the East Coast north of North Carolina. I'm excited to start picking my classes and finding out what lies before me in this next step in life.

Elections (3/27/09)

2009-03-27T14:09:00.002-06:00

Last Sunday, Senegal held local elections across the country. There was significant buildup- some violent, some not. There were the riots and strikes I described earlier in my blog that happened in Kaolack. And there had been even worse riots in Kedougou around Christmas time last year. There were also various demonstrations of varying degrees all over the country in the lead up to the elections. Many people across the country are fed up with the current president (Abdoulaye Wade) and his ruling party (prior to the elections, the party also held the majority of municipal positions- mayors, etc- across the country). Given these prior incidences, Peace Corps wasn't taking any chances. Volunteers were warned against going anywhere near political demonstrations, events, or voting stations. And, as my regions primary emergency contact, I kept my phone with me at all times that weekend, just in case something major happened and I needed to get the word out.

But, fortunately, despite the tensions and buildup, the elections went off with only some minor problems in a few areas. And, though the elections have not been 100% finalized, the initial results show that the leading party SOPI has lost the majority of the municipal seats. This is a major change, as the SOPI party has won the majority of elections for the past decade. Also, it was believed that the curent president had been grooming his son Kharim Wade to succeed him in 2012 when he finishes his 2nd and final term. Kharim Wade ran for municipal office in this most recent election. Though not yet finalized, it is believed that he lost that election.

As a side note, it looks like Guinguineo (the town I live near) is one of the few places where SOPI did win this most recent election... The guy who won (and who has held the office now for some time) is pretty high up in the party's organization, and, as such, has been able to get a decent amount of money for the area and therefore people generally like him in Guinguineo.

The elections themselves happened in relative peace. I hope the rest of the transition does as well.

Leaving Ndiago (3/27/09)

2009-03-27T10:58:00.002-06:00

Though I still have about 4 months left here in Senegal, it won't be long before I have to say goodbye to my village. You see, the new group of volunteers has already arrived in country and are about halfway through their pre-service training. Among these volunteers is my replacement. Next week, I will be bringing her with me to visit Ndiago. She'll spend close to a week there with me, meeting people, helping me with some activities, etc. I'm pretty excited. I want the transition to go well and for the new volunteer to be happy there. So, I think its great that I'll have the chance to show her around and help her meet everybody.

She'll only be spending a week there with me now. But then, at the end of next month, she will be moving there for good. At that point, I will be saying my goodbyes to the village. Though I might come back to visit from time to time, it would be as a guest and not necessarily as someone who lives there. It'll be strange. But, I'm looking forward to finishing up my work in Kaolack and then, at the end of July, moving back to the States. It's still 4 months away. But, it's going to fly by. I'll be home before I know it.

Grad School (3/27/09)

2009-03-27T10:18:00.003-06:00

It's that time of year. For anyone applying to grad school, the next few weeks are often a nail-biter. Acceptance/rejections are coming in, as are financial aid letters. And admissions decisions are due in the very near future: April 15th. For me, it is no different.

I have been accepted to all the school's I've applied to: the Univ. of Denver, Fordham Univ, SIT, and Johns Hopkins. That, in and of itself, is pretty exciting. But, that leaves me with a decision to make. Where do I really want to go?

In an ideal world where money isn't a factor, I'd like to attend the Univ. of Denver. I really like their program. It's very flexible and they offer a wide variety of classes and options. This would allow me to study exactly what I want to study. And, at least from what I can tell, I really like the atmosphere and the philosophy of the school (as well as I can gauge through the internet). The problem? Money. Though I've been accepted into their Peace Corps Fellows program, there is no direct scholarship associated with it. I do get a reduction in the number of required classes (thereby saving money), but no direct reduction in costs.

On the other hand, one of the other schools I've applied to, Fordham Univ in NY, is able to give me a free ride through their Fellows program. Clearly, from a financial standpoint, this would be the better option. But, sadly, from what I can tell, I don't like their program nearly as much. It is a very small program (30 new grad students a year) and therefore doesn't offer a lot of flexibility or class choices. Also, it is very focused on economics and politics, which are not really where my interests are.

I'm still waiting to hear about need-based aid from the Univ of Denver (should arrive next week, inshallah). And, hopefully, then, the decision will be made a bit easier. I've been impatiently waiting (checking my email as often as possible) and am looking forward to making a decision one way or the other. But, until then, I'm very undecided and have been going back and forth.

Housemates (3/7/09)

2009-03-07T11:42:00.003-06:00

I've recently received some unexpected house guests. Several weeks ago, it would seem, a cat gave birth to kittens in the sink behind my apartment (I have a small laundry space out back). I don't normally go back there except once every couple weeks to do my laundry. So, I didn't even know they were there. But, when I finally did go back there, I found out pretty quick. I was reaching towards the water spigot with a bucket when the momma cat started hissing. I heard her before I saw her, and just about jumped a foot in the air. I haven't been able to use that sink since. But, the kittens are really cute. I just have to watch out for the momma cat- she doesn't like me because I kicked her out of the house.

You see, prior to me moving into this apartment, there hadn't been anyone living in it for several years. The screens on the windows had broken and a cat (a spotted, white cat much like these little guys) had taken up residence. Even after we'd fixed the screens and boarded up her other access points, she kept trying to get back in. I can't tell you how many times I was startled to hear a bang, then a crash as the cat tried to jump in the window, but was knocked back by the new screens. I felt bad, but I didn't want a pet- especially not some street cat. But, though she can't get in anymore, it would seem she hasn't lost an affinity for the place and decided to give birth right here at home. Not sure what I'm going to do with the cats yet. They're still really small. I'm hoping they find a new place once they get a bit bigger. We'll see.

A Bad Way to Start the Week (3/5/09)

2009-03-05T09:40:00.003-06:00

This last Monday (the 2nd), those of us staying at the Kaolack regional house woke up to a number of problems. First, we were informed by our guard that the President of the neighboring country Guinea-Bissau had just been murdered (in retribution for the killing of the head of the military, apparently). Guinea-Bissau has never really been a stable country, but nonetheless, this was not good news (the military holds that this action was not a coup, though I fail to see the logic in that assertion...). This was our first surprise of the morning.

The next surprise came when a few volunteers who had headed to the garage earlier in the morning called the house reporting a transit strike and angry, brick-throwing, tire burning demonstrations downtown. There were no cars running whatsoever, to any destination. From what I heard, the garages were near empty (garages are what we call the transit stations where the cars that will take people to all the various destinations in the country sit and wait to fill with clients prior to their departure). If the cars aren't running, there are no other options. Everyone was stuck.

In a seemingly unrelated situation, on the same day, the students of Kaolack decided to strike as well. They were upset over a lack of teachers and the irregular schedule of classes that prevent them from getting the education they need. You see, the teachers also strike on a regular basis in protest to low wages and paychecks that often come late, if ever. And, because the teachers strike so often, the regular schedule of classes is so interupted as to inhibit the students ability to learn (as an example, in my village, at this time of year, the students may only have 1, maybe 2 days- likely partial days- of school a week). That is no way to learn. The teachers are upset over pay, so they don't work. The students can't learn because there are no classes, so they strike too and don't show up. Neither ever results in any appreciable improvement for either students or teachers.

The difference between the regular strikes that happen with students and the strikes of this past week have been in their intensity. There are not often large scale demonstrations. But, everyday since Monday, there have been numerous demonstrations with burning tires, rocks being thrown, etc. And, each time, the demonstrations get broken up by the police wielding tear gas.

One of these demonstrations was right near the Kaolack house. There is a high school right near the house. On the second day of the strikes, there was a large group of us in the house when we heard a loud bang. I went to the roof to check it out. But, almost as soon as I stepped outside the door, my eyes started stinging. I could see the clouds of smoke rising from the neighboring school and quickly figured out what had happened and went back inside.

The transit strike went on for three days, stranding about 15 volunteers at the house (there'd been a lot going on at the house that weekend, and all those people had planned on leaving that Monday...). The student strikes continued through this morning. I'm not sure if they will stop after today or not... I can only hope.

Close of Service (2/18/09)

2009-02-18T14:46:00.002-06:00

Here I am, once again in the big city, Dakar. First was WAIST, the softball tournament. Then, we had an All Volunteer Conference. But, now, it is time for our "Close of Service" conference. The fine people of my stage (the group of volunteers I came to country with), are nearing the end of our time as Peace Corps Volunteers. A few are extending for a third year. A few more, like myself, are extending for a few months. And some are leaving very soon (the first leaves this Friday!) The conference is all about the logistics and practicalities of finishing our service. This is a government gig, so there's plenty of paperwork to be filled out. And then there's the adjustment issues to be talked about (I'll be ready to come home, but it is going to be weird after 2 years away!).

The most significant thing I've had to do thus far in the conference is to pick my COS date (the date I leave this fine country). It was an informed choice, but really, I just picked a day- doesn't really matter to me if I leave on a Monday or a Thursday or whatever. All I care about is that I have enough time to see everybody in MN when I get back, travel for a few days to Chicago, and then move to wherever it is I'm going to be going to grad school. So, the date I picked was July 24th. This should give me 4-5 weeks before starting school, depending on which school I end up attending. It's strange how putting an actual date on it makes it that much more of reality. Prior to now, finishing the Peace Corps was this abstract kind of idea off in the distance, some 6 months away. But, now that I have a specific date (and now that I'm starting to find out about grad schools), it's becoming more and more of a reality. I'm also getting more and more excited about coming back and being able to talk to and see everybody again.

So, mark your calandars! July 24th, I'm coming back!

WAIST (2/18/09)

2009-02-18T14:33:00.002-06:00

I've been in Dakar this past week for a couple of reasons. First, it was time for the annual West African Invitational Softball Tournament. Every year, volunteers, expats, and Senegalese people join together for a weekend of hotdogs, french fries, and softball. And it's not just limited to Senegal. Volunteers from Mauritania, The Gambia, Mali, Guinea, and sometimes Togo and Benin travel thousands of miles to participate in this event. This past year, there were some 40 teams participating. Because nearly all of the volunteers from Senegal participate, we divide the teams by region. Being as my region of Kaolack has 35 volunteers, we have an advantage in being able to pick our best players to put out on the field. Some regions need every last person to play in order to avoid forfeiting.

The Kaolack region has historically done fairly well- last year we made it to the quarter-finals. But, we've done ourselves one better. This year, we made it to the semi-finals. Though we lost to the Mauritania A team (who has an even better advantage than Kaolack in that they get to pick their best players from the entire country, as opposed to just one region), we did beat the 4th place team, gaining us a spot on the podium and a nice sized trophy. From what I've been told, it is the first time a Peace Corps team from Senegal has gotten a trophy in a long time. Yeah Kaolack!!!

The First! (2/18/09)

2009-02-18T14:21:00.002-06:00

Just a quick note to let everyone know some pretty exciting news: I've been accepted to one of the grad school program's I've applied to! I just received an email about 15 minutes ago letting me know that I'd been accepted. And here I'd thought I'd have to wait for the delay in snail mail traveling to Africa before I could hear anything about any grad school stuff. The wonders of the internet! :) Anyhow, just wanted to share that exciting news with everyone. I've got 3 schools left to hear from. Here's hoping my luck continues!

The Next Step (2/10/09)

2009-02-09T18:26:00.002-06:00

I should be coming up on the end of my Peace Corps service. I arrived here in Senegal on March 12th, 2007. My service should end 2 years and 2 months after this date, or, May 2009. However, as I think I've explained in prior posts, I've decided to postpone that leave date a few months as a part of my new job responsibilities in Kaolack. But, nonetheless, I am starting the process of planning for life once I get back to the States.

I am currently in the process of applying to four different graduate programs, all in International Development. I hope to to continue in the line of work that I've chosen- working with international non-profits. I am currently applying to:

The University of Denver
John's Hopkins University
The School for International Training, and
Fordham University

By now, all of the applications are in. I've filed my taxes and filled out my FAFSA. Now, all I have left to do is wait for their reply. Hopefully, I should be hearing from these schools early next month. However, there is one catch in receiving these responses- I gave them all my address here in Senegal. Main takes an extra 1-2 weeks to get here. So, whereas I may have started receiving notices in early March, it might be mid- or late-March by the time I actually hear anything. Alas. But, nonetheless, here I am, waiting to decide on the next stage of my life.

The Internet (2/5/09)

2009-02-05T06:26:00.005-06:00

Now that I've more or less moved to the city, I've decided to set up my own internet connection. It is billed as "high-speed". However, by US standards, this equals slow. But, still, I'm pretty happy about it (now that I have it installed finally). But, it was a long process to get it.

A friend of mine was finishing his service and had an internet account in Dakar. You have to sign a one year contract and his hadn't expired yet. So, he asked if I'd be interested in taking it over for him. Sure, of course. I wanted to get internet anyway. So, last November (yes, November), he went to the office in Dakar and applied for the transfer, was told the fees would be on his next invoice. Great.

The timing (at that point) was great for me. I was going to be leaving in a few weeks for my trip to Mali, and I needed to get my grad school applications in before I left. Having my own internet connection to do this with would be great. We were told the transfer would take a coupe days and the the install guys would come out. I waited a few days and then called. It's still in process, they said. I called back repeatedly. It's still in process. It didn't get installed before I had to leave. I had to submit my grad school applications from various cyber cafes (definitely a pain).

But, at least when I got back from Mali (3 weeks later), certainly, it would be transferred. Right? Of course not... I got back and called again. Was told someone should be calling me for the install soon. No one called. I went in to the office with my friend who actually owns the account to find out what the problem was. Well, he never paid the fees, they said. We were told then that the fees cannot be added to a normal bill- they must be paid separately. But the other guy said... Doesn't matter what the other guy said. Ok. So, we paid the fees. Then they needed the phone number of a close neighbor- something about being able to find what cluster of phone lines to put it near- I don't know. I didn't have a neighbor's phone number, but I promised to go home and find one and call him back.

I called him back a couple hours later and gave him the info (and, in the process, I met the Japanese volunteer that is my neighbor). Ok, he said. The technicians should be giving you a call in the next couple days to set up the install. I waited several days. No one called. I went back to the office. By this time, I'd more or less become a regular. The receptionist smiles when she sees me and the guy who handles the internet questions knows me by name. He looked it up. Apparently, there was some problem with the number I'd given (I think he just forgot to put it in when I'd called back). He entered it and called the technician. They would be coming out before the end of the week.

Sure enough, later that week, I got a call from the technician that they wanted to come out. Only problem- I'd just left to spend the day in the village (it was a Senegalese holiday the next day). So, I begged a friend of mine in Kaolack to go to my apartment and let him in. He went. But the technicians never showed. So, I called them back when I got back to Kaolack. They would come out later that afternoon, they said. And, finally, they actually did. They installed the line. The dsl line takes a little while to get activated, he said, but it should come in the next few hours. So, I waited. The dsl connection came as he indicated, but there was no access to the internet.

So, I waited some more. I called their tech support (tech support in English is enough of a pain. Try calling tech support in a language in which you have no technical vocabulary...). Nothing worked. They told me to try several things (one of which included another trip to visit my new friend at the internet office). Nothing worked. I even called a private technician to see if he could set it up. No, he couldn't. A problem with the phone line, he said. Nothing he could do. But Sonatel, the phone company, said it was a software issue. They went back and forth for several days, trying different things.

Finally, I called another guy in the Sonatel office. He actually came out to see what the problem was. He said that several other people were having a similar problem. They were getting trained on how to fix it. He would call when it was fixed. I waited several more days (which included a weekend of course, stretching the time out even longer). Finally, he called. And, much to my amazement, it actually worked! After two months of going back and forth between the Sonatel office, various technicians, etc, it finally worked.

Given my history with Sonatel and trying to get an internet line hooked up, I was a bit leery of trying to get another line set up for our regional house. But, we'd decided that that's what we were going to do. And, as the responsible party for organizing such things in Kaolack now, I headed back down to the office and talked to my friend who handles the internet issues. I signed up for the account and bought the wireless modem. And, much to my surprise, later that day, I got a call that the technicians were at the house, ready to set up the line. They set it up. And, though we did have a problem with the original modem we bought (it was broken), I went back the next day, got a new one, and the line worked. No months of waiting, no going back and forth with tech support. It was amazing. And that's the way things work here. Sometimes, things work really well, and people are willing and able to help you out. And sometimes, it just doesn't seem to work in your favor regardless of what you do. You just have to deal with it as it comes.

A Taste of Home (1/10/09)

2009-02-04T17:49:00.002-06:00

Maybe a month or so ago, I got a little taste of home. I was on my way back to the village. I was in Guinguineo, waiting to get a charette to take me to my village. And, as I glanced around, I saw this kid, maybe 15 or 16 standing across the street with his bike. He was just standing there, not really doing anything. But then, I noticed his t-shirt. He was wearing a Hopkins-Minnetonka Recreational Soccer League t-shirt. I think I might have stared at him for a good several minutes. Hopkins-Minnetonka?! That's were I grew up. Somebody's old club t-shirt had made its way all the way, probably through a series of different non-profits, to some small town in the middle of rural Senegal. It is indeed a small world. I wanted to take his picture. But, sadly, my camera was out of batteries.

Fass Toucouleur (1/22/09)

2009-01-22T17:12:00.003-06:00

There was a big group of volunteers who finished their service this past fall/winter. About 13 volunteers from my region left. One of them, Brad, was still trying to complete one last project before leaving. He had applied for funding to get a millet grinding machine for his village, Fass Toucouleur. However, not all of the funding had been received prior to his last day of service. So, he asked if I would be available to take over the project and see that it gets finished. Of course I could.

Really, this hasn't included much work on my part. I've exchanged a few calls with people in his village to make sure that progress on their part of the project was moving along smoothly. And, when they let me know that the building that would house the new machine was finished, I went with them to pay for the machine (2million cfa, which is approx. $4000- the most cash I've ever carried on my person in my life). Then, finally, today, I was able to help deliver the finished machine.

As we rolled into the village, people could see the machine on the back of the truck and started coming out of their compounds to follow us. Everyone was really excited. Many even knew who I was (though I'd never been to this village before). I asssume Brad or one of the villagers I'd been in contact with had told them. Kids and adults alike gathered around. And, after about 10 guys helped to lift the machine off of the truck and into the room, we turned it on for a test spin. It worked perfectly. Everyone was all smiles, and the women started drumming and dancing. Everyone was very happy, repeatedly thanking me and Brad for helping them to get a machine like this (this type of machine saves the women a lot of work in the preparation of millet).

Even though my involvement with the project was fairly minimal, it was a good day, being able to see a project through to its completion.

Wailing (12/30/08)

2009-01-10T05:54:00.003-06:00

Death is a common part of life in Senegal. The infant mortality rate is 79 per 1000 live births. And malaria afflicts about 11% of the population each year. And there are a myriad of other health problems and issues that can strike at any age, leading to an average life expectancy of only 50 years (in the US it is around 72). However, as with illnesses anywhere, they strike hardest and fastest in those least capable of defending themselves against it- the children and the elderly.

Senegalese people are generally very stoic when it comes with dealing with loss. I have very rarely seen an adult cry- despite the very difficult circumstances people often find themselves in here. But, when someone dies, those social rules no longer apply. When someone dies, there is wailing. At first, it's hard to distinguish whether or not someone is just yelling, fighting, or crying. But soon, the first person's wails are joined by others, as family and friends learn of this tragedy through this very public display and join in with their own wails.

In my village, there had only been 3 deaths (to my knowledge) during my time there. Two were very old people. The third was my friend M'Bissin's baby girl who died within 24 hours of birth. In the case of my friend's daughter, nothing was done, as the baby was too young to have been named and baptised (they wait 7 days before the infant is officially accepted into the community as too many infants die before reaching this age). In the case of the two old people, there was wailing- there always is. It is how people mark the occassion of a person's passing and spread the news. But, by the time the funeral roles around a few days later, the occassion for a funeral changes from an event filled with tears into an event to be celebrated. In the lead-up to the funeral, people will discuss the enormity of the celebration to be had- how many sheep or goats will be killed, how many people will attend, how much fun will be had, etc. Thus, the funeral serves as a way to commemorate the person's life, rather than morn their passing. I have never seen people crying at the funerals of either of these old people.

However, a new sort of tradegy hit Ndiago. On the morning of the 30th, as I was still in my hut preparing myself to come out of my hut and great my family, I heard the yelling, the raised voices. It was coming from the compound next to mine- this I could tell even without opening my door. I wondered what was going on, and, as I threw on my clothes, I heard members of my family trying to figure out what was going on. Who was fighting, they asked amongst themselves. But just as quickly, someone said that, no, no one was fighting. Something had happened to Mbaye Sarr.

By the time I dressed and came out to find out what was going on, no one was left in my compound except for the grandmother who was holding the baby girl, who was now reacting to the wailing going on and was wailing herself. I grabbed the baby and took her with me to the neighbor's compound, where I knew I would find the baby's mother and where I might be able to find out what was going on.

By the time I arrived, the entire village was there. It may have only taken me 5 minutes to get dressed and make my way next door, but already, neighbors from across the village were coming in to hear the news. I stood outside with several other people as people tried to figure out what had happened. Mbaye Sarr, a young man maybe 25-30 years old and who had been away working in the city of Mbour, had had an accident. But what kind of accident? Was he killed, or was he just injured? Where was he? These were the questions everyone was trying to find out. His wife and mother were both too distressed, their whole bodies being thrown into the process of wailing to tell anyone anything with any clarity.

Eventually, I would borrow out my cell phone several times so that calls could be made and the truth discovered (I don't normally do this, but under the circumstances...). Eventually, we would find out that he had gone to the beach with a friend and his friend's son several days prior. They went out swimming and were never seen again. Two days later, the bodies of the friend and his son washed up on shore. Mbaye's body would never be seen again.

Everyone at the compound that day was crying. A few were just sobbing to themselves, but many women threw themselves on the ground, wailing in a full body effort that I have never seen before, here or elsewhere. Even on the day of the funeral, a time when people usually come out to celebrate rather than to mourn, was a tragic time. His wife's cries could be heard from inside her room, a fact that would spark others to join in. This was a first for me- a truly tragic death. Even some of the men would join in with their tears (though the men did not participate in the full body wailing that the women do). I will not forget the way the people reacted to this tragic news. For people who usually bear their hardships silently, to see such an outpouring was a sight to see.

I'm an Idiot- Part II (12/15/08)

2008-12-18T18:08:00.002-06:00

After the ordeal with losing my bag, I was happy to be heading back to the village. I went back to the market (all the while reminding myself not to forget my bag in the trunk again). And, I didn't. I bought my vegetables, got in a car for Guinguineo, and hopped on a charette headed for my village.

When I arrived, everyone was really excited to see me. It was a great homecoming. I spent some 20 minutes greeting everyone and chatting. Then I went back to actually open my door. And wait. There it is. I'm an idiot, once again. I didn't have a key to my hut.

