Three Months Later...

First of all, I honestly can hardly believe that it has been about three months since my return. It certainly does not feel like it has been that long.

Countless people have been bugging me recently about how my blog entries simply stopped when I returned to the States. I have had many questions about how my transition back to the U.S. has been and requests that I talk a little bit about that. So, here it goes...

It was a bit difficult for me to transition into being back in the States. At first, it didn't seem very difficult, as I was swamped with things to do for Rotary (presentations, report, etc) which kept me very busy. However, once that all settled down, reality began to sink in. I quickly began to miss my host families, my friends, speaking French, the weather and the sun (and the beach), taxis and public transportation, not to mention my whole way of life in Senegal. Of course it is also wonderful to be back home where I can hang with my family, understand the majority of conversations going on around me, have easy access to all sorts of foods (particularly Mexican), and see old friends again.

A question I've repeatedly been asked since coming home is: Am I bothered by all the wealth and excess in this country since returning from Senegal? And the answer: No more than I was bothered by it before I went on my trip, which is a lot. In Senegal I truly learned that I can live with a lot less than what I have. This realization led to many trips to Second Mile House (a local donation center) to drop off many things that I own but rarely to never use.

When I first got back I was bothered by television and cell phones. I rarely turned the television on and often left my cell phone in my room all day. That has since changed a bit, however I still don't use them quite like I did a year ago.

I dislike having to get in my car to get just about anywhere. I miss walking and taxis. Driving your own car takes away a lot of possibilities to meet and talk with people, and I miss that.

I still feel the need to say "Asaala Maalekum" whenever I walk into a store or a place with lots of people, but I've kept myself from actually saying it out loud. And I miss the custom of greeting every single person in a room when you enter it.

Since there's no one around to speak Wolof with, I use it when interacting with my cat. Yes, I realize this makes me sound strange. But aside from recognizing her name, the cat doesn't know any English words. So whether I tell her to "come here" in English or "kaay fi" in Wolof, whether she reacts to it or not is merely based on my tone of voice and hand motions.

Thanks to the internet, email, and cell phones, I'm able to hear from my friends and family in Senegal on a fairly regular basis. My host brother, Amadou in Kaolack, called and woke me up yesterday morning at 7:15am. It was great to see that he was thinking of me, but a little early for me to be able to make any coherent sentence the second I woke up. I chatted with him earlier today on MSN and found out that at the same time he called a friend of mine in Seattle, and he complained that she didn't pick up the phone either. I explained that 5:15am and 7:15am are not exactly the best times to call us and of course he understood and had forgotten the number of hours between us.

Although there are a million things I miss about Senegal, there are also things that I don't miss. These things include our belching sheep that would wake me up early in the morning and not let me get back to sleep, receiving innumerable marriage proposals, and being hassled when trying to buy something by people who just see me as someone with lots of money. And of course, always having access to electricity, running water, water that you can drink out of the tap, and internet is pretty nice as well. I really did miss coffee shops with wireless internet while I was in Senegal.

So what am I up to now? I spent a number of weeks in Illinois giving speeches to Rotary clubs and to different groups of people at Illinois Wesleyan University. I was even able to address the Rotary District Conference for District #6490. In Grand Rapids, I have also spoken with social studies classes in local high schools. One thing that this entire experience has definitely given me is great public speaking skills. Although I've never really been a stranger to the stage, now I am very comfortable addressing groups of people regardless of the size.

I am currently living in Michigan where I grew up. I am working here for the summer, while fulfilling family and personal commitments up here. I'm also straightening out the details of moving my life to Washington, DC. I was accepted to George Washington University's Elliott School of International Affairs. I will move to DC in August to pursue a Masters in International Development Studies. Part of moving my life involves searching for a part-time job in my field to have while I pursue my studies. So if any of you have suggestions for part-time work, or contacts, in the fields of international development, human rights, or international relations in DC, I would greatly appreciate it if you would send them my way!