When I left, I'd only brought one key with me. But, on my way through Guinguineo, I'd left it with my closest volunteer neighbor just in case. Over the course of three weeks vacation and then my ordeal the day before, I'd completely forgotten. I was supposed to stop by her house on my way back to the village (she had since left for her own vacation, but had left my key in her room, to which I have a spare key). Again, I'm an idiot.

I had hidden a key on top of my door frame for just such an occurrence. But, of course, it was no where to be found (I blame the mice for knocking it down). Finally, as the whole family (as well as a few neighbors) started to crowd around, we had to one, crawl into my bathroom area by pulling away the thatched fence, and then chiseled away the cement wall around the lock to my back door. We were then able to get into my room where I had another key with which to open the front door. The village mason (who happened to be one of the neighbors who had come to see me when I first got there) reassured me that he would fix my door the next morning (and he did!).

Not nearly as eventful as my first screw up, but still. I felt like an idiot, not even able to get into my own hut after nearly a month away.

I'm an Idiot (12/14/08)

2008-12-18T16:33:00.004-06:00

We arrived back in Kaolack on the 12th of December. I took a day off of travelling (or really doing anything for that matter) on the 13th, and was set to head back to my village on the 14th. I had everything all packed up and ready to go. On the way to the transport garage, I was going to stop by the market, buy a few things for my host family, and eat lunch with some friends.

I got out of the taxi, made a few purchases and was on my way to buy vegetables when all of a sudden I realized something awful. I no longer had my backpack. I'd put my backpack in the trunk of the taxi. I was so intent on my objectives when I got out, that I completely forgot about it.

By this point, the taxi was long gone. And, of course, I knew nothing distinguishable about either the driver or the car. For once, the taxi driver had had no interest in talking to the toubab who speaks Wolof (a rare occurence). Thus, I remembered nothing remarkable about him except that he was fairly young (25-30), a description that fits about 75% of the taxi drivers in Kaolack.

My mind started racing. What could I do? How could I find this one, non-descript taxi amongst the hundreds of other taxis running every which way around Kaolack? It was pointless. I almost didn't even want to try. But, the realization of everything that had been in that backpack- my nice backpacking backpack (my sleeping bag, my camera, half the clothes I own, my headlamp, my radio, all the gifts I'd brought from Mali for my host family, etc), made me try. How could I be so stupid?

I did the only thing I could think of- I went to talk to the guys at the nearby taxi stand. I asked around, but to no avail. They told me to wait at the corner and wait for him to come by again (the taxi I'd taken was a route taxi- one that generally goes round and round the same route carrying passengers up and down the same road). But how do I wait for a taxi driver who I can't identify? They just shrugged their shoulders. I went to the other taxi stands near the market- they all told me to go back to the stand I'd gone to originally (where the cars going back the way I'd come leave from).

So, I did what the guys originally told me to do- I waited on the corner and tried to look for my taxi. Fortunately, there was one thing that I remembered about the taxi- the front passenger door handle had broken off and there was a short rope in its place to open the door (I realize this sounds odd to everyone back home, but in Senegal, that's fairly common). So, I stood on the opposite side of the road and looked in the door of every taxi that went by.

My behavior caught the attention of the woman selling beignets next to me. What on earth was I doing? I told her my story, clearly upset about the situation. She assured me it would come back and had her daughter (around my age) take me back to talk to the taxi guys so that I could officially declare my missing bag. We did so, and this time, the guys took pity on me (I was more upset this time around and its in Senegalese nature to try and calm someone who is upset). They said they would keep their eyes out, but that I should go back and continue looking for the taxi as I had been doing.

I sat on that corner for over two hours but to no avail. The beignet lady was helping me, as well as other random people who came by and learned of my story. We were stopping taxis left and right. A few started getting annoyed as they'd made their rounds several times while I was sitting there and I'd asked them multiple times.

By this point, all of the taxis, and all of the drivers, looked identical to me. I was ready to give up. But then, this one taxi pulled up. He had a solution for me. He told me I needed to go talk to this one guy- not far from the market; for a small fee, he could help me find, in under three days, whatever had been taken; he knows everything. I agreed to go. In my head, I was imagining some sort of sketchy character who deals in stolen goods and knows all of the theives in town and would have the right kind of connections to help me get my stuff back. But, when we pulled up, this know-all man turned out to be an 80-year old man taking a nap on a cot. I was less than reassured.

The guy who'd brought be over explained the situation. Ok, the old man said, I will do it. But it will cost 8,000cfa (around $16). 8,000cfa for what, exactly?, I asked. For him to make the thing of course, the gris-gris. A gris-gris? A magic talisman to help me find my bag? For 8,000cfa? No thanks. I asked to be taken back to the market. I was giving up.

By this time, my friends where done with lunch. And, it just so happened that this was the day these particular friends were leaving Kaolack- for good (they'd finished their service and now were on to East Africa to travel some more). So, here I was, already upset about being such an idiot with my now lost-forever bag and I have to say goodbye to my friends. A crappy day indeed.

After they left, I gave up. I went back to the taxi guys and gave them my number. If they heard anything about it, they should call me. And, if it was found, I would pay them for their help (I would pay them particularly well if everything was still inside). I left the same message with the beignet lady. But, before I could leave, the head of the taxi stand (the 'coaxer' as they're called here) came over and told me to wait just a bit longer- he was going to verify every taxi. I really had no idea what this meant. How on earth was he going to verify every taxi in Kaolack?

Well, I don't know if he checked every taxi in Kaolack, but he was sure doing his damnest to check every taxi that went by that corner. He was blowing his whistle, yelling at cars, asking everyone who passed if they'd seen my bag. He even demanded to see inside several people's trunks. But, still, nothing. By this point, I'd been sitting on that corner for 3-4 hours. I was tired. I hadn't eaten lunch (though the beignet lady was nice enough to offer me some for free and even bought me a couple small bags of water). The beignet lady finally looked at me and told me to go home. There was nothing more I could do. If they found it, they would call me right away.

So, I left. I went back to my apartment. On the way, I stopped by the boutique on the corner with the main road thinking that maybe the guy had been really nice and brought it back to where I'd gotten in the taxi, assuming that I lived somewhere around there (It happened to a friend of mine that they left a bag in a car and the driver brought it back to the house where he'd dropped her off). But, of course, no. The guy had no idea what I was talking about.

So, I trudged home. I stopped on the way to greet a family that's always very nice to me. And, as I was in the middle of talking to them, my phone rang. Is this the girl with the bag? Yes, that's me. I'm here. The bag is here. Come back to the beignet lady. Instantly, my spirits lifted. But, I didn't want to get too excited. Just cause the bag is back doesn't mean everything is still inside it. I didn't want to get my hopes up. But, I turned around and got right back in a taxi.

I got out right in front of the beignet lady. She was all smiles. Everyone on the corner was (they'd all known my story and had seen me sitting there all day and were thrilled at my happy ending). The taxi driver called me over. And then the 'coaxer' came struting over, carrying my bag over his shoulder, clearly proud of his detective work. I was elated. They made me go through it to make sure everything was still there. And, though it had clearly been gone through prior to my arrival (and I would find out later that my radio batteries had died in the drivers care), everything was still there. I'd given it up for lost, but there it was.

Apparently, as I was dealing with these guys and looking through my bag, I was so happy and intent on what I was doing that I didn't hear two other volunteers standing maybe 15 feet away yelling my name repeatedly. Finally, after 8 or 9 tries, I heard them. I raised my arms in the air and told them I'd gotten my bag back. They had no idea what I was talking about, but I was so excited that they decided to just go with it and yelled back congratulations (as I was finishing with the taxi guys, another one of the sellers on the corner informed them of my ordeal). So, in the end, despite my idiocy, everything turned out well.

Where? Where else in the world could you possibly expect to leave a bag with useful and, at least relatively, valuable items in it, in an unknown, unidentifiable taxi and still expect to get it back? Not many places, I assure you. It was my lucky day.

Tabaski in Djenne (12/8/08)

2008-12-18T15:14:00.003-06:00

When I was originally planning my trip, I hadn't realized that I wouldn't be able to make it back to my village for Tabaski (the Muslim holiday, called Eid al-Adha in the US). I was pretty disappointed about that, but, because I was going to be travelling with a bunch of other people who are then going on to travel elsewhere (they've just completed their Peace Corps service), there was little room to change the dates.

We hadn't done a whole lot of pre-planning for our trip before leaving. We knew some of the places we wanted to visit and we had our overall dates picked out, but what to do and when was still up in the air. That was work to be done on the long bus ride from Senegal to Mali. As it turned out, we were able to spend Tabaski in Djenne, the ancient center of Islamic learning.

To me, it only made sense that we would try to spend this Muslim holiday in a town that was so important historically to the religion. And, as it would turn out, it was a plan well made. As I've previously mentioned, "guides" and other hasslers are a common problem in Mali. But no one wants to work on Tabaski. Everyone spends the day with their family. Thus, when we decided to go for a walk around the island (Djenne is situated on an island), we walked around unmolested. We walked around the entire island (admittedly, it's not that big). We got to see all of the men all dressed up in the morning heading to the mosque as well as seeing them leave the mosque enmasse once it was done. Then, later, we saw all of the kids come out in their fine clothes asking for treats. Finally, it was the women's turn to go out in their finest and travel around town, visiting all of their friends and family. All of this was observed without harassment. It was great. Though perhaps not as nice as spending Tabaski in the village, it was a nice second choice.

A New Appreciation (12/12/08)

2008-12-18T14:40:00.002-06:00

Despite some of the hassles, I'm very glad I was able to take three weeks and go to Mali. However, my trip has left me with a new found appreciation for my life here in Senegal.

Mali, given its historical prominence in ancient West Africa, the presence of both Timbuktu and Djenne, and the popularity of Dogon Country, is a much bigger tourist destination than Senegal. As a part of this, it's transportation system is, at least along the major routes, in much better shape than Senegal's. But, it also means that the local people expect tourists- they've seen them before, dealt with them, are in no way fazed by them, a reality that leads to an overwhelming number of "guides". These "guides" are ready and willing to "help" any and all toubabs (foreigners) who come along (whether they like it or not). They are incessant. They follow you everywhere, offering everything from CDs and souvenirs to guiding services to the various tourist destinations around Mali. It can get pretty annoying.

In Senegal, where people are less used to large numbers of tourists, the hassling isn't nearly as bad. And, when people do get over-eager, I speak the language, so it's easier for me to get them to leave me alone. But, in Mali, none of us spoke Bambara (the dominant language in Mali). Our Wolof skills were useless. Only Kyla, who speaks Pulaar (a variation of which is spoken by some people in Mali), had any luck talking to people in a local language. Most of our interactions were relegated to French, which automatically put us in the same class as all the rest of the tourists. It did nothing to help us from getting hassled or overcharged- even when we knew what price we should be paying. The Malian's also had an especially astute ability to get us in situations where we had to choice but to pay more than everyone else (locals) in order to not be stranded in the middle of no where. Several times, we were forced into this type of "pay more or you're not going anywhere today" situations. It was incredibly frustrating.

Thus, when we finally arrived back in Senegal, I was really excited to be able to speak to people again. The first morning we were back, I spent time at the breakfast sandwich stand chatting and making friends with all the people there. It was a nice welcome back to Senegal. None of the people sitting around the little table were in anyway interested in selling me anything, taking me anywhere, or in any other way hassling me (well, actually, that's not entirely true- one of them wanted me to marry him. But, I'm used to deflecting that particular line of questioning, so it didn't even faze me). It was good to be back!

Waiting (12/10/08)

2008-12-18T14:38:00.001-06:00

If I had to choose one word to describe my trip to Mali, it would be waiting. I have enjoyed my time here and do not regret it one bit. However, Mali is a huge country and a huge chunk of my time here has been spent waiting.

In order to understand the amount of waiting we did on our trip, its necessary to understand how transportation works in Mali. On the one hand, Mali seems to have the transportation thing down. They have a vast system of buses (coach type buses) that run on a regular schedule, leave at a particular time (and not that they just say they will- they actually do!), and tickets can be purchased in advance in order to safe guard your place. Sounds great, right? Well, there's a catch. These buses only run on the main national highway. And, with the exception of the capital city of Bamako, none of the things one comes to Mali to see are actually on this road. You have to leave the main road in order to visit the most popular tourist destinations in Mali. Thus, one is required to use the local transport system of station wagons (which seat 9 in Mali as opposed to 7 in Senegal) and mini-buses (which are packed even more tightly than the ones in Senegal).

Thus, while our transport from Senegal to Bamako and then further in country to Segou and Mopti (using the national highway) were long and covering many miles, they were relatively painless. However, once we started using Mopti as a jumping off point to visit other areas of Mali, we ran into problems.

First, there were problems with waiting 30 hours for our boat down the Niger River. Then, on our way back to Mopti from our boat trip (we went by land), our car broke down a few hours after leaving, around 8am (we'd left bright and early at 5am to allow sufficient time to make the long 8 hour journey). The driver hitched a ride back to town to get us a new car (there are no repair shops- or really anything- along that route through the desert). So, we waited along the side of the road, in the middle of the desert. We sought shade under the few sparse trees that were around us, debating amongst ourselves about how long we thought it would take the driver to get back.

In the end, it would take him 8 hours to find us a new car. We might have considered other options (hitching a ride in another car, for instance), except that there were probably only about 10 or 12 cars that passed us the entire day, none of which were willing to take on stranded passengers. Thus, we were forced to wait. And wait. And wait. The driver, when he'd first made it to the town, did take pity on those of us stuck in the desert and sent a bag full of water and a little food in a car that was heading that way. It was a nice gesture.

Finally, just as we were preparing ourselves for the possibility that we might have to spend the night out in the desert, at about 4:30pm, our driver came rolling up in a new car. By the time we arrived back in Mopti, it had taken us 24 hours to make the trip. Waiting indeed.

Then, later, on our way back from visiting Djenne (the old center of Islamic learning and home of the world's largest mud mosque), we were again stuck in the middle of the desert for some 8 or so hours. As with the last time, we left bright and early to get on the first car leaving town. We were then dropped at the crossroad where we were to catch a car going to Bamako (we were starting to head home). There was a nice man at the crossroad, who got us some breakfast and was going to help us get a car. This was where we made our fateful mistake.

Just after arriving at the crossroad, a mini-bus came up going to Bamako. We rose to go, but our host urged us to stay. We didn't want those little cars, he said. They take too long. Wait for one of the big buses. They will be coming shortly. We agreed, and drank our coffee. Shortly turned into hours, and hours, and hours. Not another car going to Bamako passed us at that intersection.

Finally, some 8 hours later, a bus came up heading to Bamako. It wasn't one of the nice buses we'd come down on. This one had all manner of goats and chickens inside the main compartment (right next to where our seats would be, actually) and had baggage filling the aisle. But, it was the only option to come all day. So, unless we wanted to sleep by the side of the road, we had to go. So, we did. Again, it would take us some 24 hours between when we left that morning and when we arrived at our destination.

Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. And when we weren't technically waiting, we were on some sort of transport waiting to arrive at our destination. It was still a good trip. I'm glad I went. But, you need a lot of patience. Things don't happen quickly (or smoothly).

Mali (11/21/08)

2008-11-21T05:06:00.002-06:00

Prior to now, I have not taken a proper vacation during my Peace Corps service. But, shortly, I will be leaving for the country of Mali, a large desertous country directly to our East. It used to be the intellectual and economic capital of the ancient West African empire. I'll be spending 3 weeks travelling around visiting several places including Dogon Country (the land of the Dogon people who are cliff dwellers who build their homes high up on the cliffs- it's supposed to be a great place to visit) and Djenne, the former capital of the Malian empire where they still have the largest mud mosque in the world. I'm pretty excited. When I get back, there will surely be many new photos and a few new blog posts as well. But, don't plan on hearing from me before I get back. I don't know what email access is like in Mali. So, until December!

The Election (11/04/08)

2008-11-21T04:34:00.002-06:00

The US elections were big news- even here in Senegal. In the few months prior to the election, everyone, when they found out we were American, would ask us who we were voting for. And, all but a very few would tell us that we should vote for Obama. At one point, I was staying in the medical hut at the Peace Corps office and the guard, on our way into the building asked who we were voting for. When all present said Obama, he replied that this was good, cause if any of us had said McCain he would've refused them entry and they would have had to sleep outside.

On election night itself, a number of us got together in Kaolack and watched CNN via satellite at the boutique of a guy we know downtown. We didn't show up there until around 8 or 9pm, shortly before the first polls closed back home. However, prior to leaving for his store, around 6pm (2pm Eastern time), our guard at the house urgently rang the door bell to get our attention. "He won! He won! Obama won!" he exclaimed. "But, Samba," we said, "the voting isn't done yet. Its still too early to say for sure." He looked at us very confused. "But the radio just said it was over. They said it was official. Obama wins!," he said. Apparently, the local Kaolack stations can tell the future (or maybe its just not really that reliable...). Nonetheless, the US elections were big enough news around the world that everyone was eagerly awaiting news (and everyone I met was hoping it would be Obama).

We watched the election coverage until 4:30am when McCain finally ceded the election. Fortunately, everyone was happy with us that next day. Anyone who found out we were American would instantly yell, "Obama!" It was a good day to walk down the street as American. I hope everyone back home is as happy about the outcome.

A New Baby! (10/28/08)

2008-10-28T15:52:00.002-06:00

About 3 weeks ago, Maguette Ndao, one of the women in my compound had a baby girl. Despite the fact that she'd been denying it for months, she was clearly pregnant (In Senegal, one does not openly talk about being pregnant, even when it becomes obvious).

I'd actually thought she wasn't due until November (part of not talking about it with other people is that others often have to guess at due dates), but then one day she called me when I was in Kaolack and told me she'd given birth the night before.

She gave birth to a little baby girl, about 3kg (a very normal weight for a newborn). It was an exciting day. Then, last week, we threw the Ngente (baptism/naming ceremony). It was a big fete; the whole town came as well as various relatives from other villages. And now, there is one more in our compound.

A New Job (10/28/08)

2008-10-28T11:47:00.002-06:00

As I'm sure you've just read, several modern conveniences have just arrived chez moi recently. Electricity and the internet are a pretty big deal. And, though I've learned to live without these things, having them would be very nice.

But, as it turns out, I won't be around that much to enjoy them. I've applied for and been accepted to be the new Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL) for the region of Kaolack. As this new PCVL, I will be moving to the city of Kaolack (into a really nice, huge apartment, no less). And, in Kaolack comes all of the modern conveniences one would imagine come with being in a city. My new apartment comes equiped with both electricity and running water (including an overhead shower!). And, since I have my own computer, I'm going to get internet installed. They call it high speed, though reports suggest a connection a bit slower than you might hope for. But it'll still be a constant internet connection- no need to pay by the hour to use a clogged connection on someone else's computer in a lab that doesn't necessarily keep a regular schedule of hours. Having my own internet will be amazing!

I'm pretty excited about my new job. Though I love my village, and I like the work that I did there (I will continue a couple of the projects I started), the work I will be doing in Kaolack will be much more along the lines of what I want to do long term. My primary task will be in managing and maintaining our Regional Strategy Plan (a volunteer driven set of regional goals that we want to acheive over the next several years). I will also be in charge of coordinating regional activities and being a liason with the office in Dakar and with local NGO's. Basically, its more in the line of NGO management, which is what I'm looking for in the long term. I'm pretty excited about it.

So, all in all, this a great move for me. Its just kind of funny that it comes at a time right when all sorts of new amenities are coming to my village. But, I guess I would've prefered it that way. I liked the fact that I didn't have electricity or internet nearby. It's more of the classic Peace Corps experience. But, in any case, these amenities will still be around for the next volunteer who comes to replace me in the spring. Oh, and, as an added part of this new position, I've agreed to stay on with the Peace Corps into next summer (I would've finished my service in May, but have agreed to stay on until July or Aug, depending on where I get into grad school and when it starts). That, too, is a decision I'm happy with. As a whole, I enjoy the time that I spend here.

Modern Conveniences (10/28/08)

2008-10-28T11:33:00.002-06:00

Alhumdulilah! (Thanks be to God!)

Things are changing in Ndiago. Several weeks ago, I got a text message from my counterpart who works at the health post in my village saying that the internet had come to town. He'd been talking about wanting to get for a long time. And, he'd been told by the service provider that it was in fact available even all the way out in the village. But, it still took a while. Then, one day, it came. I believe it is a dial-up connection. So no uploading photos or other high-bandwidth tasks, but I can check my email. That alone was pretty exciting.

But then, about a week and a half ago, I was visiting Kaolack and got a call from my host dad. He told me he needed a copy of my room key (why he hadn't asked me for this that morning when I was still in Ndiago, I'm not sure). When I asked why, he responded that people were coming the next day to install an electric light in my room. An electric light! Woohoo! My host family had been talking about wanting to bring electricity to our compound for a while. But, these things take time (and money), and often stay dreams for a long time before actually happening. There'd been debate among my host dad's wives as to whether or not it would happen before I finished my service. They both decided that it probably wouldn't. But, it did. Just one day, out of the blue, it came. I sent my key to the village the following morning (I had to send it via a series of 2 proxies- my closest volunteer neighbor has a spare key, and she sent it with someone via a horse drawn cart to my village the next morning) and when I arrived back in Ndiago, the light was sitting there looking all clean bright (though admittedly, the actual electricity to turn it on had not yet arrived- that's something I'm hoping will happen soon. But, nonetheless, I now have a nice light in my room (which I hope to be able to use soon).

To those of you in America where electric lights are generally a given and internet (high-speed internet, even) is profuse, these things may not seem like a big deal. But, for a little village like Ndiago, it's pretty exciting. Things are advancing.

Mouse Tainted Dreams (10/6/08)

2008-10-08T08:24:00.000-06:00

You may not think it, but mice are very smart. For the past 2 months, I’ve been trying to get rid of the mice in my room. I’ve laid down poisoned food several times. I’ve even put the poison practically inside their nest. But, nonetheless, one remains. I’ve killed several. But, one still runs around my room at night. He knows not to eat the poison I’ve laid out. He’s smart. And he’s super quick too. I’ve tried to find him several times, but to little avail. At night, I’ll hear him by my bed, silently grab my flashlight and shine it in the direction of the noise. But, by the time my eyes have a chance to focus, he’s gone.

Probably the worst part about this mouse is that he lives above my bed. So, every night as he comes down to run around my room, he passes right by my head. I have a mosquito net. So he can’t crawl on me. But, he crawls right by my head. I woke up to the noise he was making one night and when I opened my eyes, my face just inches from the mosquito net, there he was, just two inches from my face on the other side of the mosquito net. Thank God for mosquito nets. Though I can’t say I like having him in my hut (he makes a lot of noise, eats my things, and leaves poop all over), its not that bad as long as he can’t actually crawl all over me. There is a separation- a line, if you will, that he cannot cross.

I’m still not sure what to do about this mouse. If he stays, he will find another mate and make more babies- all the more to eat my things and wake me up at night. But, he’s still there. And, until I can figure out a way to outsmart this little mouse, he’ll be here to stay.

Korite (10/1/08)

2008-10-08T08:22:00.000-06:00

Ramadan, the month of Muslim fasting, is over. And, as anyone who has spent the last month fasting would do, they throw a party when it’s done. In Senegal, this party is known as Korite.

The festivities start the night before when the women mix up a big batch of beignet batter. Beignets are small bits of fried dough (a little like a donut hole). The next day, the family will fry them up and eat them for breakfast. Then, the women will send a few beignets around to each of their friends and relatives (which in turn means each woman will receive about as many beignets as she gives out, ensuring that there will be plenty beignets to eat all day long). Shortly thereafter, the men will all get dressed up in their finest and head off to the mosque.

Then, its time to start preparing lunch. Korite lunch is always a good meal. This Korite, we had chicken with an onion and potato sauce. Some families will have this served over macaroni, but otherwise it’s a very traditional Korite dish (so much so that the day before, when I went to the market to buy vegetables like I always do, the only thing the vendors were selling was onions and potatoes- no carrots, egg plants, or cabbage to be found).

Once the men (and the young boys) are finished at the mosque, they go around the village to every compound asking for forgiveness for the years’ sins. It’s always cute to see the really little boys copying their older brothers, shaking everyone in the compound’s hand and asking “Baal ma aq” (Forgive me). This part is fun for people- they get to see all of the village relatives who live elsewhere and only come back for holidays. Lots of greeting and talk of family news.

Once lunch comes, the men go around in groups, eating at several different compounds (determined by their status in the village and their relationships with the other heads of households). The women and children, however, generally only eat in their own compound.

As it starts to cool off, everyone takes their showers and puts on their finery (for the men who went to the mosque earlier, their really nice clothes had been replaced by something a little more practical after they finished their rounds asking for forgiveness). Then, it’s the women’s turn to go around the village door to door asking for forgiveness.

Then, when the sun goes down, it’s dinner time. On Korite, since much of the day has been spent eating, dinner is generally heated up leftovers from lunch. But, at least in my opinion, it still tastes really good.

Finally, once it gets really late, there is a “soiree”, a dance. There are various soirees held throughout the year in my village, but they’re generally of two types. The first is the type that everyone attends. Young and old alike get together and dance. These dances are a lot of fun. The other kind is just for the young (generally unmarried) people. Being as relationships between the sexes here are not as open as they are in the States, these dances are rare opportunities for young single people to openly mingle, flirt, and hang out together with people of the opposite sex. But, also because these opportunities are pretty rare, they can be as awkward as a middle school dance, with all of the attendant awkwardness and cautious advances (including the initial girls on this side of the room and the boys on the other). I’ve been to a few of these dances. But, being as I’m not a huge dancer to begin with, and after having to fend off several overly zealous suitors (here, a woman’s reluctance to dance or otherwise engage with a man can often be regarded as flirting- indeed many girls here do flirt like this- but not me. If I say I don’t want to dance, I mean it) as well as just watching the overall awkwardness of the events, I’ve sworn off of them. I went to the one last year. But, this year, I chose to just go to bed early. And, all in all, I had a pretty good Korite.

Malaria (9/8/08)

2008-09-08T05:34:00.002-06:00

So, as you all probably know, malaria is a big problem in Senegal. And, hopefully, you also know that I had a big anti-malaria program in my village. We made tons of locally made mosquito repellent, held a few radio health lessons, and did village cleanups, all in hopes of reducing the rate of malaria. Last year, there were 58 cases of malaria in my village alone (out of a total population of about 300). Well, though I have a short period of time that I still need to check out in the health post's register, I don't believe there has been a single case diagnosed this year. That's right, not a single case.

Now leaves the question of why. Though I'd like to attribute it all to my work and the programs I helped implement, I don't know that that would be quite honest. You see, by looking at the rest of the register in the health post, the rate of malaria across the board has gone down quite significantly. There've been a few cases, but not nearly as many as last year. The biggest part of this reduction, I believe has been the introduction of a new rapid test for malaria in all of the health posts.

You see, prior to this year, malaria was diagnosed solely based on the presence of symptoms. The problem is that the symptoms for malaria are fairly generic (high fever, chills, body aches, vomitting, diarrhea). Well, there are a number of illnesses that could cause these symptoms (the flu, various types of infections, even severe dehydration would give you some of them). So, I knew (and even the health workers here know) that malaria is over diagnosed. The problem was that there was no way for a small health post to actually test someone's blood to verify the presence of malaria. And, if a health worker didn't diagnose malaria right away, and it turned out that they really did have it, that could be deadly, as malaria can enter the brain and become very serious and often fatal. So, many illnesses that may not be malaria get diagnosed as such.

I knew the health post was going to get these rapid malaria tests this year. So, I knew the rate would go down. But, I didn't realize how much it would go down by. I'm still trying to figure out how much of the reduction is due to the rapid test and how much is due to the programs we implemented. I don't know the answer to that question. But, I hope to find out. I'm checking with other health volunteers to see what they've seen in their respective health posts. I'll let you all know when I figure more out. But, until then, just know that Ndiago has great news! No malaria in 2008!

Ben & Jerry's (9/6/08)

2008-09-06T04:43:00.002-06:00

Many have assumed that here in Senegal, we have no access to any of the finer points of life. We lack decent Western food- ice cream, pizza, a normal burger, etc. And, to a large extent, this might be true. However, if there is a place in Senegal to get it (or in all of West Africa even), Dakar is the place. And recently, a grocery store near the Peace Corps office started carrying Ben & Jerry's ice cream. And, well, as you can imagine, it's been a hit among volunteers (and probably a lot of the American staff as well). It comes with a price tag, though- 4400cfa (about $10) per pint. But, having just purchased a pint of Vanilla Toffee Crunch, I can attest that it was worth it. It's the little things- like a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream- that make us smile.

Ahmed (9/4/08)

2008-09-04T16:43:00.003-06:00

This is just a quick update for those of you who are interested to know how my friend M'Bissin's little boy is doing. Several people commented to me about how they had been affected after I wrote the blog entry about my friend M'Bissin giving birth to twins who were very underweight, a problem that led to the little girl's death within 24 hours. The little boy, Ahmed, survived. And, I'm happy to say, has been steadily gaining weight. I visited them all in Thiakalar (M'Bissin's husband's village where she now lives) last week. They are all doing well. And, Ahmed especially is doing well. She continues to get him weighed every month at the local health hut. And, though she complains about how little the woman who runs the program actually tells her (she won't tell the mothers how much their kids weigh or how much they have gained since the last month), she did say that last month the woman told her that Ahmed was now in the Green Zone (there are Green, Yellow, and Red zones- Green is good, Yellow is bad, and Red is very bad- Ahmed was nearly in the Red when he was born). So being in the green zone is very good news. I know babies born in a similar situation who took over a year to catch up to a normal weight. So its amazing that he's been able to catch up in just about 5 months. It is very good news indeed.

Car Accidents in Senegal (9/3/08)

2008-09-03T12:33:00.003-06:00

I'm going to preface the following entry by saying that, yes, I was recently in a car accident, thus the subject of this post. But, it wasn't an accident of any consequence (as you will see), no one was hurt, etc, but I thought the whole experience was a bit strange. So, I thought I'd write about it.

I was on my way into Dakar. I'd been riding in the 7-place (7 seater station wagon) for several hours, and was ready to get to my final destination. And we were nearly there. But, we kept getting stuck in the constant traffic found in the towns of Rufisque and Thiaroye outside of Dakar.

Now, before continuing the story, I need to describe for you all how traffic works in Senegal. There is a road. In Dakar, this road is likely wide enough to be considered two lanes. However, the use of lanes is somewhat optional. The use of blinkers, unheard of. And when there is a lot of traffic, using the dirt shoulder is in no way out of bounds. And motorcycles are not subject to any of the even vague rules existing for cars. Motos go in and out and between cars. Its a wonder more people don't die on them here (perhaps this is why Peace Corps forbids volunteers from riding on them).

Back to the story. So, we were stuck in all of this traffic- horns occassionally honking, motos whipping past, people lane changing at will, cutting others off, etc. But, all in all, a more or less normal trip into Dakar, with the one exception that it seemed to be taking an extra long time to get through these traffic jams. Then, we found out why. At two different points, traffic accidents had completely stopped traffic in one 'lane', thus causing your obvious bottlenecks. The strange thing was was that when we finally passed the sites of these accidents, there were no people. No drivers, no passengers, no police. They'd all just abandoned their cars on the road (I assume the were inoperable from the accidents) and their drivers were off trying to find a way to get their car back (quick and fast towing services aren't exactly widespread here). And so the cars sat, blocking traffic, for who knows how long.

Then, as we were sitting in stop and go traffic, we were hit by a truck (a big 18 wheeler type of truck). We were in the 'middle lane'. I use that term loosely here, because the road we were on was probably only meant for 2 lanes, but, with a little use of the dirt shoulder, accomodated 3 closely spaced cars and a few weaving motos. Well, the 'lanes' got too close together, and the big truck grazed the side of our station wagon. The most obvious damage was the drivers' side rearview mirror. It was all bent up and cracked (though, to be honest, I can't say it necessarily had looked that much better before getting hit- car maintenance isn't exactly what it is in the States). But then, the engine started smoking. The hit, even though it hadn't been severe, must have cracked or dislodged something because all of the cooling fluid (which, in the case of Senegal probably mostly means plain water) had spilled all over the ground.

Now comes the strangest part of the whole incident. The driver never said a word. The two drivers didn't get out and talk. There was never a discussion of who should pay for what (not that repairs would ever get paid- there is no real system of insurance here). Our driver never even said a word to the truck driver. He didn't yell, exclaim, or in any way shape or form express displeasure at the accident. It was as though he had just accepted it as part of what it means to be a 7-place driver. He wasn't even surprised it happened. It was only us passengers who made any kind of exclamation when the truck grazed our car. The driver just fiddled with the mirror a bit and then, when he noticed the coolant problem, stopped the car (well, we were already at a dead stop in traffic, so really, he just turned it off) and filled the radiator with water. Further down the road, he pulled over another 7-place driver to ask him to use his extra water (each car always carries a jug of water for coolant purposes- our driver had had to use all of his store the first time we stopped). Beyond that, there was no word about the accident with the big truck.

Though I can't say I was extremely shocked by this (it's not like stopping to talk to the truck driver would have come to anything anyway, and police are almost never used in such situations), but it was still strange to see how calmly the driver accepted what had happened. It's hard to imagine anything like that going unmentioned in the States. The police, insurance companies, a repair shop, and maybe even some lawyers would've been contacted almost immediately. Someone would have to pay. Never would it be just simply accepted as a likely and probably risk of being an automobile driver.

Training Tomorrow's Leaders (8/31/08)

2008-09-03T12:06:00.003-06:00

We are well into the rainy season. Actually, if history holds true, we are nearing the end of it. It's been a pretty decent rainy season- at least compared to last years miserable one. It's now into Aug and its still raining pretty regularly (by this, I mean it rains for maybe an hour or so every few days).

Well, one of the things that go along with the rainy season is planting trees. The region where I live (the Kaolack region) has been gretly deforested over the years. I'm told that even just 50 years ago, this area was almost completely covered in forests. Today, the trees are pretty few and far between. And the depletion in soil quality is evidence of this overall desertification (the Sahara likes to creep further and further south, encroaching further into Senegal).

In response, Peace Corps Senegal has an entire program sector of volunteers devoted strictly to trees: the agroforestry program. I'm not an agfo volunteer. But, all volunteers are encouraged to make a tree nursery (pepineer). And I did. I planted about 150 trees in little plastic bags behind my hut. But, due to some pest problems and other issues, only about 100 survived. But, 100 trees is a fair number considering that planting them in my village will probably increase the total number of trees in the village by about 50%.

Well, now that we've been making our way steadily through the rainy season, I've been spending a lot of my time going from compound to compound planting trees. Each time I go out, I have an entourage of children ready and willing to help. At one point, I took a quick head count and realized that I had 18 kids between the ages of 2 and 12 trailing behind me. And they all do want to help, too. Even if it just means carrying the water kettle I bring with me or the trowel-like thing I bring to dig. Indeed, fights have broken out over who gets to carry what, or who gets to push the dirt back in the hole.

All in all, despite the fights, the process has gone pretty well. And there's been so much repetition in the whole process (I've now planted all of the trees) that at least some of the kids fully know how to plant a tree.

I woke up this morning to find the two youngest kids in my compound planting a "tree" outside my front door. They (a brother and sister ages 5 and 3 respectively, who have been among my most devoted followers) were very proud of their newly planted "tree" (it was, in fact, a weed that they had pulled out of the ground elsewhere in the compound and then transplanted near my front door). But, they were very excited about it (they've even done this before). But today, they were so motivated in their "tree planting" that they went ahead and put sticks up around the "tree" to protect it (protecting fledgling trees is very important as once the dry season hits, the goats and donkeys will eat anything green within their reach, and so I had pushed this importance with each tree I'd planted). The kids then proceeded to ask me to water their new "tree". I, of course, obliged.

Now, I highly doubt any of these new "trees" the kids have been planting will survive beyond 24 hours (especially given the kids' penchant for pulling up these same "trees" later in the day). But, I enjoy the tree planting spirit. Kaolack needs more trees. And as long as there are some true trees planted along with the fake ones, I think it will be good. I hope it continues.

Life After the Peace Corps (7/29/08)

2008-07-29T05:07:00.002-06:00

I have a little under a year left before I COS (Peace Corps speak for finishing one's service on time). But, I'm already starting to think about what I plan to do afterwards.

My hope is to go to graduate school. I'd like to continue studying International Development. I don't know if that would lead to a career based in the US or abroad, but I do know that working with international non-profits/NGOs is were I'd like my life to lead.

I'm still researching schools, but so far I'm basing my search mainly on those schools that provide a Peace Corps Fellows Program (each school's program is different but all the programs offer some sort of scholarship or reduction in the number of credits required for a degree to all Returned Peace Corps Volunteers). The schools I'm looking at now are:
The University of Denver
John's Hopkins
Princeton University
The School for International Training
Fordham University

I won't have to apply to any schools for several months yet, but I'm trying to do as much research as I can, especially when I have a chance to use the internet as much as I like here in Dakar.

So far, it looks like all of the schools have very good programs in International Development, and all of them would give me a great education (should I be accepted, of course). So now, my task is to weed through them and try and decide which program would best fit my goals/personality/etc (and, eventually, figure out which one would offer me the most money). I don't have an answer yet, but I can say that, as of right now, my top choices are the University of Denver and John's Hopkins- they seem to fit my goals the best. But, only time will tell.

Neem Lotion Recipe (7/26/08)

2008-07-26T08:23:00.002-06:00

In response to someone's comment on my most recent entry regarding neem lotion (a message I can't figure out how to respond to directly and so therefore am just adding the response as a post), here is the recipe I use to make neem lotion. Other types of soap can be used than the one listed here. But, changing the type of soap does change the proportions a little (mainly the proportion of water), so keep that in mind if you use a different kind. I've tried out several different types of soap available in Senegal and this one works the best- it produces the most neem lotion for its cost and is also scented, which people like a lot in the lotion and covers up the neem smell.

1 lg (400-500g) bar of "Fanico" soap (also known generically as 'savon de marseille')
Nearly 1.5L of water (I boil this much water, but usually end up leaving a slight amount in the pot)
Broken Neem leaves (approx. one coffee cup full)
1/10L oil (100cfa worth in Senegal)

Directions:

-Grate the bar of soap into small pieces (grating works better than cutting as larger pieces have a harder time dissolving into the water- using a metal lid with nail holes poked into it works well).
-Collect the neem leaves and break them several times (it helps release the oils)
-Add the cut up neem leaves to the water and boil. The water will start to turn green and will start to smell. This is good. Leave the water to boil for 5-10min.
-Strain out the neem leaves, adding just the water to the grated soap.
-Stir until everything is dissolved (this may take a while)
-Add the 100cfa (1/10L) oil and mix well
-Wait for the mixture to cool, stirring periodically to make sure it is still well mixed
-Distribute as you see fit (plastic bags, small containers, etc)

I hope this helps!

Neem Lotion (7/25/08)

2008-07-25T13:25:00.002-06:00

I believed I've mentioned in prior posts about my neem lotion project in my village. Neem lotion is a mosquito repellent that is made from very basic ingredients (a bar of soap, water, some leaves from the neem tree, and a little bit of oil). I had made a batch of it last year, giving out little samples all over my village. But, though people thought it was a great idea- a lotion that scares away the mosquitos- no one was motivated enough to buy the few ingredients and make it themselves.

So, this year, I decided to make them a challenge. If they could all pitch in the money to make the lotion (I told them 50cfa (about $.10) per person), I would make enough lotion for the entire village for the whole rainy season. Well, they agreed. And, though I wasn't able to collect money from every single person, I was able to collect the majority, and, so, I made the lotion.

But, of course, Ndiago is not an insular place. People go in and out to the nearby town, travel between the villages, etc. People talk. And soon I had people coming from other villages asking for the lotion. And who am I to deny people who want to avoid getting malaria? And so I've been making neem lotion like a mad woman. Thus far, I have made 39 batches and about 450 individual packets of lotion. It's crazy. I can barely make enough of it. For two weeks, that's more or less all I did. And it's painstaking labor, too.

Each bar of soap (approx. a 1lb bar of soap) has to be grated into small bits so that it can be dissolved into hot water. And there aren't nice contraptions like cheese graters or potato peelers here. Instead, I've used the metal tops to old oatmeal containers and pounded nail holes into them to use as graters. They work pretty well. But, unfortunately, the type of soap I use is very soft, and it gets caught up in the holes a lot, so that you have to stop periodically and clean out the grater. One bar of soap can take as long as an hour for a single person to grate (I am now down to an efficient 40 minutes per bar, and I have the blisters to prove it). To help me with this task, I have employed the help of several neighborhood girls. They seem pretty eager to help out, especially when I offer to buy them little treats and give them a few cfa at the end of their labors. But still, I have been grating soap like crazy. And then there is the mixing, the cooling, and the bagging. It's kind of a process. Not too bad if you're just making a batch or two. But, if you're making 39, it's pretty intense. My record for one day was 9 batches- and that was working (with the help of half a dozen 12 year old girls) from about 10am-8pm (minus lunch and dinner).

I should note here that the girls aren't working all that time. I'm not running a sweat shop here. They kind of come and go when they want. Some will leave and others will come. And they are surprisingly dedicated. One of the girls in particular would be waiting for me before I finished my normal chores on mornings on which I'd said I was going to make the lotion.

Now that the lotion is becoming such a success, I'm trying to hand it off to someone local. I hadn't really intended on making so much of the lotion. It just kind of happened. But I want them to keep using it, to make it sustainable, if you will. So, I'm trying to help my cousin make and sell the lotion. We will see how well that works.

So, what started out as just a sort of large scale project (covering my whole village) ended up being a much bigger deal. And that's awesome. People are preventing malaria (a mosquito born illness that is the number one killer in Senegal and much of Africa). And that's my job.

Computers Suck (7/25/08)

2008-07-25T12:51:00.002-06:00

Computers suck. Well, not when they work. When they work, they are amazing contraptions, allowing you to connect with anyone and everyone at anytime, anywhere (even from a place as remote as Senegal, Africa). But, when they don't work, they are just clumsy, expensive heaps of metal that take hours of painstaking work to fix.

Now, really, maybe I shouldn't blame it all on the computers themselves. Really, much of the blame belongs with those who take a perverse pleasure in destroying our beloved machines. And by this, I mean the people who love to sit around and create computer viruses. Now, I'm all for the creative mind and coming up with new inventions and ideas, but really? Viruses? Trojans? Worms? Is that really necessary? What purpose does that serve?

As you can probably guess, yes, my computer has been infected by a virus. Or a trojan horse. Or a worm. I can't say for sure. All I know is that I showed up at the cyber cafe one day, tried to turn on my laptop and was greeted with a logon/logoff loop that ultimately refused to log me on to Windows XP. I could see my background (currently a wonderful blue ocean picture I took when I was in Mexico), but then, before loading any programs/start buttons/etc, it would send me right back to the Windows logon screen. Not even Safe Mode would work. Crap!

Now, fortunately for me, I have at least some knowledge and interest in computers, and I have spent many hours troubleshooting various virus/installation/compatability issues in the past, much to my dismay. So, though I'm no techie by any means, I do more or less know my way around a computer. And thus I set out to repair this apparent bug. For if I could not, this expensive heap of metal that I had hand-delivered to me in Senegal would remain just that- a heap of metal, completely useless to anyone.

Now, if I were in America, this would be much easier. It wouldn't be very difficult to find someone else who would allow me to borrow their computer for a time to search for a fix. But here, you must go to a cyber cafe where you have to pay by the hour to use a slow connection on a computer that is full of viruses (indeed, the likely source of the virus which now plagues my own computer). Or, you can use the Peace Corps computer at the regional house which is not connected to the internet, is also full of viruses (thanks to the need to use flash drives to carry files to and from the cyber cafes), and, in our case, doesn't have a working CD drive. Oh, and PC doesn't allow you to run ANY non-preinstalled software (in theory to prevent it from getting viruses, though the flash drives take care of that). So, that's not a very helpful option.

Well, without going into boring technical details, this has posed itself to be a much more difficult task than I had anticipated. I am now in Dakar (for unrelated reasons), which is nice, as it allows me constant free access to the internet (at the Peace Corps office). But, it is still offering to be quite difficult. I went to the cyber cafe this morning to try burning a CD that claimed it would fix my problem. I got an error. I've searched for alternate fixes, tried them, took hours to figure out how exactly to do them, only to be proved out smarted once again by someone's perverse joke- this stupid virus. I came to the computer lab in the office just after lunch- perhaps 1pm. It is now 7pm. Though I have logged back onto my computer (thankfully making it possible to backup all my files just in case this doesn't work permantly), I am still working on figuring out the details as I now get several weird errors and who knows whether or not there are still any remnants of this virus left undetected on my computer (I should note that I do, in fact, have anti-virus/firewall software on my computer).

So, though the world of computers is looking a little brighter for me at the moment, it is still an uncertain and demanding task to keep a computer up and running (and here I thought the dust and sand was going to pose the greatest threat to my computer here in Senegal).

A Fork? (6/19/08)

2008-06-19T11:09:00.002-06:00

This story comes from a ways back. But, I was trying to think of some funny anecodotes I could write about, and thought of this one. I thought it was funny.

So, back when my parents came to visit, they came to stay in my village for a few days. My host family was really excited, and I think my parents enjoyed it as well. Well, knowing that my parents might not be up for completely going with the local diet, I had more or less planned out what we were going to have. Two nights, we would have a really good salad that my family makes, and the last night we would have a traditional dinner (millet-based couscous).

In anticipation of this, I had planned on buying a couple forks. I didn't own any forks. Most people here, even if they own silverware (many don't), they only have spoons. And such is the case with me.

Most food here is eaten with your hands. In the case of salad, the typical way to eat it is to have some bread, break off a piece, and use that to scoop up some of the salad. I didn't think my parents would be up for that. So, I wanted to buy some forks for when they came.

Well, with all the other preparations and travelling prior to their arrival, I'd completely forgotten. Even after they arrived in country and we were on our way to the village, I forgot. I'd think of it, but only at the wrong times. So, then came the time for us to actually eat the salad dinner. Hoping for some sort of solution, I asked my host family if they had any forks. They looked somewhat bewilderedly at each other and shrugged. No, no forks in the compound. So, I asked if anyone else we knew might have forks. They thought about it, their brows furrowed, trying to figure out a way to help their guests.

Ah hah! My counterparts at the health post had forks! But do they have two forks? Again, furrowed brows. No, just one fork. Would anyone else in the village have forks? No, just at the health post. Really, only one fork? Really, only one fork.

So, in the entire village, there is only one fork to speak of. The Senegales are not generally fork users. My family had actually looked at me a bit strangely when I'd asked about forks. Though I explained it was to eat the salad and they gave up asking why, they still seemed confused as to why my parents would want to eat salad with a fork. Everything can be eaten with your hands, or, at most, a spoon.

And that's what my parents had to do. They had to eat salad (good salad, I must add), with a spoon. They were troopers.

Happy Birthday To Me? (6/19/08)

2008-06-19T10:34:00.003-06:00

So, it was my birthday the other day- June 16th. And, though I can't say it was a horrible birthday, it did come with a few surprises this year.

This year, my birthday just happened to fall on the day before I was supposed to come to Dakar for a couple booster shots. And, since I had to come for the shots, I decided to make my mid-service, I've been here over a year, medical check-up for the same time. So, already, I was planning on being on the road on my birthday (on the way to Dakar).

Well, then, for a while before my birthday, I hadn't been feeling all that well. Well, actually, I felt fine. But was having some, well, digestive issues. Had called the medical office a couple times, but the treatments I was put on weren't working. But, with the medical appointment coming up, I didn't think too much of it, as we'd figure it out when I got to Dakar; and it wasn't that life altering anyhow.

But then, a little less than a week before I was set to come to Dakar, I started getting truly sick. I had a fever, body aches, sore throat, etc. But, last year, when I'd gotten ameobas, the same type of thing had happened. So, I didn't think much of it. Just figured it was some opportunistic cold/flu like bug taking advantage of my weakened immune system. So, I just waited and came to Dakar. But, I did call Dakar ahead of time to ask if I could stay in the Medical Hut (rooms set aside at the office for sick volunteers to use). She told me it'd be no problem to stay in the Med Hut and to just come right to the office when I got in.

Well, I did. She did a quick exam and diagnosed me with strep throat. So, not just some random opportunistic bug after all- or rather, an opportunistic bug that actually required treatment. So, she put me on a course of penicillin. And said we'd figure out the rest of it the next day when I had my actual appointment- she'd just been concerned about the possible strep throat (apparently well foundedly).

Well, so my actual appointment came. All went well. I don't have TB or any other major illnesses. But, I did have Giardia. Lucky me.

So, to tally up my birthday, I: had to travel several hours in the hot sun in a cramped car, got strep throat, and had giardia. Lai! :) But, I'll live. I'm on several different drugs now, and, within the next week, all should be better. So, no worrying. But, I did think it was an interesting story I could share. :)

The Dog (6/17/08)

2008-06-17T16:06:00.003-06:00

And now, I have a kind of sad entry to make. My dog, Puppy, is missing. I don't really imagine he's going to come back. :(

Several weeks ago, now, my dog started acting very strangly. Normally, she was a very mild mannered dog- didn't really get upset by much. Especially in the heat of the day, all she would do is lie around. The little kids could come up to her, pull on her ears, poke her, etc, and she would barely move (or at most she would just move away). In her more active times (during the cooler parts of the day), she liked to play, and would often jump up on the little kids, but it was only to try to lick them or play with them. She'd never growled at anyone except the other animals (dogs, cats, donkeys, sheep, etc- all those, she loved to bark at. In fact, I was trying to train her to chase them out of our compound).

Well, so, one day, I was sitting outside reading a book, and she was lying under my chair (she liked to do that, as the chair offers some protection from inquiring children). And there was a group of kids playing football near by. And, all the sudden, the kids got too close, and she growled (really growled) at them and even tried to bite one of them. I immediately grabbed her and tied her up (a normal thing I do when she got out of hand). I left her tied up for a couple hours and let her loose again. But she did the same thing again. And this time, when I tried to grab her again, she growled and tried to bite me as well. That, for sure, I had never seen before.

That's when I started getting worried. And, of course, dog acting strangly, the first thing that comes to mind is rabies. And, of course, I had been meaning to vaccinate her, but, because the vaccine has to be refridgerated, it was difficult getting it up to my village and then finding someone there who could administer it. So, I hadn't done it yet.

But, I didn't know if she was maybe just sick and tempermental, or if something was really wrong. So, I tied her up. We kept her tied up for 2 days. Most of the time, she was ok, but there were a few people she tried to bite and snarl at when they walked past. I wasn't ready to let her loose. But, of course, she didn't like being tied up to a tree. And, being as little as she is, figured out a way to wiggle out of her collar. I tried re-tying it, but once she learned how to do it, she kept getting out. My family told me to just leave her. She ran into the horse pen and just layed there, so it wasn't a big deal (she was friendly with the horses).

But, I was still leary. If she really did have rabies, as the illness progressed, she could go crazy and start attacking anyone and everyone. I don't know what I'd do if I brought that on my village. A friend suggested I make one of those harnesses- the ones that go around the neck, but also around the belly with some rope. She couldn't get out of that so easily. So, I did. And bribed her with some milk to make her sit still and not get upset while I put it on.

But, I never had a chance to try it out. That next morning, before I got up, my cousin saw her run off into the bush with another dog. We haven't seen her since. It's been several weeks now.

At first, it was kind of like when a child goes missing in the states, and their name gets put up all over the tv and the police are bombarded with false leads of people saying they think they saw her. First, one of the talibe (koranic school students) from a neighboring village said he'd seen her near his house. I actually went all the way over there to check it out. But there was no sign of her. Then, later, someone else told me they'd seen her in another neighboring village. And then someone else said they saw her in the complete opposite direction in another village.

So, I never had a chance to find out what was wrong with my dog. She was sick, for sure. Her eyes got all red and pus was coming out, like she had pink eye. But I have no idea if she really had rabies. If she did, she's dead by now. :( If she didn't, she's either running around with one of the wild packs of dogs in the area or was caught by someone else in a neighboring village who is keeping her there as their dog. I simply have no idea.

I hadn't really wanted a dog in the first place, but it was still sad to see her go- especially under such weird circumstances. Even my family, who had been skeptical about the dog from the beginning, was sad she wasn't around anymore. My host mom has a habit of, when she's upset, muttering to herself as she does her work. Well, the day after the dog left, she was muttering about how the dog has left us all alone. "Puppy has left us all alone." It was cute.

M'Bissin Gets Married (6/17/08)

2008-06-17T14:18:00.002-06:00

Just thought I'd give everyone an update on M'Bissin (my friend in the village who had the two little twins). She just got married! Well, actually, that's inaccurate. She's been married for a while (they already have a little girl who is coming up on 2 years old). But, in Senegal, there are two steps to getting married.

The first is the actual marriage (literally translated, the joining or the binding). This part happens at the mosque among the men (though there is a party back at the home for everyone). The second part is when the new bride moves into the compound of the new husband's family (all families live in extended families, with tons of cousins, aunts, grandparents, etc). And the wife always moves to live with the husband's family.

Most of the time, these two parts happen together, and the new bride goes directly to live with the husband's family. But, in some cases, it doesn't. In M'Bissin's case, she didn't go directly to live with her husband mainly because doing so would leave her aging mom at home alone to do all the work for her sons. So she stayed in her family compound to help her mom out. Well, recently, her husband decided that it was really time for her to come live with his family. So, they threw a big party on both the going away and on the receiving ends of that move. And I went with her when she went to her new home.

I think she had a hard time moving. After all, she's leaving all she's ever known- all her friends, family, etc. She seemed sort of depressed when we first got there, and in leaving Ndiago. But, she did perk up towards the end of the party (after all the good food, seeing some of the people she does already know in the new village, etc). But, I had to promise that I would come and visit her (and I intend to do so). She's been one of my best friend's in the village- the place where I go to hang out when I have nothing to do. So, it's sad to see her go. But, she's not that far away, and I do plan to see her at least every so often in her new home.

It's Raining, It's Pouring... (6/17/08)

2008-06-17T13:49:00.002-06:00

Though maybe I shouldn't speak to soon and jinx it, the rains have come to Ndiago, Senegal! It is only mid-June, but it has already rained several times in my village. This is very fortunate news for the village, as many people are running out of foods stuffs due to the very poor rainy season last year.

The fields are already starting to turn green (albeit only from various grasses and weeds, not yet from crops). But, it's a good sign. People are heading to their fields and people are furiously trying to obtain and sort their seeds (the seeds have to be sorted by hand to pick out all the deformed, broken, or half worm-eaten seeds). Very time consuming. But, very typical for Senegal (if you remember reading my entry last year about harvesting the beans, you won't be surprised either).

What the rains also mean is that I need to get working on my neem lotion project (neem is a local type of tree. When you add it's leaves to body lotion, it works as a mosquito repellent). It's cheap and easy to make. But when I presented the lotion to people in my village last year, no one wanted to take the initiative and make the lotion themselves. But, this year, I've proposed to make enough lotion for the entire village- if they can all pay the necessary 50cfa (approx $.10) per head (children and adults). Though everyone is all for the idea, it is the money collection part that is most difficult. So far, I have about 25% of the money. I'm going to try to hold a money collection 'coffee hour'-ish type thing when I get back to the village (perhaps coffee hour isn't a good way to describe it, but it is a common event in Senegal when people need to raise money for a wedding, baptism, etc. They make coffee for all the women in the village and they bring in their contributions). So, I'm hoping to raise more of the money then. Hopefully, I can make it before all the mosquitos start coming and bringing in malaria. Inshallah!

Work, Work, Work (5/12/08)

2008-05-13T11:17:00.001-06:00

I think I’ve given various updates on some of the things I’ve been doing, but I don’t think I’ve talked in any great detail about some of the projects I’m currently involved in. It’s interesting to talk about, since, only just a few months ago, I had been feeling like I didn’t really have a whole lot going on work wise. I’d had the baby weighings that I’ve been doing more or less since I got here, but that was about it (not technically, actually, but I didn’t have much else going on on a day to day basis). I had been working with the school doing some health lessons, but lately the school has had so much time off due to teacher’s strikes and holidays that it is not an exaggeration to say that, in any given week, students actually have class maybe 2 days. It’s sort of ridiculous. And, with the very limited amount of time left for class, I have a hard time justifying to myself taking away from that further. Health is important, but so is reading and math. I just couldn’t do it. So, as for ongoing projects, I was pretty short on things to do. And, though I love hanging out with my family and neighbors, I wasn’t feeling like I was getting much done work wise.

But, a little over a month ago, that started to change. I’d been trying for the better part of 6 months to get a health radio show going at the local radio station in Guinguineo. It was a long process involving needing to talk to several different groups of people. But, finally, in the end, I was granted a 45-minute time slot every Wednesday night. Originally, I had been hoping for a bi-weekly spot. I am (or was until just this weekend when a few new volunteers joined our region) the only health volunteer in the Kaolack region, so I more or less only had myself to rely on. So coming up with a script for a weekly show was kind of a daunting task. And, for the past month, that has taken up a great deal of my time. Everyday, someone will come by my house and ask what I’m doing just sitting in my chair writing. Why don’t I go out and be social, they wonder. Spending time by yourself isn’t really something people do here, so, even though I’m trying to get work done, they think of it as kind of odd that I sit around writing all day.

It’s a lot of work, but the radio show is a great way to reach people. The guy at the radio station says they have approx. 25,000 listeners. So, rather than just being able to reach a few people through health talks in my village, I can reach 25,000 people every week. So that’s pretty cool. And to make it interesting for people to listen to, I write a skit (they call it theater in Wolof) that makes up the bulk of the show. In each skit, one or more people are dealing with a specific health problem or issue and it shows how they got sick, what they need to do afterwards, etc. Then, at the end, we have a ‘question and answer’ section where myself and the volunteers who are helping me put on the show (I have different ‘guests’ every week, as I regularly need multiple characters for the skits) talk about the particular health problem or issue, what people should do about it, address any local practices that might interfere with the proper resolution of an illness, etc. So far, the show has been very well received.

Then, in addition, I’ve also been working on a project concerning the Peace Corps health program in general. Up until now, there hasn’t been any set guide to give to new volunteers addressing possible projects, lesson topics, etc. Each volunteer was required to reinvent the wheel as far as coming up with projects, lesson plans, etc. But, recently, a few of us have been working on putting together a guide to the top ten illnesses/health issues in Senegal. And, under each section, we would put possible lesson plans, radio shows, and any necessary visual aids. This guide would then be given out to all new volunteers so that they would have an easy way to get educational activities started in the village. It’s daunting for a new volunteer with limited language skills to come up with entire lesson plans on their own. So a guide like this would be very helpful in allowing new volunteers to start projects right away. So that will be taking up a fair amount of my time as well.

I’ve also planted a tree pepineer (a tree nursery of sorts) for my village. I’ve planted several types of trees (mangos, cashews, a tree called nebadie that has leaves used to make a very nutritious sauce, and a tree called dem, which has a small fruit that lots of people like to eat). In all, I planted 150 trees. My hope (assuming all of trees actually come up and don’t get eaten by goats) is to give each compound in my village one of each of these trees. Not only would this help to fight desertification, which is a big problem in my area, but each of the trees also offers some nutritional value, which would help a lot towards improving people’s health. So far, I have a couple mango trees coming up, all of the nebadie trees up, and several cashew trees that are just about breaking the soil. So, so far so good. Now, I just need to keep animals from eating them.

In addition, I’m trying (and I emphasize here that I’m trying to do this and that it’s not necessarily going to happen, but I’d like it to) to start a village-wide project to lower the rate of malaria in my village. Malaria is one of the number one killers in Senegal- especially amongst young children and older people. Last year, there were over 60 cases of malaria treated in my village alone (out of a total of 300 people). People had to spend nearly 100,000cfa (approx. $230) curing all of these people. 100,000cfa is more money than probably any villager has every seen in one place in their entire lives. So, my hope is to make a concerted, village-wide effort to reduce this rate. The first part of reducing malaria is for people to use mosquito nets every night. There has recently been a big distribution effort of mosquito nets in my village, so we’re pretty well covered on that front. Then, since mosquitoes come out only at night, but that people often don’t go to bed (under their mosquito nets) until late- sometimes 12am or 1am when it gets really hot, that time between dusk (around 7-8pm) and when they go to bed, is a prime time for mosquito bites. So, I want to promote the use of a natural, easy to make, and cheap form of mosquito repellent. I did a sample batch last year and distributed some to each of the compounds to show them what it was and talk about how easy it was. The people used it, but no one took the next step and asked me to help them make a batch on their own. I’m hoping I can get a village-wide commitment to make this lotion on a massive scale to cover all of the people in the village (this is the part of my proposed project that will be the hardest part-getting people to put up their money in the beginning to PREVENT malaria, rather than waiting for “God’s will” and just pay for the curing of it). I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince people to do this, but if I can, I think it would be great for the village. I would then combine it with several sets of health talks on malaria. Then, if the village is able to do all of this, and they are able to reduce the malaria rate to less than half of last year’s rate, I would throw a party at the end of the rainy season. I’d buy a sheep, and we’d have a big feast. We’ll see if I can get people to buy into that plan. Inshallah.

I’ve also had several other work related things going on- I’ve gone to other volunteer’s villages to do some health talks, as a region, we’ve come together to try to put together an action plan for what we want to focus on in the next few years, and I’ve been helping to get this new group of volunteers settled in. This is in addition to the responsibilities I’d already had as treasurer in our regional house (I’m responsible for collecting everyone’s dues, paying for house supplies, our maid, any house improvements, etc). So, I’ve been pretty busy lately, which is nice, since I’d been feeling like I wasn’t getting much done not too long ago. It’s a welcome shift.

Update on the Baby (5/12/08)

2008-05-13T11:14:00.000-06:00

Just thought I’d add a quick entry to let you know how the little baby is doing. One of my last entries was about M’Bissin and her newborn twins (one of which died the first night). Well, I am happy to say that both mother and baby are doing well. The little boy is still very little. He’s growing, but is still very little. I weighed him at my last baby weighing and he’d gaining about half a pound in the couple weeks between his birth and the weighing. I look forward to being able to weigh him again next month to find out his progress.

Giving Birth in Senegal (4/17/08)

2008-04-17T09:28:00.003-06:00

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this in any of my prior entries, but my good friend in the village was pregnant. She is the only adult woman in the compound, so she was solely responsible for doing all of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc for the entire compound. Fortunately, there are only 5 people in the compound (including 2 small children). But, still, it was a lot of work for her. Then, a couple months ago, it became very apparent that she was pregnant. Then, about a month ago, she told me she was pregnant with twins.

People here don't generally talk about being pregnant (I think it is largely a "don't count your eggs before they hatch" type of reasoning, as so many pregnancies/babies die here), so it was a pretty big deal that she was talking to me about the fact that she was pregnant with twins. Already when I'd realized she was pregnant, I'd made a point to help her out when I could. A few times, I helped her sweep her compound or do other chores, and, as often as I could, I would take the two little girls and take care of them for a good part of the day.

I wasn't sure when she was due. I'd tried asking her, but hadn't gotten a clear answer (I don't think she had a good idea either). And, though I remember the occassion when her husband had come to visit her in the village (he lives and works in Dakar), I couldn't remember when exactly that had been. Well, a week ago, she gave birth. I had been planning on visiting another volunteer's village, but had rescheduled and come home early to find out that M'Bissin had given birth that afternoon.

When I say she gave birth, I think most people think hospitals, doctors, etc. Not for M'Bissin. As she tells the story, her stomach had been hurting a bit that morning, but that was about it. She'd gone to visit another compound, hung out for a while. When she finally came back home to start cooking lunch, she told her mom her stomach was hurting. Her mom told her they should go to the hospital. Fine, but she needed to go to the bathroom first. Well, with the risk of making this too graphic, she squated down, and out came the first of the babies- a little boy. She wasn't even able to catch him. He still has a sore on his back from where he fell onto the rocks in the bathroom (this was an outdoor bathroom). Well, as she has probably now spent longer than usual in the bathroom, her mom starts calling her telling her they should go to the hospital now. Her response was that she couldn't go now, and to bring her a bucket. She put the new baby in the bucket (a large bucket- to keep him off the ground). They called the midwife from the other side of the village, but by the time she got there, M'Bissin had already given birth to the second baby as well- a little girl. They cleaned her and the babies up and brought them to the hospital, where they spent the night (and where I found them once I got home later that day).

The babies were really small. The boy was about 2kg (about 4.4lbs), and the girl was a little over 1kg (about 2.2lbs). For those of you with no reference point on how much babies weigh, a normal newborn weighs between 6-8lbs. So, they were really small. But all lived through the birth- mom and babies (birthing is hard enough in Senegal given the sanitary/health care standards, so the birthing of twins is exceptionally difficult). I was able to hold them when I got there later that evening. And already, M'Bissin was calling the little girl my "turando", my namesake. I'd had a feeling that if she had a girl, she may want to name it after me (all babies here are named after someone). And indeed she did.

I left after visiting for just a little while so I could go back home to take a shower and change my clothes. But, I went back later after dinner. The little girl wasn't looking so good. But I left again before too long so that M'Bissin could have a chance to get some rest.

Well, when I went back the next morning, the little girl had died. She had "gone back to God" as M'Bissin said. My turando had gone back to God. It was weird. In the States, such an event would be devastating. Crying and depression would ensue. But, though I could tell M'Bissin was upset about it, there were no tears, and very few words to mark the passing of the little girl. Babies die every day in Senegal. Every woman in my compound has lost at least one child. My host mom has lost 4, including a set of twins.

Well, to make things more complicated, the little boy was having trouble breastfeeding, and was clearly becoming dehydrated (a clear sign of dehydration in infants is a sunken soft-spot on the top of the head- his was quite sunken). I showed this to M'Bissin and told her she needed to keep trying as often as she could to breastfeed, eventually, it would work. And, fortunately, it did. And he is now breastfeeding regularly. He is now just over a week old. I'm not sure if he's gained any weight yet, I certainly hope he has, but I look forward to being able to weigh him at the beginning of next month when I weigh the kids of my village again. He certainly won't have an easy time of it- most likely, if he'd been born in the States, he'd be in the ICU at this point. But, he was born in Senegal. They don't have things like neo-natal ICU's here. So, he'll have to do it the hard way. And I'll do what I can along the way to make it easier if I can.

Benign Girl (4/7/08)

2008-04-07T10:34:00.002-06:00

Different as Senegal is from the US, there is one thing that is strikingly similar. All of our products are made in China. This might actually be more true of Senegal because it is poorer, and China is, of course, the haven of cheap manufacturing. But, there is one significant difference between the Chinese products made for export to America and the products made for export to Senegal aren't, shall we say, quality checked as well.

Manufacturers who export to America would be certain to make sure they proof-read the English on their products before sending them over. You would never find a "Product Manllel" included with your DVD player in America. Not so true here. And sometimes, this is on purpose. In order to make their product look cooler, they often try to imitate American or other Western brands (such as Sony, Levis, etc). Thus, I had to laugh one day when I saw a tag from a pair of Lives jeans laying in the dirt. They were advertised as "Great, wonderful, original jeans". Clearly, a knock-off of Levis jeans.

Manufactures also try to use English to make their products look cooler. English represents something that is rich, cool, and of a higher class because it is associated with the Western world and America. But, because the products are cheap (cheaper even than products sent to America), the proof reading and quality control aren't the same. And the buyers of these products, as a general rule, can't tell the difference since they don't speak English and many can't read in the first place. So, it is not at all uncommon to see things like "Product Manllel" (Product Manual) or "Happy Gril" (Happy Girl) printed all over things here. There are also examples of mis-translated things such as "Benign Girl" getting printed on toy cell phones for little kids. My little neighbor was brough a toy cell phone as a gift. When you flip it open, the "screen" is a picture of a knock-off barbie doll and it says "Benign Girl" at the top. I think they were trying for something more like Good Girl, a girl who doesn't do anything bad, is not malignant, so to speak, is benign. That's my best guess, anyways. I get a small laugh to myself when I see these things. But I feel bad about saying anything to their owners because I know the products are new, were fairly expensive, and therefore valued by the owner and I don't want to cheapen that. But I do get a chuckle every now and again.

As for the knock-offs, some of them are pretty good. Several months ago, the DVD player at the regional house broke. So, we went out on a mission to get a new one. We could've gone to some random street vender and gotten some really cheap one. But, we wanted to get one that would last longer than our last. And, we wanted to have even a hope of having some redress if it didn't work. So, we went to a fancy electronics store in Kaolack and bought a Sony DVD player. By all accounts, it seemed very legitimate. Advertised all it's capabilities, including MPEG-4 capability (a type of digital video). Great. But, then it broke after only a couple weeks. So, we brought it back. The owner was very helpful and even gave us an upgraded model for free in exchange for the old one. But, here's when things started getting sketchy. First, we noticed the manual, as I've already mentioned was actually a "Product Manllel". Not a huge mistake, but it was a warning flag. Then, we noticed that the new, improved model advertised, in big letters on the outside of the box, MPEG-8. Now, I've been out of the country for a while, so I'm not too current on new technologies, but I'm pretty sure MPEG-8 doesn't exist. Then, to make it worse, the same styled logo as the MPEG-8 logo was printed directly on the DVD player, except that this logo said MPEG-6. Hmm... that's definitely a red flag. But, the guy was very nice about it, so we took it, hoping for the best. But this one did the same thing within a week. So, we brought it back and asked for our money back (Senegal doesn't have the same standard return policies as stores in America, so we were pretty lucky we could get our money back). Clearly, the so called SONY DVD player was a fake. But, at least on the lower model, they did a very good job of hiding it.

Though there are these differences between American and Senegalese products from China, there is one similarity. Products made in China fall apart. For one of the holidays, someone brought one of the little neighbor girls a new pair of shoes- the kind that make noise when the kid walks. Well, she put the shoes on in the morning and wore them all day. But, by the end of the day, they no longer made noise. I made a comment about it to the girl's uncle, and, much to my surprise, his response was, "Yeah, it was made it China. Everything made in China breaks right away." I thought it was pretty funny. I didn't realize China had this reputation everywhere. :)

Town Cleanup

2008-03-17T12:21:00.003-06:00

Recently, my village undertook a village cleanup project. Over the course of several Sundays, all the people in the village will come together to clean up the village. They sweep all the streets, and the main parts of town, burning all of the trash, debris, and animal dung (animals are very important here, there is much of this). Though I would love to say it is a project I helped initiate, it is not. Apparently, my village has been doing this once a year for the past few years. More power to them. Enjoy the brief video!

Hut Tour

2008-03-17T11:43:00.003-06:00

I had some requests for more videos- particularly a video of the inside of my hut. So, here it is. It's quick. But, I hope you enjoy. Another little view into my life here in Senegal.

Raising a Dog in Senegal (3/6/08)

2008-03-06T08:53:00.000-06:00

First off, who raises a dog in Senegal? No one. That is the answer. With the exception of a few herders, no one raises dogs in Senegal (or cats for that matter). Dogs and cats are “wild” animals, left to fend for themselves and get chased out of compounds. So, the fact that I’ve decided to raise a dog causes quite a stir. People laugh and call me crazy. But, at the same time, I’ve also received some surprisingly supportive responses to raising a dog (often from the same people who just laughed and called me crazy).

I’ve never had a dog before. Growing up, we always had cats. Most of what I know about raising a dog comes from when I would dog sit in Chicago for my friends Jenna and Ryan. There are some challenges to raising a dog here that are the same as in the States. But there are some that are entirely unique to Senegal and our style of life here.

In the beginning, I didn’t want to raise a dog that was too dependent on me. I leave a lot (at least a few times a month to go to Kaolack or Dakar), and I don’t want to make my family responsible for taking care of her while I’m gone. So, in the beginning, I didn’t feed her very much- maybe once a day. She had to go scrounge for food on her own the rest of the time (though no one takes care of them, there are plenty of dogs in the area that are able to find plenty of scraps). But, then my family started bugging me about what she was eating, was she hungry, etc. And when we’d finish a meal, if there was anything left over, they would tell me to go give her the left overs. It’s even gotten to the point now that they’ll tell me to go get the little bowl I use for her before we’ve even started eating. I’ve even been scolded for forgetting to bring the bowl after the meal one day.

In the States, I would probably be wearing jeans, which are pretty durable. But here, I almost always wear a pagne (wrap around skirt made from a fairly thin material). So, when the dog tries to bite at my ankles (she’s very fond of this particular activity), rather than have to deal with a rough, durable material like jeans, only has to contend with my pagne. I now only have one pagne left that hasn’t either been torn or gotten holes in it because of the dog.

Another thing about Senegalese culture is that everything happens outside and on the ground. We sit on the ground, we eat on the ground, we put all of our stuff on the ground, etc. And the only reason to stay inside your hut for any extended time is if you’re sick or, sometimes, if you’re receiving visitors. So, we’re always outside, on the ground. Well, where is the puppy? Also, outside and on the ground. And, as a puppy, she always wants to play (ie bite things). There’s no keeping her out of things. In the States, you could lock the dog outside. Or, you could put things up on tables or counters. But (with the exception of some of my furniture), there is nothing here that is higher than 2 feet off the ground. She can get into anything.

The last thing that makes things more complicated is the chickens. In the States, it’s not uncommon for dogs to chase after squirrels or birds- animals that are readily available in the dog’s environment. Often, these animals get away. But, on the off chance that they did indeed catch one, no one would likely care. The bird or squirrel would not be missed by anyone. But here, the most readily available animal to chase is chickens. There are always chickens running around everywhere. Everyone raises chickens. But that’s the problem. They belong to someone. If the dog catches one, someone will care. She’s still pretty little, and so, to my knowledge, has not yet actually caught a chicken. But, she will be growing up here before too long. I’m afraid she’ll become more adept at her chicken chasing abilities. I’m trying to break her of this habit, but it’s hard when she has free range to wander into other people compounds and chase their chickens as well. This might actually be the biggest challenge to me raising a dog here in Senegal. If she does start catching chickens, I may be forced to get rid of her.

Raising a dog here is challenging- especially since I’ve never done it before. But it can be fun too. Its fun to see how differently people treat my dog compared with how they treat other dogs. And its fun to see when people stop being so wary of her and can actually pet her or play with her. Little by little, people are coming to accept my dog (as long as she doesn’t chase their chickens!)

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (2/22/08)

2008-02-22T12:55:00.000-06:00

There are many things you could say about Senegal in regards to its trash disposal/trash management schemes. And, really, the main one would be that there is none. On the outskirts of every village, you will see piles of trash. And every street is littered with old plastic bags and bits of trash. But, even with this as a backdrop, there is still room for me to be continually impressed with how well people deal with what some people consider “trash”.

Recently, pretty much every volunteer in Senegal (around 150 or so) plus tons of volunteers from across West Africa (Mali, Mauritania, Benin, Togo, etc), converged on Dakar for the annual WAIST (West African Invitational Softball Tournament) event. It was a weekend full of softball, hot dogs, and tons of other American “delicacies” we don’t normally get. Well, since we were all there for the same event, when it was over, we all headed home at the same time. So, the regional house was really full with people stopping over on their way home.

Well, we have 39 volunteers in our region, but only 10 beds. We have a few extra mattresses, but, nonetheless, the available sleeping space in the house was on the top of our minds. So, when we woke up, a number of us started talking about buying new mattresses and moving an old set of bunk beds in the garage into one of the bedrooms so they could be used. This spurred on an amazing cleaning effort involving the whole house. We de-bedbugged all the mattresses and cushions (bedbugs are an unfortunate part of our lives here and you have to leave them out in the sun every so often to kill them all), cleaned out the garage (a hefty effort- some things in there had been there since before even the most veteran of us had come into country), and completely reorganized much of the house.

Well, as is often the case when you embark on a big cleaning project, you come up with a lot of trash. There were dozens of cardboard boxes from care packages, various broken items found anywhere and everywhere, old mangled books, etc. And all of it went out front of our house in a half oil drum we use to store our trash until it gets picked up (our house is one of few who pay for trash pickup- most people throw it in the street, in the piles on the outskirts of town, or in the open sewers). When we put it all out there, very little of it fit in the oil drum. Most of it went on the ground next to it.

Well, the clean up was largely done in the morning. And, by the time we went out later to get lunch, the vast majority of items had been removed from the trash. All of the boxes were gone. Our guard took a bag he found as well as some broken English books he thought his son could read. I had been worried the amount of trash would be overwhelming. The trash barrel isn’t that big. But, by early afternoon, everything left over fit very nicely in the half oil barrel.

Though there are no (or few) formal trash services here, and there is absolutely no recycling, the rate of re-use is amazing. I have always found a use for my care package boxes, old bottles get re-used (my mom was pretty appalled when I bought some locally made juice that had been put in an old brake fluid bottle), little containers can either be used by adults to store small items or given to kids to use as toys, the tube inside toilet paper can make a pretty cool telescope or megaphone, etc.

Things get constantly reused- and often many times over. So, really, with the exception of when I get care packages with lots of individual packages of candy, trail mix, etc, I have very little trash- perhaps a small plastic bag every 3 weeks or so. If I think it can get reused, I give it away. If it’s decomposable, I throw it down my toilet. And what little is left I bring with me to Kaolack where I know it will be picked up and taken away by at least a fairly responsible trash collector.

Though there is generally very little positive to be said for waste management in Senegal, this is one bright point. I wish we could be even half as inventive in America with the items we’re willing to reuse.

A New Addition (2/14/08)

2008-02-14T12:20:00.003-06:00

Just a quick entry this time to let you know I've had a new addition to my family in Ndiago. I have (however unintentionally) added a dog to our compound.

I never wanted to adopt a pet while I was here in Senegal. People here don't generally treat animals very well (the animal lovers amongst you would likely be outraged, but the Senegalese don't view animals with the same affection we do in the states). And I didn't want to have to deal with my pet getting mistreated. Also, though 2 years is a long time, the lifespan of a pet would be much longer, and what would I do with it when I was done? So, I'd decided I didn't want one.

But, then, one day, I found a little puppy seeking shelter in my bathroom. I had seen him the day before- my host sister had chased him off with a stick when he tried to come into our compound. But, I didn't think much of it. Then, the next day, there he was. He had snuck his way in through a gap in the thatched fence forming the walls of my bathroom. He was super small. I don't know much about dogs- we always had cats when I was a kid, but still I knew he was little. Apparently had been separated from it's mom somehow and was now just wandering around.

I debated. I really didn't want a puppy. Too much to take care of on top of doing my job, what would I do when I leave, etc. But, I couldn't very well leave him there to die in my bathroom, now could I (as I found out, he wasn't weaned yet and wouldn't eat anything except liquids)? So, I gave him some water to drink, and figured, if he stuck around, maybe I'd go get him some milk the next day at the market.

Well, though he left for a while, he came back. So, I bought some powdered milk to give him. He loved it, of course. But then, the next day, I didn't see him at all. For nearly two days, I didn't see him. I figured he'd run off. But then, while I was hanging out at my neighbor's house, there he came. And, so, he'd come back. He was still pretty skittish, but getting better.

Well, just as all of this was happening, I was getting ready to go to Dakar to pick up my parents. I wasn't going to be at site for the better part of two weeks (minus the few days I planned to spend there with my parents). I couldn't very well ask my family to take care of him. They don't like dogs, and, though they were actually surprisingly ok with him being around, it would be a lot to ask of them. Well, because I'm gone a fair amount as it is, I didn't want a dog that was super dependent anyway. He would have to fend for himself while I was gone. I left him a big bowl of water and figured that, if he was still around when I came back, I'd keep him. If not, best of luck to him.

Well, he was still around when I got back. And so there he is. He's definitely a puppy- loves to run around and play (ie bite things). This isn't such a big hit with the family, but they are pretty good about it. They laugh at me a bit for it. Probably think I'm pretty weird. But, they know from tv that Westerners do this, so they just accept it as another one of my eccentricities. I just hope he doesn't do anything destructive that would make my family want to get rid of him. We'll see.

A Visit from the States (2/6/08)

2008-02-07T04:53:00.000-06:00

I’ve recently had a visit from the states. My parents both decided to come visit me at the same time, for two weeks. Though my dad has traveled a bit, neither of them really had any experience traveling in third world countries. And I was worried about that. You see, unless you’re willing to fork out a fortune to have your own personal car and driver and stay at the really nice resorts (and, yes, Senegal does have some of these), you have to rough it a bit. And, by this I mean, travel via public transportation (hopefully you’ve read my entries on that), stay in hotels that may or may not have all the modern conveniences you’re used to, etc. So, I was curious how this was all going to pan out. But, over the phone, my parents seemed pretty gung-ho, and were interested in visiting some places that even I haven’t been to.

So, I planned out our itinerary, called and made reservations at some of the places along the way, and hoped for the best. Well, Senegal was definitely different. Not like anything they had experienced before. All of the sights, smells, pushy street venders, and chaotic garages (where you go to catch the public transportation) were a bit overwhelming. It was good we only spent a couple days in Dakar and then headed to the less densely populated and less touristy coastal towns.

We had a few hiccups along the way. In one of the towns we went to, I had the contact info for a couple places that I’d been told were pretty good, but I couldn’t get a hold of one of them, and when I tried the other, I talked to someone, and, though the details where sketchy to me over the phone (it was noisy, and the conversation was all in French), the guy said that the campement (small place for lodging) was closed but that he new of a house where we could rent a room. It sounded fine. I’ve rented beach town houses with other volunteers before and they were all pretty nice, so I didn’t figure there would be a problem, so I agreed. But, when we got to the house, we found out that it had neither running water nor electricity. And the beds weren’t very good. But, there was a well in the compound for drawing water to flush the toilet, bathe, etc, and they brought us candles at night to see by. And the people were very nice. It certainly could have been worse, but there was a lot more roughing it than I had planned on.

But, my parents were troopers. Even though we had some complications, and even though the public transport turned out to be worse than I had planned, they put up with it. And they made it through. As my mom said, she survived Senegal. Though it may have been challenging, they both said they were very happy they came to experience even just a little bit of what my life here is like. I was glad they came too.

Gender Roles (1/20/08)

2008-02-07T04:51:00.000-06:00

I think I may have at least briefly mentioned gender roles here in Senegal in some of my other entries, but I believe it deserves an entry all its own. Gender roles are very set here. Women are expected to do all the housework- cooking, cleaning, laundry (by hand of course), taking care of the kids, etc. And men hopefully have jobs (though with astronomical unemployment- especially in the villages- they often don’t have jobs) with which to support the family. The men are also in charge of maintaining the compound (building new huts, keeping the fences in tact, etc). But, considering that most village men don’t have actual jobs (they probably make money in piecemeal fashion, doing odd jobs every now and again), and because the planting and harvesting season is only about 4-5 months out of the year, the men often have little to do for much of the year, while the women, taking care of the household, have lots of work every day.

These roles are very set in stone. It is very rare to see a man washing clothes, sweeping up, or cooking a meal. And it’s unheard of to meet a girl over the age of 12 who can’t do all of those things. It really throws people for a loop when they ask me if I can cook ceeb u jenn or some other local dish, and I say no. They are flabbergasted. “Why don’t you learn,” they demand, “Just sit down and watch Maguette [one of women in my compound]. She’ll teach you.” I just smile and say I haven’t yet learned. And, though I want to be able to come back to America and be able to cook some of the great dishes I’ve had here, I’m not yet ready to let myself learn.

You see, as an outsider, a Toubab, so to speak, and as a guest, I enjoy an ambiguous identity somewhere between the men and the women. I am not expected to do the family’s laundry, I’m not expected to help cook the daily meals, or sweep up the compound, or any of the other things the other women are expected to do. And I’m often included or invited to participate in things only the men would otherwise do. Normally, my family eats all together, but for special events when we have lots of guests, the men and the women eat separately. But, I’m often invited to eat with the men, where there is usually a little bit better food (better cuts of meat or just more meat, more vegetables, etc).

My role is actually so ambiguous that I’ve encountered situations in which I’ve forced a role reversal for some of the men in the village. For example, when someone brings a bottle of soda as a gift or buys it for a special occasion, it is always the women who will hand it out to everyone. Though its possible a man might pour out the glasses, it is always either a child or one of the women who then bring it to each person. But, this one time, that wasn’t an option. My host dad was pouring out the soda and handing it off to one of the kids to hand out. But then he sent that kid on an errand. And there weren’t any women around. Then one of the glasses came back (in each family, there are a limited number of glasses and so each person waits their turn to have a drink- men and the elderly first, then the women, then the kids), and I was the only one left to drink. He poured the glass and looked around for someone to bring it to me (I was only a few feet away, but it is still the custom, as he would have had to get up to bring it to me). But there was no one. I could see in his eyes he was trying to decide what to do. If I were a man, it wouldn’t have been as big of a deal. A man serving a male guest in his home when there isn’t anyone else around wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But a man serving a woman? That’s not normal. But at the same time, our relationship was such that he didn’t want to be rude and not give it to me. I could see the debate going on in his head. He did the only thing he could do to avoid being rude (a principle that is more important apparently than gender roles in this case), and got up and brought me the glass. It was as awkward as you could imagine the handing off of a simple glass of soda could be. But I was proud of him for doing it and breaking that gender role (and I was happy to have played my part in breaking- even temporarily- those strict roles). It was an interesting encounter.

That is the type of ambiguity that I enjoy. And I don’t really want to jeopardize that status. I don’t want the villagers to think of me as just another village woman, cooking and cleaning all day. That is not my role here as a Peace Corps volunteer. My job is health work. Though I would like to be able to help out my female family members when I’m able, I’m afraid that if I do that too much, it will become expected. And I don’t want to be expected to cook the daily meals, or do my host brother’s laundry. And so, for the most part, I try to avoid those situations. And that is why I have yet to let myself learn how too cook Senegalese dishes. I tell them I can cook American food just fine, but that I haven’t yet learned to cook Senegalese food. I promise them I will do so before I leave. This placates them for the time being, and keeps me free to continue enjoying this role that I currently enjoy.

Going Home (01/14/08)

2008-01-21T04:50:00.000-06:00

There has been a woman staying in my compound named Baccu. She’s married, but unlike most married, Senegalese women, she was not living in her husband’s compound. When Senegalese people get married, the woman, almost invariably, goes to live with her husband’s family (and these families are large and extended, it’s not just immediate family like we have in the States- there will likely be brothers, sisters, cousins, etc in the same compound). But Baccu didn’t live with her husband’s family- she was staying with her mom (who also shares our compound).

I didn’t know why this was until several months ago when I went around taking a census of sorts of the village (I have a hard time remembering names, so I went compound to compound writing down everyone’s name in the village- there are just over 300 people). Well, when I got to one of the compounds, one of the women there explained the story to me. Her brother is Baccu’s husband. Baccu’s husband, though from our village, doesn’t actually live here most of the time. He is off working elsewhere (though his wife would still live with his family in the village). The reason she didn’t was, as this woman explained it, Baccu was mad at the family, and so had left and went back to her own family. She hadn’t divorced him (it is possible to divorce someone by just going back to one’s own family). But, she hadn’t actually divorced him. She just left for a while and had gone home to her mother’s compound (which, as it happens, is only about 3 compounds away- less than a 2 minutes walk) in order to show her anger.

That was the story I got from the family Baccu should be living with (her husband’s family). At the end of the story, they asserted to me that I should tell Baccu to come back home, to stop being mad. The whole story arose because they told me to write down Baccu’s name as living in their compound, and I said I’d already written her name down as living in mine.

The story I got later from my host mom was slightly more detailed. Apparently, some time shortly before I arrived at site, Baccu had had a child. But, the child got very sick. And neither her husband nor his family would pay for the medications for the child or for her. The child died. And thus, to show her anger at her husband and his family, she left.

Well, just this past week, she has gone home. I had scheduled to hold a baby weighing in Ndiago one afternoon, and when I got home that evening, I was told Baccu had decided to go home. So, all the women of my compound got together, carried all of Baccu’s worldly possessions with us (not many, I should point out), and carried them down the street to the other compound. She was welcomed back with open arms. There was dancing and singing, and many people repeated that it was good this fighting was over with. Peace is better than fighting.

Now, to be honest, I am somewhat conflicted about this story. I am glad she was finally able to go home. But, why didn’t the family pay the medical expenses? Did they just not have the money? Did they refuse for other reasons? I know the other family at least fairly well, and they are all nice people. I don’t want to think poorly of them. But, why didn’t they take care of their own? And why did she choose now to go back? Had enough time passed to make it ok? Unfortunately, though I can ask these questions, it is very unlikely I would be able to get a clear answer. People here aren’t used to asking and answering the why questions, and I usually get vague answers as a result. This is especially true in the current situation as it had to do with conflict, and Senegalese culture is all about avoiding conflict and maintaining relationships above all else (above complete honesty, above individual needs or concerns, etc). It’s a very interesting (and at times frustrating) culture in which to work. I tell this story to try to show some of these complexities.

A Concert in Senegal (1/12/08)

2008-01-21T04:47:00.000-06:00

I was invited to a soiree in Guinguineo by my counterpart, Sidy. He was one of the main organizers of the event, and thought I might be interested. Now, a soiree in Senegal is basically some sort of musical event with dancing. I’ve seen it take on several forms, everything from a junior high dance type of event, to a free for all dance party held on someone’s roof. So, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. But, Sidy did say that there was going to be a live performer named Alioune Mbaye Nder coming. Sounded like a pretty good deal, so, sure, why not, I thought, and went ahead and invited my closest neighbor (and Guinguineo volunteer), Margaret.

e said the soiree officially went from 10pm-3am, but with the knowledge that the actual concert part wouldn’t start until closer to midnight. That’s fine. Not a problem. Not that I thought I would stay for the whole thing. I figured we’d go, check it out, and probably be home by 1, maybe 2 if we were having a good time. Not really knowing when we should show up (very few things in Senegal start at the designated time), we followed Margaret’s host mom’s advice and went to the theater where it was being held around 10 in order to get good seats. There were literally 6 other people there when we arrived. They were playing pre-recorded music over the sound system.

Of course, it is the Americans who are the only ones to think to arrive on time for any event in Senegal. But, oh, well. We hung out for a while. And, around 11, Sidy showed up, laughed at us for coming so early, and told us we were free to go back home for a while and come back- maybe around 12:30. We laughed- at both ourselves, and the situation. But, we went back to her house, took a nap for an hour or so, and came back.

The theater was starting to fill up a bit now (though it would still be a while before it actually filled up), and there were a few people up on the stage looking like they were trying to get things set up and ready to go. Nice, I thought, maybe we’ll actually get to see some of this show soon.
I should note here that, currently, I tend to be in bed by around 10pm. It’s the cold season. So, everyone goes to bed early. It’s cold, there’s no electricity, so what else is there to do but go to bed early? So, for me, an event that didn’t even start until 10pm was pushing it. An event that didn’t really start until after midnight was really pushing it. I wasn’t sure I’d make it to even see the concert. But, there I was at 12:30, ready for the show to begin.

Around 1am, several band members got up on stage and started to play. Good, maybe we can see some of the show and still be back home by 2 or a little after. But, no, silly American, the show wasn’t really ready yet. This is Senegal. Nothing starts when you think it will. The band played one song (during which Margaret and I had a hard time trying to figure out which of the band members was Alioune Mbaye Nder), and then sat down. Huh. Well, back to the pre-recorded music for a while.

Around 2am, we found out why we weren’t able to pick out who Alioune Mbaye Nder was. He wasn’t any of them. He hadn’t showed up yet. That’s what we’d been waiting for. At 2am, he came rolling in in his super nice car and his entourage. And, finally, the show got on the road.
We stayed through the first set, stayed through the break, and into a little bit of the next set. We even got up and danced a bit (which of course, several of the Senegalese people around us thought was great- it’s always good for a laugh to see the toubabs dance). But, we started fading. By this point, it was about 4am. The show showed no signs of winding down, so we just decided to go. But, as we were trying to say goodbye to a few friends, they convinced us, “Just one more song, then the show is over and you can go home.” And so we stayed, danced a little bit more. But, no, it was just another ploy to get us to stay. So, around 4:30am, we actually left. When I talked to Sidy the next morning around 11am, he was just on his way home after finishing up the cleanup, etc. I’m glad we left when we did.

It was a decent show, and I was happy to see that the crowd got into once the singer got there (prior to that there were a lot of deadpan, bored looking stares coming out from the audience). So, all in all, I’m happy we went. But, it was surprising to see how late people can stay up and energetic when they’re so used to going to bed early. I was surprised I made it as long as I did.

Sheep, Soda, and Green Oranges (12/21/07)

2007-12-27T12:11:00.000-06:00

So, as I mentioned in my video, everyone was getting ready for the big Tabaski holiday. It’s a Muslim holiday that happens 6 weeks after the end of Ramadan. In Senegal, it is probably one of the biggest holidays of the year. Everyone (if you have the money to) goes out and buys a new outfit to wear on that day (afterwards, it will become the nice dress up outfit they use for all the other holidays and eventually it will get worn out to the point that next year, they will need to get another new outfit for Tabaski). And also, being as it’s one of the biggest parties of the year, all of the extended family who has since moved to Dakar or elsewhere in search of work, come back. So, the village was full of people- some of which I’d previously met at other holidays, and some that I’d never met before.

The tradition in Senegal on Tabaski is that every adult male (or at least every adult, married male) is supposed to buy a sheep for their family to kill and eat. Most Senegalese don’t get much meat in the village. It’s too expensive. In my family, we eat fish in our lunch once or twice a week, but that’s it. Meat (like beef, sheep, or chicken) is usually saved exclusively for holidays or big life events (marriages, baptisms, etc). So, no one I know has any kind of habit of eating lots of meat. But, for one day out of the year, there will be more meat than the family could possibly ever eat in a single day. My family had two sheep (between about 16 people). There was so much meat, everyone ate until they were way beyond full. But, the food is just so good, you can’t help it. We had to spread the sheep meat out over 3 days there was so much of it. That sounds great, but there is no refrigeration when you don’t have electricity. So, by the third day, the meat’s not doing so great. But they eat it anyhow. It can’t go to waste (I didn’t partake in the third day’s meat- I had to leave to go celebrate Christmas with some other volunteers). It’s surprising more people don’t get sick after Tabaski.

So, with Tabaski comes lots of meat. But, as I also said, Tabaski brings back a lot of out of town family as well. And, there are two Senegalese traditions regarding visitors and/or family members who leave for a while and go on trips. First, the person who left and came back is supposed to bring back gifts. This even applies to me- when I go to Kaolack or Guinguineo, I almost always bring back a little something for my family (some mangos, a watermelon, some cookies, etc). But, being this is a huge holiday these people are coming back for, and because these are the people in the family who are out getting jobs and are supposed to be the rich family members, they have to bring back nice gifts. So, they often bring back things like clothes, sometimes toys for the kids, food, etc. Currently, oranges are in season in Senegal, so they are a very popular choice for gift giving. But, Senegalese oranges aren’t nice orange-colored Florida type oranges. Senegalese oranges are green on the outside (they aren’t just not ripe, that’s just what color they are), and they also have a tendency to be kind of sour. But, with all of the people coming back from all over, there were oranges abound. And anytime you go to visit someone’s compound, if they have oranges or if they were in the process of eating one, they will undoubtedly offer you some (and it’s rude to refuse). So, in the few days right around Tabaski, I must have eaten a couple pounds of oranges. It was a bit overwhelming. I had to save a few and brought them with me when I left to celebrate Christmas.

The other common thing when there are visitors (especially important visitors like your relatives who are home from Dakar) is to offer them soda. Because soda is so expensive here (at least relatively), it is a luxury item. It’s a pretty big deal if someone goes out and buys soda for you to drink when you go to visit them (either that or they have a lot of money). Well, Tabaski is a pretty big deal. So, there was soda everywhere. My host dad personally bought 6 1.5liter bottles of soda to share with visitors who would come by the compound (usually one bottle is enough for the entire family when a few visitors stop by- it’s shared out so everyone gets a little). So, 6 bottles was quite the deal. And then, my cousin’s husband, who lives in Dakar, did the same. And they’re in the same compound. So, just right there that was a lot of soda. Plus, there were many other compounds that I went to visit who had done similarly. So, at each stop, I would get a little glass of soda. All together, I probably drank several liters of soda.

While I’m talking about soda, I should note something interesting about Senegalese culture (at least from an American perspective where Coke and Pepsi are the most popular types of soda). The most popular (largely because it’s cheaper) brand of soda in Senegal is a brand called Africa. The flavors they offer are Cola, Orange, and Pineapple. But, most Senegalese don’t like the cola flavor. In fact, they think it’s pretty gross. The most popular flavor is Orange. So, it’s a big deal to be offered Orange soda. Just an interesting point to note.

So, over the course of probably 3 days, I ate a good portion of a sheep (innards and all), ate several pounds of oranges, and drank several liters of soda. I also bought a new dress (yes, that’s right, me. I went out and bought a new dress. :) ). It was quite the event.

A Village Tour

2007-12-17T05:38:00.000-06:00

Here's a walking tour of my family compound. The file is a bit large, I apologize. But, it was the smallest file setting I had on my camera. It's only about 2 minutes long, but the file is 22mb. Sorry. But, I hope you enjoy. It's a little glimpse into my life in Senegal.

Adventure Travel (11/30/07)

2007-12-02T04:31:00.002-06:00

I had an odd experience the other day. I was out on tourney with my counterpart and a few of the local relays (local health educators). We were going around giving all kids under age 5 a dose of vitamin A and a de-worming drug. This is the same tourney I think I described in an entry shortly after I’d arrived at site. It happens every 6 months, so we were out doing it again. It was the last day of the tourney, so we were out going back to any of the children who might have been out when we came around the first time (at the market with their mom or out of town, whatever), and we were also stopping at all of the small nomadic Pulaar camps that get set up in the bush. There’s no good way to find these camps. They set them up each dry season when they come to graze their livestock on the former crop fields, so they aren’t in any set location, and each camp only houses one family. So, we would just drive along the main path (I hesitate to say road because really, it is just a dirt track in the bush) and look out in the distance to see if we can spot any of the camps. We can then ask if they know of any others near by.

Well, so we were just finishing up with one such family, located out, literally, in the middle of no where, when we spot a vehicle off in the distance. It was clearly some sort of tourist and/or NGO (non-governmental organization or development organization) vehicle. It was an SUV outfitted with a snorkel (for the engine’s air intake, which allows the car to go through high water) and had several heavy duty trunks strapped to the top. They were outfitted with a GPS system, and I’m sure they had gone out and bought all sorts of high tech gear for this trip. We waved the people down and I talked to them for a minute (though I had the problem with strict French that I mentioned in the prior entry). They were French tourists trying to get to Kaffrine (A town probably around 50km away). But, they didn’t seem to want to take the main roads. They wanted to travel through the bush and through the villages- a real adventure.

It was very odd for me. Here were these adventure travelers- wanting to go through the back country, through the bush, going on this great adventure through Africa. They had no guide, wanted to do it on their own, get a real feel for Africa. But yet, their “adventure” was my everyday life. And I have none of the fancy gear or equipment they had. My village was less than 5km from where I ran into these tourists. Their big adventure ran right through my backyard. It was very odd for me. And it got a laugh out of my counterpart and the other people I was with. To think that these tourists thought this area was exciting. For them (the people I was with), it’s just sand and a few trees and villages. It’s everyday life. It’s hardly anything exciting. And that’s what it is for me too. The sand and the villages are my life these days. And so it’s very odd when an outsider comes in and claims the everyday to be something strange and exciting. It’s like someone showing up with all sorts of heavy duty, high-tech climbing and camping gear to the local KOA campground. They are over-packed, over-dressed, and over-equipped. Anyone who really knows what a KOA is realizes that you don’t need anything fancy to stay there. A basic tent from Target will do you just fine. And the same is true of Africa. You don’t really need the snorkel vehicle or tons of heavy-duty equipment to really experience Africa. If anything, it will just set you apart even more because you are so over-equipped and over-dressed. Jeans and a t-shirt will do you just fine. And for me, that is really the best way to experience the “real” Africa- not in some supped up SUV stirring up a cloud of dust in the bush.

Forgetting English (11/29/07)

2007-12-02T04:31:00.001-06:00

The following entry is inspired by comments made by a friend of mine back home regarding people who travel abroad and, when they come back, have forgotten (or at least pretend to have forgotten) some English, replacing words with the word in the language of the country they have just been in. Now, this entry isn’t an attempt to argue with that comment, I understand the context in which it was made. But, it did make me think about my own position between languages.

I can’t really say I’ve forgotten anything in English. If someone tells me something, I will still understand it without a doubt. The problem comes in with my own usage of English. I haven’t actually forgotten anything, but because I have to train my brain so much to only think of what I want to say in Wolof or French, sometimes, when it comes time to think of what I want to say in English, the first thing that pops into my head is the word in Wolof/French. I realize this isn’t the word I want to say, but I have to take a second and correct myself and think of the English word. This is especially true with things I have to say in Wolof all the time, or things that are easier to express in Wolof or French than it is in English (for example the one Wolof word “bes” means to dump a grain out of a bucket held over your head into a bucket on the ground so that the wind can carry away the husks and let the seeds drop straight down into the bucket. There’s no word for that in English. So, its much easier for me to say, “She’s ‘bes’ing” rather than to say “She’s dumping grain out of a bucket…”). So, of course, my first thought when I want to tell someone about ‘bes’ing, even if they have no clue what the word ‘bes’ means, my first thought is to use the word. I have to slow myself down and explain what I mean if the other person doesn’t also speak Wolof.

So, even in English, it’s not uncommon for me to mix a Wolof word or two in there. And, actually, I do the same with Wolof and French. As long as my audience will understand, I mix English, French, and Wolof at will. The Wolof and French is particularly troublesome because anyone I normally talk to who speaks French, also speaks Wolof (though the reverse is not true). So, when talking to these people, I go between the two all the time. So, there have been times when I meet someone who only speaks French (tourists, etc), and I sometimes have a problem expressing myself because I keep wanting to throw Wolof words in there as well. So, though I haven’t actually forgotten anything, my mind does fail me sometimes when it comes to some things.

A Peace Corps Moment (11/28/07)

2007-12-02T04:30:00.001-06:00

So, the other day, I had one of those moments in which I realize, or maybe just felt very strongly, that I really am a Peace Corps volunteer. I was on my way to a neighboring village to do my first baby weighing there. The sun was at my back and I was watching my shadow as I walked along. I was wearing my typical apparel of a wrap around skirt (pagne), trying to balance an infant scale on my head. And my 7 year old host brother was trailing behind me carrying a scale for the older kids. And just at that moment, I realized that this is what being a Peace Corps volunteer is all about.

Finally, Work (11/21/07)

2007-12-02T04:26:00.000-06:00

So, at long last, I am finally getting some of my projects up and running. It’s a welcome change from just sitting around all day. Though I have actually had some small projects to work on, things to keep me busy, only recently have I really been able to get the main projects I’ve wanted to work on up and running.

As I think I’ve written before, one of the main things I’ve wanted to work on is nutrition. And, one of the projects I’ve been doing (just in Ndiago so far), is baby weighings. It’s an easy way not only to monitor children’s growth, but to start talking to the mothers about nutrition as well. So, since I got back from IST (nearly 3 months ago now), I’ve been wanted to expand that project beyond just my village, but to the surrounding villages as well. So, I’ve been trying to talk to my counterpart about getting in touch with the relays (local health educators) so we could set up a time to start the weighings (once started, they’re easy to continue. It’s the initial setup that is difficult). Well, that’s turned into quite the process. But, at last, I have plans to start weighings in two other villages, and a plan to get in touch with the remaining village.

One of the other things I’ve wanted to do is to teach health lessons at the school. Since school didn’t start until mid-October, I obviously couldn’t start that until more recently. And, that process seemed to go much more smoothly and quickly. All I had to do was show up at the school, talk to the principal, and set a date. He was very eager to work with me. He basically said anytime I wanted to come in, I was more than welcome. So, I taught my first lesson about proper hand washing techniques using glitter to represent germs about a week ago. I taught the lesson (about 20 minutes) to 6 classes, covering 300 students. As a whole, it went pretty well, I think. But, I did become a bit concerned when, in trying to explain my lesson to my family, my host sister, who is 11, tried to explain that you are supposed to use the glitter to wash off all of the microbes and germs. Not quite the lesson I tried to teach. I will have to go back and reinforce that learning at a later date (I should note, I don’t think the lesson was lost on all the students. Her class had been particularly difficult because I was interrupting a different lesson and there hadn’t been a teacher present to help me reinforce the lesson with the students). I’m hoping to do some sort of health lesson every other week or so.

The last major project I hope to work on is to start a radio show in Guinguineo. Guinguineo has a local radio station and other volunteers have done similar projects in their areas. It would be a great way to reach a lot of people. I haven’t actually been able to start this yet, but my counterpart has a friend at the radio station, and it seems like they are very receptive to having me come in. I’m hoping to set up a meeting to finalize all the plans soon.

If all goes as planned, between baby weighings in 4 villages, a bi-weekly school lesson, and a bi-weekly radio show, I could be quite busy. Though I can enjoy a few quiet days with nothing to do, several months of that can get old. So, I am very happy to have work to do now.

A Hard Day’s Work (10/11/07)

2007-10-29T11:45:00.000-06:00

The rains have stopped. They started about a month late, but they stopped on time. Not a good sign. But, the harvest more the less is starting to come in. The beans are first (not green beans, but beans like kidney beans or pinto beans). And, I’ve realized that, while I knew manpower driven farming was an intensive process, I didn’t really quite realize how much so until I saw it in person.

First, you must pick the beans. You have to pull each pod of beans from the plant by hand. And bean plants aren’t very tall, so you have to bend over in order to do this. A decent batch about the size of a wheelbarrow, takes a couple hours of bending over the bean fields to pick.

Then, once you carry that package wrapped in a big piece of fabric on top of your head back home, you have to sort it. By hand, you separate the bean pods (for those who’ve never seen one, it’s a bit like a long pea pod with upwards of a dozen beans inside each one) into piles of still wet pods and the ones that didn’t get picked right away and have already started drying out. The dry ones will be left in the sun until they are fully dry, and the wet ones are shelled right then (by hand, of course).

I’ve sat for hours shelling bean pods. In around 2.5 hours, two people can shell around 2.5 kilos of beans (around 5 pounds). These fresh, still soft beans are often eaten by the family.
The dry ones, once completely dry, are pounded to break up the dry pods and let out the beans. The pounding process uses a large (about 2ft tall) mortar and large (about 4ft long) pestle. You raise the pestle up over your head and bring it down hard on the bean pods in the mortar. Once you’re done, the whole mixture is poured from a bucket raised to shoulder height and poured into another bucket left on the ground. The breeze will carry the light bean pods away and let the heavier beans fall straight down into the other bucket. You repeat this process several times to sort out the broken pods from all the beans.

Now that the beans are separated out, you can sort the different types of beans (red, speckled, and white). This can take at least another hour or two (for a couple people). Imagine spending two straight hours staring down at plate after plate of little beans, thousands of them, and picking out the different ones one-by-one. It’s not the most stimulating of activities. But, finally, after sorting them out, the beans are finally ready for market (all of this I’ve described might get you 5-7 kilos of beans).

And how much do you think you can get for all of this hard work- the picking, the pounding, the sorting? Well, with the influx of beans into the market with the harvest coming in, the price has dropped from around 700cfa per kilo before the rainy season to just 250cfa per kilo now. That’s about $.50 per kilo. So, for a long day’s work (actually, if you include the drying process it takes longer than one day), for more than one person, you can expect to get somewhere around 1500cfa (about $3).

Sounds like lucrative work, huh? Well, when there aren’t any other jobs, and there’s no money left to allow you to wait to sell your beans until a time when the price isn’t so low, you do what you can, and you do what you know how. And so everyone continues to farm, despite the low return. And this is why everyone tells me they want me to take them back to America with me.

Time to Leave the Nest (9/30/07)

2007-10-29T11:40:00.000-06:00

So, it has come to my attention that I’ve gained the reputation in my village (among the women anyway) of being tied to my host mom’s apron stings, so to say.

I found this out one day at a baptism. At baptisms, the women all sit around together for most of the day. Not a whole lot new happens in the village, so much of the talk is gossip. Well, we were sitting around and the women were all chatting at rapid speed and I had zoned out as it’s hard for me to follow these conversations. Well, all of the sudden, I became aware that I was the focus of the conversation. As I looked up, I heard someone say, “Well, why don’t we just ask her?” I braced myself. I had no idea what I was in for. All I knew was that the whole group (20-30 women) suddenly fell silent. The question was, what group of women do I belong to? The women like my mom or the younger women like my cousin? I didn’t know how to answer, it seemed to be such and important question. But, a few people piped in to tell me I should just say my mom’s group. So, I did, to uproarious laugher. But, they all went back to talking amongst themselves (possibly about me???)

Then, the next day, my host mom’s friend came by our compound. My host mom wasn’t there, but her friend sat with me and my host cousin for a while. When she asked where my host mom was, and I responded she was at another lady’s compound, her response was, “What, you’re not over there breastfeeding? Oh, well, you must have figured out she has no milk left. She’s old you know. But yet, you’re still always there.” My mouth dropped. All I could do was laugh (she was laughing too). So, after the two episodes, the point was clear. I have a reputation as a Momma's Girl.

I think this reputation has been a fairly new thing, since I’ve come back from training. Before then, I spent much of my time at the health post hanging out with my friend Bintu. But, since Bintu left to go have her baby (she went to have it in the city and won’t be back for a little while yet), I haven’t spent nearly as much time there as I used to. So, now, I largely hang out with my family. And, being as I’m still in the stage where I’m trying to figure things out. My language skills are coming along, but there is still quite a bit that goes right over my head- especially when words take on more than just their literal meaning.

An excellent example of this would be a situation regarding my friend Bintu, who at the time was still pregnant. Just how, in English, we have various sayings to say someone is pregnant (“she has a bun in the oven” or “she is eating for two”), the Wolof also have such sayings when someone is pregnant (especially since people are superstitious about saying someone is pregnant- it might jinx it- and so it’s not really talked about). Well, in Wolof, they say that the woman’s body is hot. Literally, this is also what they say when someone has a fever. I figured this out one day when Bintu was sick (and pregnant). Bintu wasn’t there, but my host cousin was joking around about Bintu and asked if she had a fever (if her body was hot). Not knowing the second meaning, I answered yes, she was sick. This was met with uproarious laughter. I had no clue why her being sick with a before was so hilarious and it took a good 5 minutes for someone to actually explain to me what was going on and why it was so funny.

Well, anyway, with all of the various misunderstandings and with all of the times I just plain don’t understand things, my host mom has been one of the best people to help explain things and tell me what it is I need to know. So, I probably do spend a fair amount of time around my host mom- especially now that Bintu’s not around. It should also be said that my host mom is also one of the people who try and protect me too. She can be one of the first people to tell me, “no, don’t do that, sit down,” or, “Don’t call her Maguette Toubab, call her Maguette Gningue or Maguette Cerrer” (a play off my name that I’ve told people I don’t like, literally meaning the white Maguette (my Senegalese name)). But, though perhaps it’s helpful to be with those who are helpful a lot and who will stick up for me, perhaps I need to branch out as well. :)

Ramadan (9/24/07)

2007-09-24T10:29:00.000-06:00

Shortly after I returned from all of my travels, Ramadan began. Ramadan is the month of daylight fasting that all adult Muslims are supposed to observe. You wake up early in the morning (around 5am) to eat breakfast before the sun rises. And then you are not supposed to eat or drink anything (including water) again until sunset (here, that’s around 7pm). At the end of the month, there is a huge party, and everyone celebrates. But, until then, life is hard- especially when you live in Africa, just south of the Sahara.

Though Ramadan would be challenging for anyone (just try it for a day or two and you’ll know), it is especially hard here. Especially considering that this year, Ramadan falls during the rainy season- which is the season of planting crops and heading to the fields everyday. How are you supposed to be able to tend to the crops (which is all done by hand, mind you- I went with my family one day and helped them pick all the weeds from the field by hand, pulling grass plants up by their roots) when you aren’t able to eat, and the sun is hot, and you can’t drink any water?
Well, the solution here seems to be that people will go to the fields early- around 7:30 or 8- work for several hours while the sun is still not that high, and then be back home by around 10 or 11. The rest of the day is generally spent sitting around and/or sleeping. I’ve gotten a lot of reading done in the week and a half since Ramadan started.

So, I tried to fast. And, I more or less did it for a few days (I’ll be honest- I cheated and didn’t wake up at 5am to eat breakfast, but would wait until I actually woke up, eat breakfast around 8am and then fast the rest of the day). But, when my anemia induced headaches came back (briefly, but distinctly on a couple nights), I decided it wasn’t worth it. If I were Muslim, perhaps I would stick it out. But, I’m not. So, I’m forgoing fasting for the most part.

Though I’m not really fasting anymore, I’m not telling my village that. I feel it would be rude to sit and eat and drink in front of them. So, what I do is to eat breakfast when I wake up in the morning, before I even leave my hut. Then, when I take my showers during the day (I usually take two) and I lock myself in my hut, I’ll have a little snack, and drink some water. Still, I think I end up eating less than what I would normally eat in a meal (my snacks are usually some crackers and cheese or some trail mix my mom sent in a care package), and I drink a lot less than I would normally in a day (I usually drink around 2 liters of water a day, but now I’m down to about 1). So, though I have little to complain about as far as Ramadan goes, I do feel for all those around me. It is tough- especially in the African sun.

Returning Home (9/15/07)

2007-09-24T10:22:00.000-06:00

So, as I’ve said, because of In-Service Training (IST), the regional IST, and various trips to Dakar, I had only spent about 3 or 4 days in my village over the past 6 weeks or so. And, though most of that time away wasn’t really by choice, there are still consequences for being away for so long.

Most of the problems first came about when I was back in the village for 3-4 days right after IST. First off, I couldn’t get into my hut. The frame to my front door had been infested by what I previously thought were termites. They’re the same bugs that infested my room in Thies. But, being as the frame to my door is wood and it was still intact, they can’t be termites. But, whatever they are, they bring in piles of dirt and build huge dirt mounds- the one I found after IST was about 1ft x 6in x 5in, suspended in mid-air between my screen door and the outside door. It started in the hole in the concrete made for my deadbolt. I would clean it all away as best I could, but for the next 3 days, it kept coming back. My family told me to pour salt water over the area to help kill the bugs. But, they still came back each day.

So, when I left again for over a week, I knew they were going to come back. And, sure enough, they did. It again took several minutes and digging around the lock in order to open the door. The mound wasn’t nearly as big as it had been after a month, but it was still troublesome. So, I cleaned it out once again.

But, of course, there was a new problem. It didn’t seem like a big deal. But, there was a spot on the inside of the wall near the door where the cement started bulging out. The cement was cracking, but hadn’t broken off yet. Well, sure enough, that night, I was woken up by the sound of concrete pieces falling on the floor. Something was making its way out of the wall. I shone my flashlight over there, but the dim light wasn’t enough to see anything through the mosquito net. I thought about getting up and out from behind the mosquito net to check it out, but ultimately decided whatever it was could wait until morning.

Mushrooms. There were mushrooms growing out of my wall. It would seem that, though the bugs may not have liked all the water I doused them with, it made for the perfect growing environment for mushrooms- wet, dark, and warm.

Huh. Not something I’d ever expected when I decided to come to Senegal. But, I did what I had to do. We called the local mason (my neighbor) and asked him to patch up the new hole and also to patch up the hole the bugs had made in the door frame (though they don’t eat wood, they do seem to wear away at the cement and replace it with dirt). So, I helped him clean out the mushroom nest (my neighbor wanted to just patch it over- I insisted we clean out all the roots or they would just come back). We ended up with a hole about 6 inches wide. The mushrooms were well ingrained in my wall.

So that’s the structural problems I came back to. Then there was the other infestation- this time, it was crickets. It’s kind of nice to be able to go outside and listen to all of the crickets frogs making noise. But it’s another matter to have those same crickets only a few feet away from you while you sleep. I don’t know why, but the crickets love my room. And they breed like crazy. Each of the times I came back after being away for more than a day or two, I would kill a dozen of them on the spot. And then, as one or two would venture out from the dark spaces under or beneath things, I would kill more. I’ll hear one chirping in the night, trick it into coming out, and kill it (which is not as easy as it sounds- they have good motion perception, like flies, and are good at evading a swinging flip flop). And, I will think, “Ok, now the room will be quiet.” But, just a few moments later, the chirping will begin anew. Though I still continue to kill them whenever I have the chance, I’ve more or less given up on the idea of getting rid of them completely (some goals are just futile), and have gotten used to their racket during the night.

If that weren’t enough, I also found that, though there weren’t any leaks in my roof when I left, the onslaught of the rainy season had brought about several new leaks. My bed had water stains on it and the fabric I use to cover my bookcase and to keep out the dust had gotten wet (and it was easy to see where, as the colors in the fabric had started to run- in the exact direction of the flow of the dripping water). I had arrived back in the afternoon and spent the whole next morning having to do laundry- not only did I have all the dirty clothes from my trip, but I had to take care of these new water stained articles as well. Fortunately, hand washing isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, and, though I was doing laundry for a good 4 hours, everything came out looking just fine. But, I now leave buckets and/or cups in very specific places anytime I leave just in case it rains.

Life in Dakar (09/10/07)

2007-09-10T05:27:00.000-06:00

For a volunteer who's only been here for about 6 months, I've spent a great deal of time in Dakar. I've meet some volunteers (mainly from the far flung regions of Senegal), who have, outside of training, only been to Dakar once or twice. I have now been to Dakar 4 times- and all of those within the past 2 months. And the time probably adds up to a couple weeks worth.

Life in Dakar is drastically different than life in the village. In many ways, it is similar to life in any major city- traffic galore, large supermarkets, pickpockets, etc. Life in Dakar is also very expensive. When I spend all of my time in the village, I usually spend around 10,000cfa a week (around $20). About half that I spend on food for my family and the other half is spent on transport/cell phone credit/and miscellaneous other needs. Just the other day, here in Dakar, I spent that much in one day. Granted I went out to eat and did a few other entertainment type things that aren't really options when I'm in the village. But that just gives you an idea of how drastic the living situation can be in the city vs. in the village.

I hadn't really intended on spending more than a day or two in Dakar. But, being as I came into Dakar late (11pm) on Thursday, and the PC office is only open until 12:30 on Fridays, I wasn't able to get everything done I'd needed to. I was hoping on heading back to site on Saturday. The women in my village were all asking when I was going to weigh the babies again. And Mondays are really the only day on which I can do it, as Monday is a day for resting and no one goes to the fields (pretty much everyone goes to the fields on the other days). So, I wanted to be back by Monday. But, fate would have nothing of that. So, I was here for the weekend. And, as it turned out, I had a pretty good weekend.

It just so happened that there were a few volunteers coming into Dakar to go to a big national soccer match. Senegal would be playing Burkina Faso (another West African country) at home. So, I tagged along. It was a pretty good game. The first half went back and forth and ended at 1-1. But, in the second half, Senegal ran away with the ball and the game ended 5-1, Senegal. Woohoo! Go Senegal! Then, on Sunday, several volunteers were swimming in the big Dakar to Goree Island swim. Goree Island is an island 3km off the coast of Dakar. In the past it had been used as a slaving island and now holds a museum about the slave trade in Senegal. The island also has a very unique culture and is an interesting place to visit. So, I went to see the swimmers off at the starting line and then met them at the end at Goree Island. It's a long swim, but all 5 volunteers who participated made it. And then we had a chance to walk around the island a bit before heading back to the mainland. It was a good day.

And now, here I am, back at the office, trying to finish up everything I need to get done so I can hopefully head back towards Kaolack tomorrow. Inshallah, it will happen (though I don't use this phrase with the same religious conviction most of the Senegalese use with it, I still have a habit of using it any time I talk about something that I hope will happen in the future).

Being as I haven't been back to my village now, with the exception of just a few days, in over a month, it's hard to imagine going back and just sitting around again. I'm looking forward to going back. I am. But it's definitely going to be a change of pace. But, I do want to get back to start doing some more work on projects and getting things going in my village.

Transport (9/7/07)

2007-09-07T05:08:00.000-06:00

I know I mentioned this in my last entry. But, really, I think it deserves a little more attention. And it helps draw a better picture, I think, for all those of you at home so you can better imagine what our daily lives as volunteers here in Senegal are like.

So, transport in Senegal, as in most of West Africa, is less than one might hope for. As an example, for me to go the 30km from my village to Kaolack, it takes, on a good day, a little over 2 hours. On a bad day, it can take 4-5 (this was a day when there were just no charettes to get me out of my village and I had to wait a long time). And, the transport, once you do find it, is less than comfortable. Taking a charette (horse drawn cart that seats 8 or 9 on basically a large wood platform) is actually the most comfortable form of transport, in my opinion. It's probably the least crowded form (generally anyhow).

Then, there are what volunteers call Al-hums (short for Al-humdulilah- thanks be to God- which is written across the front of all of them). The easiest way to describe them is to compare them to a large conversion van (the ones that seat 15 people). Except these are bigger than that and generally seat 20 some people. But, because the amount of money the drivers make is directly tied to how many people they can fit in the car, they fill them up with as many people as possible. And the car won't leave until its completely full. So, depending on how full it is when you get there, you may be waiting a while before you can leave. I've been unfortunate enough to be the very first person to get on an al-hum. I waited over an hour before it filled up. Imagine sitting in a stuffy car in the African sun for an hour- as it slowly fills up with more and more warm bodies. It's no wonder there are kids all over the garage (where you catch the cars) selling hand-held fans. Depending on how far you're going, this may or may not be a bad option. For me to get from Guinguineo to Kaolack, it's my main option. And, as the ride is only about 45min long, it's not bad. And there's only really 2 spots where people get on or off the car (the car will stop anytime someone wants to get off before the actual destination- and once there's an open spot, they will also pick up new passangers along the way). So, if you're going anywhere far, you can expect to be delayed even further by having to stop a million times to let people on or off.

Then, you have your sept-places (7 seaters). These cars are station wagons with 2 backseats. And they put 3 people in each of the back seats. For the row directly behind the driver, this isn't too bad. It's like fitting 3 people in the backseat of any car. But putting 3 people in the far back seat is a little harder, as you have the wheelwells to contend with. And, even that's not that bad if you're not going far. And even for longer distances it is better than an al-hum. But, there is still no room to move. And, like all automobiles in Senegal, 7-places are hardly in good condition. So the padding on your seats is less than you might hope for. And the available leg room makes flying on an airplane seem like a dream.

So, now, with that as the back drop for imagining transport in Senegal, imagine travelling even 5 hours without stopping, cramped in the middle of the back seat of a 7-place. When you first sit down, it's not all that bad. You chat with those next to you for a few minutes (undoubtedly they are amazed by the fact that a toubab speaks Wolof). But, as the hours drag on, in a car that lacks any recognizable shock system, your legs start to cramp a bit. But there's no where to move them to, so you continue to sit. And then your butt starts to hurt. But, again, there are only a few inches in which to move even a little. And anytime you do, you disturb those next to you. So, maybe you shift. But, that really doesn't help. And so you sit some more. Until, finally, at long last, you stop at the destination after 5 hours of sitting all cramped up.

And that's not a long ride. That's about what my ride from Kaolack to Dakar is. But, I'm pretty lucky. I don't live that far outside of Dakar. Those who live in the north or in the farther south near Tamba, Kedagou, or Kolda have much longer journeys (upwards of 10 hours or even 2 days worth if you go to Kolda). And, though some drivers will stop along the way (I had one that even let us stop for lunch), many do not. Imagine driving 9 hours without a bathroom break. It happens. And then, for those who have to go through Tamba (everyone in the south), the road is horrible. I had never been down that way before the regional IST. People told me it was bad. But, I was not very prepared. As always seems to be my luck, I was in the middle of the back seat. And I was really tired to begin with. I was hoping I might be able to sleep my way through much of the trip. But, the farther we got from Kaolack, the worse the road got. Eventually, it was so bad, the driver no longer paid attention to sides of the road (ie driving on the right side of the road). And we would speed up and slow down constantly, trying to avoid the huge pot holes that where everywhere. And mind you, this was in a car that had little of its shocks left. We swerved left, and right, and all over. We probably didn't go straight for any farther than 100ft. But, I was still really tired. And I couldn't keep my eyes open. So, for parts of it, I had one hand on the seat in front of me (trying not to fall over on the passengers on either side of me), while I was folded over with my head on my hand. But then, I would fall asleep and my other hand would fall on the lady sitting next to me, who was too bothered by it the first time. But, I felt bad after it happened several more times. It was a long trip to Tamba. No wonder I decided to hitch a ride on the Peace Corps car to come all the way back to Dakar from Tamba...

Back to the Village? (9/7/07)

2007-09-07T04:27:00.000-06:00

It's actually rather sad. There I was, in Thies, just a short walk from a cyber, and I was only able to get one blog entry written. Shame on me! I do better when I'm in the village. It's been nearly a month since my last entry. Sorry.

Well, IST, for me anyway, was good. The classes, as a whole, were pretty good. And I was able to get excited about getting back to the village and starting some new projects (as well as getting back to weighing the babies again). And this was very good. It can be easy to fall into a pattern in the village of just hanging out and talking all day. So it was nice to have to sit down and actually plan out some activities and hear from others about what activities they have been working on. So, I left IST with some good ideas and a few solid plans.

But, here I sit, 2 weeks later and have yet to do any of that. And I've only been back to my village for about 3 or 4 days. And, I'm not there now- haven't been for nearly a week. Now, largely this is not my fault. I really want to go back to the village and do some work. But, fate (or whatever you want to call it) isn't allowing it. First, directly after IST, I had to go to Dakar for a few days for some follow up to when I'd been sick before. All in all, including travel days, this took 4 days. Then, I stayed in the village for several days. But then, my APCD (my boss) had planned regional ISTs so that we could get together with health volunteers from our specific regions to talk about specific projects/problems/potential collaborations involved in our work (this regional IST also included all of the 2nd year volunteers so they could give us their advice and talk about current collaborations going on). It's not a bad idea. But, it's kind of hard for me as I am the only health volunteer in my entire region. So, I had to go all the way to Tambacounda (a city farther southeast from where I am) to meet with the volunteers there. Because travel can be so difficult in this country, I had to leave 2 days before the actual meeting in order to make it there in time. So, I was only able to stay in my village for a couple days before I had to leave again.

Then, knowing that the road is hard to travel (the road between Kaolack and Tamba is awful- imagine the worst, potholed road you can imagine in the States and then magnify it 10 times) but that, eventually, I was going to have to go back to Dakar, I decided to go ahead an join in the Peace Corps car that was taking my APCD back here to Dakar. I could have put it off, it's nothing immediate, but going with the PC car would save me a lot of time, money, and pain (riding in 7 places- the station wagons that seat 7 passengers and which are the main method of transport over long distances- is hardly comfortable). And that is where I sit now. I'm in the Volunteer Resource Centre in Dakar. So, 2 weeks after the end of IST, I am still not back at site. But, Inshallah, I will be able to go back shortly.

Back to the Training Centre (8/10/07)

2007-08-15T12:38:00.000-06:00

So, we're back at the training centre here in Thies. It's a big city, so it's a big change from the village. Even the locals can tell the difference. I am a Kaw-kaw (pronounced cow-cow) now (the Senegalese equivolent of a redneck). I even tell stories of the village to my host family here and they are as amazed and appauled in a way very similar to what I imagine your reactions to be. They swear they could never live in the village. I keep trying to tell my host sister that she should come visit me in the village. At first, she said no outright- no way she'd go to the village. But now, I've worn her down enough for her to say she'd come, but she still refuses to spend the night (a tricky proposition for visiting a village whose only available transport is a horse drawn cart (charette) that is generally only available at two times during the day. Her refusal to spend the night I think was spurred on by my stories of snakes, scorpions, and frogs... :)

All in all, things are going pretty well in training. We have an APCD (Assistant Peace Corps Director) from Guinea helping out with our training, which is nice. Mainly, In-service Training (IST) is focused on language and technical training. And the tech training that we're doing is much more practical and hands on than PST (Pre-Service Training) was. We've done practice causeries (health talks) and have gone to a couple of "test villages" to practice our presentation and language skills. And for language, some people are continuing in the language they took during PST. But some, like me, are choosing to take a different language. I decided to learn Cerrer. Though my village mainly speaks Wolof (which is what I'd learned in PST), the people there are ethnically Cerrer and so many also speak that. And, of course, they all try to teach me it. But, learning a completely new language from people who don't speak any language you have a solid grasp of is very hard. I never made it beyond some of the most basic greetings. We only actually have two weeks of language training here in Thies (the third week is just technical training). So, I will be in no way fluent. But, I hope to have at least a basic foundation that I can study more in the village. We've actually covered a lot of ground for as little time as we've spent learning it. We'll see what happens when I get back to the village.

What Happens When It Rains (7/29/07)

2007-08-08T12:54:00.000-06:00

So, the rains have finally come. It now rains most every day. And, the world (or at least the few square km that make up my village) has changed entirely. Within a couple days of rain, the ground became covered in green. We'd probably call them weeds in the States, but the clovers cover the ground everywhere. This is a pleasant change from the static brown that it was. It also means that the people are heading to the fields to plant (nearly all of the people in my village are farmers). The rains came over a month late, but here's hoping for a good harvest anyhow.

In addition to added vegetation, the rains also bring about new life in the form of new insects and animals. This ranges from mosquitos (which I'd seen few of before the rains) to frogs abound. I was out walking in the fields with my host mom and cousin and when we looked out across the fields, it appeared as though it was moving there were so many frogs jumping around.

Well, when you live in a hut, it can be hard to keep all of the new found wildlife out of your hut. It started with the general insects- everything from beetles to strange, often large, insects I've never seen before. But, insects aren't a huge deal. A flip flop is usually a pretty handy weapon during the day, and a mosquito net keeps them out of my bed at night (though I do check under the sheets before I crawl into bed). Then there are the lizards. I've only had a few, but they're pretty small. And they don't bite, and they stay up near the roof, so I don't mind them much. They eat my bugs and leave me alone, so I leave them alone. As a side note, I have seen other lizards outside that are much larger than the ones in my room. They can be 2-3ft long.

But then came the mouse. I could hear scratching at night for a few days, but never actually saw him. But, figuring it was a mouse, I set a trap (sorry to those of you who think this might be cruel). All I had was some rat glue I had bought to actually plug up holes ants were using to get into my room. So, I laid my glue trap with some peanuts as bait one afternoon. By the time I came home from the health post, I'd caught him. But, anyone who's over used glue traps knows they aren't the most efficient way to dispose of a mouse. I won't go into details, but it wasn't very pretty.

Then, a few days after the rains really started, we found a snake in my room. Ah! It had just rained, and there were a few small leaks in my room. So, my host mom came in to take a look so my host brother could fix them. Well, as we were looking at the leak, she looked up in the corner above my bed and saw something in the space between the top of the cement wall and the start of the thatched roof. It was hard to see, as it was actually between a plastic sheet used to fix leaks and the thatched roof. But, then it moved. It was clearly a snake. Technically, it was still outside my room as it would've had a hard time getting through the plastic to actual enter my room, but it was close enough to cause concern. So, we sent someone to get my host dad who was off visiting another compound. He came back with a spade on the end of a long stick that they use for planting. With that, he pinned it down while trying to chop it in half with another tool (through the plastic sheet, mind you). Well, because of it's location, it took a good 10 minutes and the additional help of my host uncle to kill the snake. I held the flash light and watched from the other end of the bed. Finally, it fell out from the ceiling in two pieces. But, I don't know if you know this, I didn't, but snakes don't necessarily die when chopped in half. They had to continue the pinning and chopping on the floor of my hut (this is after it had fallen all over my bedside table and left a trail of half digested lunch). But, eventually, the snake bit the dust and it's remains were carried outside. My host dad buried the head in the sand and had each of us stomp on the 'grave' with a bare foot. I think this is a superstition to scare away any other snakes. I then had to proceed to clean up my room and wash a few things in the aftermath. It was an exciting day. Good thing I'm not particularly scared of snakes (it should also be noted that my family gave me gris-gris to protect me from snakes. I guess it worked as no one got bit. :) ).

As though that weren't enough, the next day, as I was reading before bed, I found a scorpion scapering across my floor. A few wacks with a flip flop ended his threat. But, with each day it seems I find new and interesting things finding their way into my room.

Now, after reading this, I don't want you all to get all scared about my safety or anything. Only the snake really could have posed any kind of threat (I don't know if the snake was even poisonous), but my familiy here knows well how to handle them, and as long as I check my room regularly, I shouldn't have any real problems. So, please don't worry. I just thought they were interesting stories I could share with those back home.

Weighing Babies (7/24/07)

2007-07-28T10:16:00.000-06:00

So, they say you're technically supposed to wait until after the first three months at site to start any new projects. We're supposed to focus on language aquisition and integration into the community. And, really, that is what I've been doing. I hang out with people under trees. Visit compounds. Have some of the same conversations a thousand times over (why don't you have a husband?, do you want a Senegalese husband?, why don't you have your ears pierced? (it seems just about every woman in Senegal has her ears pierced- they generally think I'm afraid to have it done and thats why I won't do it), etc). And sometimes I just sit and listen and try to make out the conversation as best I can).

But, at long last, I have begun to do some actual work of my own. I have started weighing babies. I think, as I've explained before, in travelling around in my village and in neighboring villages I've come to know that nutrition is a big issue. And weighing babies to chart their growth can be an excellent way to start talking to people about nutrition. So, Sidy (one of my counterparts) and I started in my village going door to door, weighing any and all babies under the age of 2. In the end, there were 12 babies under age 2 (and I weighed a 13th child who is nearly 4, but who's growth I'm concerned about). And, of those 13, 4 are underweight. 3 were in the yellow (mild to moderate malnutrition or growth) and one was in the red (severe malnutrition). That's around a 25% malnutrition rate. I was actually surprised that the rate was as low as it is. I think it might be higher in some of the surrounding villages. Though I haven't made it there yet, the idea is that I will spread my work to some of the neighboring villages as well. It's interesting that of those 4 who are underweight, 2 live in my compound. The nearly 4 year old that I mentioned is the little boy in my compound whose nutrition even his mom has been worried about. And his little sister who is nearly 2- both were in the yellow. And, of course, the baby in the red was the little girl I've mentioned before who's mom came to me looking for advice. The last child was a child I had never met before.

We will be weighing all of the babies again next month (or at least when I get back from In-Service Training in Thies). I'm eager to see the progress the babies have made. Wish me (and the moms) good luck.

Freed (7/13/07)

2007-07-13T05:22:00.000-06:00

Just wanted to let everyone know that, at long last, the wonders of modern medicine have indeed kicked in, and I have been cleared to head home. I likely will not make it today. Not all the way home. But I'll get to the regional house from which I can head out tomorrow to my village. Yeah! So, please, no one worry about me. I am fine. :)

The Wonders of Western Medicine (7/11/07)

2007-07-11T05:03:00.000-06:00

Perhaps there are things about Western society that I don't like. Road rage, reality television, mass consumerism, etc. But, I have come to realize that there are some things about Western society that I do really appreciation. Like medicine.

I will preface the rest of this entry by saying that those who have a weak stomache and/or do not care to hear about medical problems (you all know who you are) perhaps should not read on. :) I won't go into graphic detail, of course, but you will get the point. Oh, I will also preface by saying that, ultimately, I am ok.

I knew it was too good to be true. I'd gone nearly 4 months in Senegal without any notable problems- no rashes, no GI problems, no colds, no nothing. Until about 2 weeks ago. 2 weeks ago, I went to the regional house with my closest site neighbor. Sadly, she had decided to leave the Peace Corps early and I was helping her get her stuff out of her site. Well, the day that we left, for most of the day, I hadn't felt totally well. Not really sick. But not quite well. So, I went about my day as normal and went to the regional house that afternoon. It wasn't until that night that things went sour.

There is a scale at the regional house. It's several pounds off. But, if you compensate for that, I think it's fairly accurate. In any case, with all of the eating that I continue to do in my village, I'm always curious to see how much, if any, weight I've gained. And, so, I had stepped on the scale shortly after I arrived. Well, as things went severely sour, and, as I was spending most of my night in the bathroom anyhow, I weighed myself again. And, over the course of the night, I lost a solid ten pounds. Ah! That's not normal. That's not ok.

So, I called Med in Dakar. It was now Saturday, so I had to call the emergency number. But, I figured my symptoms warranted it. And, sure enough, as soon as I told her what was going on, she told me to go ahead and start taking Cipro (a high level anti-biotic). They don't normally do that over the phone. They usually want to do tests first. But I got it 2 minutes into the phone conversation. Clearly, what I'd had was not good. As it would turn out, I'd had Ameobic Dysentery. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Now that the test results confirmed what I'd had I'm now on more medication to take care of the ameobas floating around in my system (the anti-biotic didn't kill them just subdued them a little bit).

So, that was about 2 weeks ago now. Now, I've got a whole new set of problems. At the end of last week, I got a fever. Unexplained fever. No clear infection, no cold, no nothing. And, as we're taught in training, any explained fever should be brought to Med's attention as it could be a sign of malaria. Though I am pretty good about taking my anti-malaria meds, you never know. So, again, on a Saturday, I called med. But, after a short interview, she said she didn't think it was malaria. She said to keep on the ibuprofen for headache and pain (the fever was accompanied by headache and body aches) and to let her know if it didn't go away. Well, Monday morning rolled around and I was still getting the fevers. So, I called again and talked to Med for probably the 8th time in just over a week. She was concerned. Told me to come to Dakar.

And, so here I sit. I am staying at the Dakar national office in the Med Hut (a special set of rooms set aside for sickly volunteers like me- I am accompanied by Tenly with Giardia (a parasite) and a few other volunteers with various medical issues). I've had some tests. I do not have malaria. I do not have any signs of infection. But, I am anemic (likely the combined result of a diet that is low in meat and veggies and the dysentery). So, that explained the headaches. And some of the fatigue. But does nothing to explain the fevers. The hope is that the anemia has just made it harder for my body to cope and thus when I get rid of the anemia (I have iron pills) and once I get rid of all of the ameobas, I will get better. Inshallah (God willing), as they say here.

But, until then, here I sit. She won't let me leave Dakar until the fever goes away. And so I write emails. And update my blog. And upload some pictures. And take my required courses of the 5 medications I am currently using. And wait for the wonders of Western medicine to do their magic. :)

Living Life on 20 Liters of Water a Day (6/30/07)

2007-07-11T04:38:00.000-06:00

So, I knew when I was coming here that, being as Senegal is practically a desert in most regions, I would come to appreciate the amount of water I consume and would leave with a much greater sensativity to water conservation. However, I didn't realize how little water I would actually use while here.

On a typical day, I use about 20 liters of water (that's about 5 gallons). And that is plenty of water for drinking, showering twice a day, brushing my teeth and face each morning and night, and washing my hands however many times. Coming from the US, that sounds absurd. The average US toilet, I believe, uses 2-3 gallons of water per flush. So, on my budget, you'd get 2 trips to the bathroom and that's it. Maybe you could wash your hands. No showering. No brushing your teeth, and no drinking. But, I guess that's the benefit of having a hole in the ground for your toilet. No need to worry about flushing...

The only time I use more water than that is when I have to do laundry. And that's only once every week or two. So, life is definitely different here than in the US... (as though that had ever been in question)

The State of Affairs (6/26/07)

2007-06-30T05:23:00.000-06:00

I’ve been here about a month and a half. And, in that time, I have seen and met many people (most of whose names, sadly I can’t remember, but who undoubtedly remember mine). I have also seen many of the maladies that plague the people here. I have seen malnourished babies and children. I have seen scabies, fungi, and rashes. I’ve seen adults and children with malaria (which is just starting to come into season with the rains). And I’ve seen at least one person with HIV. And these are the people with whom I will be working. But, the question is, how do I best go about helping them?

The first instinct might be to just give them what they need (money, mosquito nets, medications, etc). This is especially true when I see these problems in my family here (such as with the little boy in my family who shows signs of mild malnutrition -he eats enough quantity wise, but lacks protein and vegetables). I could fundraise. I’m sure I could get people to donate money. And even a little bit of money would go a long way here. But, I’m realistic enough to know that that’s not what will really help them.

Anyone who knows someone who has had a heart attack and yet refuses to change their lifestyle, or someone who smokes despite knowing the health risks, can relate to why just throwing money and resources at the problem isn’t enough. Just because you buy the recent heart attack patient low sodium, low fat food, doesn’t mean they’ll eat it. Likewise, just because you give your family a little bit of money to buy some extra beans or meat doesn’t necessarily mean they will spend that money on what you asked them to. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink.

Behavior change is harder than that. Incentives can be a part of the game, but they can’t be the only reason for the behavior change. If they are the only reason, the behavior change won’t last beyond the limit of the incentive. And I want any changes I can instill to last beyond the 2 years that I will be here. Thus, I can’t do things for the people here. They have to do it themselves. And besides, to do things for them would be to treat them like children. And, with the exception of the actual children, they hardly are. They’ve lived their lives up until now pretty well without my assistance. And, if I were to suddenly leave tomorrow, they would go on doing so. Though perhaps I can bring them some assistance and information, I’m not so arrogant as to think that I know better than they do how to live their lives.

And thus, I continue to sit and observe. Partly, I’m still learning Wolof. But I’m also still trying to figure out what exactly it is I want to do. I have some ideas, but no concrete plans as of yet. That’s what my first three months are for, after all. To try and figure things out.

Work (6/19/07)

2007-06-19T12:04:00.000-06:00

So, I'm supposed to be working while I'm here, right? And, probably from my entries, it doesn't really sound like I do that much work. I sit around. I eat. I drink tea. I talk (though mostly I listen as I still often don't understand). And, generally, I sit. I do a lot of sitting. But, that, in general, is work. I am learning the language (and doing my best not to get frustrated when I don't understand). I am getting to know the people. I'm learning names. And, I'm building relationships. All vital parts of my job. And, I actually have done a few bits of more directly related health work. Both came about after someone came to me directly and asked about the health of their children.

The first incident was with my cousin, Maguette (which is my name too here). She just came up to me one day and asked why her son (who is about 4) was so skinny (and, indeed, he is really skinny and shows some signs of malnutrition). So, I pulled out my health binder, and talked to her about the basic food groups and how she needs to feed him more protein and vegetables (he gets plenty of rice and grains). And she listened intently. Now, whether or not I have made any lasting impact on his health or eating habits, I don't know. We still eat a lot of rice and millet, with not a lot of protein or veggies. But, when we do have veggies or beans, I always make a point of pointing it out and talking again about how protein will help him grow and veggies will help protect him from illnesses. And she does seem genuinely interested in having healthy children- fat babies, and fat people, are a good thing here.

The second incident was with another women in the village. I happened to be stopping by to say hello to some of the women who sell various food goods in the main square. And she came up to me with her baby and asked why she was so little. She eats, and she's not sick, but she wasn't growing. She's about 7 months old she told me, but she looks like she's about 3 months old. So, first, she wanted to know how to have water like mine (I always carry around a bottle of purified water). When I explained the process, that I use the sun to kill the microbes, I think she was surprised. And I'm not sure she really believed me that the sun could do that. And I don't really think she started doing it (though she told me she would). The better part of what I think I was able to do for her was to connect her with a porridge project going on in the nearby town. A group of women there started a business where they produce and sell ready to make porridge that is very nutritious and high in protien and vitamins. She ultimately decided to buy a package and the baby loves it. And she's interested in buying more when that bag runs out. That was just recently, so I hope to be able to see the baby starting to grow some more.

So, little by little, I have started to do some work. And Sidy, my counterpart, wants me to start some more small projects soon as well. So, I'll keep you all updated.

My Second Family

2007-06-19T11:45:00.000-06:00

So, the way things seem to be panning out here, I basically have two families. I have my actual host family. The one I've described in past entries. But, it seems I have another family now as well. Because I spend so much time there, the Health Post (my two counterparts- Sow and Sidy- and Sow's wife, Bintu) has become my second home. So much so that, in the case where I don't come by on a particular day, the next day, they will go on about how much they missed me and perhaps how they are mad at me for not stopping by- jokingly of course :). And, though I have made commments about how often I eat (because I still often eat double meals- one with my host family and one at the health post), Bintu tells me she just doesn't feel right if I'm not there to eat with them. It's not uncommon for her to send one of the kids to come get me during the day to come over and chat or shortly before it's time to eat.

Though it's nice to have two homes, it can be hard sometimes, too. I want to spend time at both places. And both places want me to stay with them and hang out with them. And I need to go hang out with the other families and people in the village as well. So, I end up going back and forth most of the time. And each is generally sad when I leave to go back to the other. Sometimes it's like I have to choose which one I like better. Which, is crazy, of course. The question shouldn't even apply. But, I do my best to split my time. And do my best to explain myself in broken Wolof.

My Birthday (6/16/07)

2007-06-19T11:35:00.000-06:00

So, my birthday has come and gone. I am now 25 years old. But, other than that, not much has changed. I am still a Peace Corps volunteer in Senegal. It is still hot. I still wear skirts most of the time. And I still take bucket baths outdoors (behind walls of course). My birthday came and went without a whole lot of fan fare. I didn't actually tell anyone it was my birthday until the day of (which they weren't very happy about). I didn't want them to go too out of there way for it, but wasn't sure what they might want to do. So, I took the option out of their hands. I spent the day partly with my family and partly with my "second family" at the health post. Perhaps I'll write about that next. It was pretty lowkey, but nice. Bintu made a nice dinner (with meat!, a rarity here) and we danced a bit in celebration. So, in the end, it wasn't a bad day. Actually, it was a pretty good day.

My Family 05/30/07

2007-05-31T04:29:00.001-06:00

Just wanted to quickly update everyone on the family that I’m living with. My dad has two wives. And, collectively, they have 5 kids living in our compound (though there are others who are either off and working in the cities or studying in Guinguineo as there is no lycee (high school) in Ndiago). And one of those actually just recently left to find work in Dakar. So there are only 4 kids actually in my family. But, there are other people (relatives in some fashion, though I have yet to figure out the lineage quite yet) in my compound as well. Two women, one of which has two little kids (both of whom were very good about taking their medicine from me J), and a grandmother. And everyone is very nice. In general, they are very patient with me and my inability to express myself well. And, as long as I’m willing to keep up a good sense of humor and not take myself too seriously, things go pretty well. Laughing at oneself and at each other is part of the culture. It’s just something you have to be ok with- and not everyone is. But, so far, I’m doing pretty well.

I have a second family as well. My counterparts both live at the health post- one of whom lives there with his wife (there are three lodging rooms at the health post). And they have become my second family. I eat at least one meal there a day (if not all three). Having two families is nice. I can go back and forth between the two. And Bintu, my counterpart’s wife, and I are becoming friends, which is nice. The only hard part about it is that, wherever you go, if you’re there around meal time, you are expected to eat. Which means that I have been eating at least twice (if not more) for each meal. The food has been good, but it has been a lot. I try and compensate my portions, but that doesn’t always work.

Living out of a Bag 05/27/07

2007-05-31T04:28:00.002-06:00

I am happy to say that, finally, after 4 and a half months of living out of a bag, I am unpacked and settled in. I have been living out of my backpack since I left Chicago. And, though I had to wait a week or so to have some furniture made and delivered (via donkey cart, of course), I am now settled into my new home. I have a few settling in things I still need to do to my hut, but things are settling into place. And it’s starting to feel more like home.

The Children of Senegal Are Crying 05/27/07

2007-05-31T04:28:00.001-06:00

The Children of Senegal Are Crying. And it’s all my fault. Contrary to what I’ve been told about my first 3 months at site, I have actually been quite busy. It just so happened that my arrival coincided with the beginning of two big tourneys (traveling health programs). One, it was vaccination time. Once a month, my counterparts from the health post go out on tourney to all of the villages to vaccinate all the babies (here, they do all the vaccination series to children under age 1- it’s simpler and easier to track than spreading it out over several years). This is a very time consuming process. It takes several days to reach all of the villages. And my counterparts have to be very organized to make it all happen. They know all of the babies, where the live, and what vaccinations they need- all without the help of computers or maps. I don’t know that all of the health posts in Senegal have staff that are that motivated and organized (actually, I know that they don’t). Ndiago and the surrounding area are very fortunate.

The second tourney was a once yearly program where the area relais (local health workers- not dr’s or nurses, but community health resource people), go to all of the villages and educate people about Vitamin A and parasites and their respective impact on children under 5- a program funded through various international health/development organizations. We went door to door giving any and all children under the age of 5 a dose of Vitamin A and an anti-parasite medicine. This tourney was really the one where I made the children cry. Whereas before, I had not been the one actually giving the vaccinations, I personally didn’t make anyone cry. But, with this one, I was the one giving the kids the Vitamin A (a liquid capsule I had to cut open and then squeeze into the child’s mouth) and a chewable tablet for the parasites.

Most of the people in these villages have rarely, if ever, seen a white person. And whereas the adults are generally just curious, the kids are often scared. Some just stare. Some hide. And some cry. And, usually, it is the younger kids who are the most scared. Well, guess who I was going to try and give this medicine to? The youngest of the kids.
In general, making a child take medicine is difficult. Getting them to take it from me was probably even more difficult. Though some took it just fine (albeit with a wary look), many cried and tried to refuse. But, as any good health worker who knows better than a 2-year-old child would do, we forced it on them. It wasn’t pretty. But at least they won’t have parasites anymore (the rate of parasites in children under the age of 5 is so high that giving the medicine to all the kids is easier and more efficient than trying to otherwise identify who does and who doesn’t have parasites). And, as things go with children, they get over things pretty quickly. I’ve seen a number of the kids I gave medicine to after we went on tourney. And, though they may have been pretty wary at first, they eventually warm up (especially when they see other kids who don’t have a problem with me). And the parents certainly remember me. Which, really, was one of the main reasons I went on the tourney in the first place- to meet people and make my presence known. So, though I made some children cry, it’s been a good success.

The Toubab Dances 05/22/07

2007-05-31T04:27:00.001-06:00

Since being at my site (less than 2 weeks), I have been to 2 weddings and a baptism. And these events are always a cause for dancing- for the women, anyhow. And, at each of these events, though I may not have known many of the people there before, someone, undoubtedly, will come and get me to dance. They love seeing me dance. They get a kick out of it. They laugh hysterically. If you’ve ever heard of something being so surprising it made the music stop, well that has, quite literally, been the case on a number of occasions. I’ll get up and dance, and the women beating the drums/buckets are laughing so hard they have to stop beating. They love it. And it’s a fun way for me to interact and become known in my community. We’ve even had some impromptu dancing in my compound. In the afternoon, when it is too hot to do anything except sit under the tree and socialize, there’ve been a couple times now when someone has come by, commented on how well I can dance, and then will ask me to get up and show them (they often start and others will join). And someone pulls out a bucket or a bowl and starts beating. And then the kids get started. All in all, it’s a great time.

My First Day 5/16/07

2007-05-31T04:25:00.000-06:00

Well, as most things do in Senegal, my first day at site started a bit behind schedule. Teresa (the volunteer nearest to me and who is from my same training group) and I were the last to be installed that day. So, there we were, sitting around the regional house just waiting. Impatiently. Anticipation is the hardest part. But, finally, the officials from the Peace Corps who were installing us arrived- over an hour late. But, hey, it’s Senegal. An hour’s not really all that bad.

And off we went with a truck full of stuff. We met with officials in various offices where I received official welcomes to the area. Then it was off to my village. Everyone was ready and waiting for us (though not impatiently as we had been- time is relative here). All the people were gathered in the main square. The women were beating not drums, but buckets and pans- to the same effect. And women were dancing. The men don’t really dance a lot here- not to the drums, anyway. But, they do dance at the clubs and to more “modern” music.

Chuck (one of the nearby volunteers who came with us on our install) told me it’d be a great idea if Teresa and I got up and danced with them. So, with a shrug of why not, we got up and danced. There was an uproar. They all laughed hysterically- not at us in a “What are they doing? They can’t dance,” kind of way, but in a “What?! The Toubabs can dance? And they’re dancing here, in our village?” kind of way. They loved it. After we sat down, all of the important people in town got up and said a few words. They warmly welcomed me. And then I got up and said a few stilted words in Wolof about being glad to be there. And then everyone (or what seemed like everyone) got up and walked me to my new home.

I have two rooms in my compound (which are separate from any of the other huts in the compound)- my bedroom and a bathroom. My bedroom is made from cement, but it has a thatched roof (which is nice, and much preferable to a tin roof that becomes an oven during the day). It’s fairly big. And, unbeknownst to me, they gave me a bed as well. I hadn’t been anticipating this, so I’d bought a bed (mattress anyway) in Kaolack. So, now, I have an extra place for someone to sleep if they come visit (hint, hint J). And my bathroom is connected to my bedroom and inaccessible from outside (which is good for security reasons). It however, is not made of cement (other than the floor). The walls are made of thatched sticks and grass. And there is no roof (which I love- it’s great for star gazing at night, which is amazing here, by the way). As I said before, I have no electricity. And the only running water source is a spickot in my compound (conveniently right outside my room). So, my toilet is basically a hole in the ground- though it does have a slightly raised platform to make squatting easier.

After we dropped off all of my stuff, Teresa and the Peace Corps staff left and I went back to the dancing in the main square. We stayed for a bit before having to head back home so that I could set up my room a bit before nightfall (no electricity, remember). Then, after dinner, it was off to bed.

Sleeping Under the Stars (5/15/07)

2007-05-15T04:59:00.000-06:00

Well, now that we've all been sworn in, we are waiting for our installations. Each volunteer is brought to their site by an official from the Peace Corps and introduced to the officials in their area. This happens over the course of several days. Well, I am among the last of the people to get installed. I don't get installed until tomorrow (which is why I am using this last opportunity to update my blog and check all of my emails). But, I came down to Kaolack with all of the other new volunteers from my region (there are 5 of us). So, I have been here since Sunday (the 13th).

On Sunday, Teresa and I went to Guinguineo to meet the two volunteers who are currently there and who are our closest neighbors. They showed us around and also took us to a horse race. It was a huge event. Horse races are not at all normal events- Chuck and Paula had never seen one in the year and a half that they've been here. But, this one was being held because the mayor of Guinguineo (who is also the Minister of State, ie about the 3rd highest authority in the national government) was going to be there. There were thousands of people who came out, all of whom were very dressed up. There were griots singing the Minister's praises (griots are a caste of singers/bards who traditionally are hired to sing the history of a family and to sing the family/individuals' praises). It was quite the event.

Then, yesterday, we went to open our new bank accounts (a process that took a total of 5 hours for 5 new volunteers). And then, we headed to the market to buy some of the much needed essentials at site. We bought buckets and mattresses and sheets and trunks. Just about anything you might need in your first few weeks of being at site. The rest we'll be able to buy later in the big weekly markets as things come up. And then, last night, we slept up on the roof of the regional house under the stars (and mosquito nets). It was very nice (and certainly much cooler than trying to sleep inside the regional house). I look forward to being installed in my village tomorrow.

Most Likely To...

2007-05-15T04:46:00.000-06:00

At the end of of staging in DC, we collected a bunch of money to pay tips and incidentals on our way to Senegal (we didn't have any Peace Corps staff coming with us, so we were in charge of this money). Well, we didn't use all of the money. So, I was holding on to it until we decided what we wanted to do with it. Well, we decided to throw an end of training party. Other than swearing in, there isn't any official end of training party or other celebration. So, we decided to change that. It would be a good chance for us to say thanks to all of our trainers and also a good chance to unwind and relax after 2 months of hard work. We bought snacks and drinks (including home made cookies!-something unheard of in Senegal). We had dancing and music, and a good time was had by most.

In addition, someone found out that it is a tradition for each stage (each group of trainees) to write up a "Most likely to..." list. So, a couple people got together and made one for us. It was amusing. And, I kinda like my title. I was voted the most likely to become a Peace Corps Country Director. So, we'll see what the future holds. :)

Swearing In (5/12/07)

2007-05-15T04:25:00.000-06:00

Swearing in was today. We are now officially volunteers. We had a big official ceremony in Dakar. It was a joint ceremony with Jica (the Japanese volunteer organization) and Koica (the Korean volunteer organization). We sang the Senegalese National Anthem (as well as the American, Japanese, and Korean anthems). All of the embassadors were there. I think we were also put on Senegalese TV (Senegal has only one channel, so if we did make it on there, that's kind of a big deal). So, it was a big event. Over all, it went well. My host brother came with me (only one member of each persons family is allowed to go). And, now, I am officially a volunteer

Update on my Village (5/10/07)

2007-05-15T04:22:00.000-06:00

Being as I often write these messages before hand and then just type them later at the cyber, I thought it might be helpful if I start writing the date that the entry is written on the entry. I think that might make the chronology make more sense.

So, I just wanted to give you all a heads up about my life in the village. I will have water (not plumbing- just an outdoor water spickot), but not electricity. Electricity exists in my village, but my compound doesn't have it. But, fortunately, the only thing I need electricity for is my cell phone- which my mom is sending me my cell phone charger so hopefully I can connect it to my solar charger to power it. Otherwise, I will have to either go to the regional house in Kaolack or visit Teresa, who is only about 3k away and who has electricity. I will have cell phone reception, so I will need to find a way to charge my phone.

As for internet access, my village obviously doesn't have a cyber (internet cafe). And, currently, the bigger town near me (6k away) doesn't have a cyber currently. Though, from what I've heard, they have been trying to get a cyber up and running for some time. We'll see how that works out. So, at this point, I will only have internet access when I go to the regional house in Kaolack- which will probably be a few times a month. But, at that point, I will probably have more time to spend on the computer than I normally do here in Thies- being as I won't have a family who is waiting for me to come home.

Another update on my village. I found out from my counterparts that Ndiago itself is not really as big as I thought it was (I though it was about 800 people). Ndiago itself has about 200 people. But, there are some nearby villages that make up the rest of the 800 people I was originally told. So, my village itself is very small.

I think that's about all I have about my new village until I get there. Ba beneen yoon (Until next time).

The Last Week of Training

2007-05-08T16:36:00.000-06:00

To bring you all finally up to date, we only have one week left of training. We swear in as official volunteers on May 12th. On Sunday the 13th, I will leave my host family here in Thies (which is very sad) and will head to my village. Teresa (another volunteer whose site is very near mine) and I have plans to meet up with 2 current volunteers in Guinguineo on Sunday afternoon. They're going to show us around and then take us to a horse race. Then, we're meeting up with other volunteers from the area at the Kaolack regional house. They're going to show us around and help us buy a lot of the things we're going to need (which will be many as both Teresa and I are new volunteers at our sites). I'm excited to get settled into my village. I've been told I'm really just going to be sitting around a lot for my first 3 months. My language skills will be less than adequate, so conversations won't be able to go all that far beyond, "Hi, how are you doing" and, "How is the heat?" But, that doesn't mean I won't spend hours sitting at someone's house. Silence isn't uncomfortable here as a general rule. It just is. And, it's important to people that I take the time and effort even to just come and sit with them.