Back in the States

After 24 hours of traveling, I am back in Michigan. Both of my flights went quite well. There were hardly anyone on the flights, so I was able to have a row to myself on each one. Easy to spread out and sleep.

I can't believe I'm back here. I'm quite cold, but being able to drink water out of the tap is pretty nice. I had a burrito at Chipotle as my first meal back in the States. Not a bad deal.

Now I will be working on my Rotary report, and then giving speeches at Rotary Clubs during the month of March, as well as to any other group that wants to hear me speak. Looks like I'll be heading to Illinois Wesleyan University to give a presentation as well. Let me know if you would like me to give a presentation to a group you are a part of.

Thanks for reading.

Last Day in Dakar

March 3, 2008

I spent all day today wrapping up loose ends . Visited all my old professors at the Baobab center in the morning, and spent the coffee break with other students at the center who I've known since I arrived. I spent the lunch hours wandering around downtown taking pictures of everything I was too afraid to take pictures of before. Senegalese people in the streets do not take nicely to people snapping pictures everywhere. Usually when a camera is taken out, some Senegalese person will tell you (not very nicely) that you can't take pictures, or they'll demand money from you if they think they're in that picture. But, I decided it was worth the risk, as I had hardly any pictures of downtown. And it actually went quite well. I only had one person say "Hey! You just took a picture of me!" But, I simply pointed out that I had taken a picture of the shoes he was standing next to and not him. He then responded with, "Well, do you want a picture of me?" So it all worked out well. The one thing that didn't go well at first though, of course, was that I instantly looked like a tourist. So a few guys came up to me trying to talk and telling me that they would take me to their shop. I was not very nice to them, as I was full of different emotions about leaving, and they were being ridiculously persistent. Finally, after I got the third one to go away, the Senegalese man walking in front of me on the street turned around and said, "Aren't they annoying? They just don't get it. You can have white skin, and live in this city, and not be a tourist. But they just don't understand. They see white, and they think tourist and money. And of course, he doesn't have a shop. He has a cousin who has a cousin who has a cousin who owns a shop somewhere far from here. Because of course the owners of the shops never actually leave the shop." He was quickly my favorite person of the day. Because he understood my situation quite well and empathized with me. We continued to make small talk for about another block, and then wished each other a good day. I was able to take pictures of all sorts of vendors on the streets, and even in the busiest market without being hassled (which is absolutely unheard of). It was wonderful.

I stopped by to see some friends of mine who live downtown and say goodbye, then caught a cab back to the house of my old host family in Baobab. I spent about an hour with those who were home, and then went back to the apartment to take a nap and finish packing. Since a nap was impossible, I simply finished packing. Then headed to the supermarket where another friend of mine works, and hung out with him for a little bit and said goodbye.

Then headed back downtown to meet my friend Anna at one of my favorite restaurants on the coast. I had only been there once before (it is ridiculously expensive), but it was the perfect place to watch the sunset my last night in Dakar. It's a restaurant on a dock that jets out over the ocean. The waiter pulled two chairs for us to the edge of the dock, and we sat there and chatted while the sun went down.

I then headed back to Baobab to spend more time with my host family. I ate dinner there. And with all luck, they happened to serve my least favorite dish… liver and onions with overcooked spaghetti noodles and a side of white bread. But I could only laugh about it, and ate what I could. The family was truly wonderful, and it was very difficult to say goodbye to them. They gave me a present of a pang (a piece of fabric that Senegalese women use often as a wrap skirt around the house) that was an aqua blue with fish, seahorses, and seashells on it. My host mom said it was because I like the ocean so much. I went to visit the son of my Rotary Host Counselor as well, since he lives around the corner, and said goodbye to him. He was so helpful in making me feel right at home in Senegal when I first arrived, my transition would have been much more difficult without the help of him and his friends.

I went back to the apartment where I was staying, took a shower and packed up the rest of my things. Around midnight, I went to say goodbye to a few more friends and go on my last scooter ride in the city. At 2am, I headed back home and changed while a friend of mine got me a taxi for the airport. My friend somehow managed to find the oldest running vehicle in Dakar to take me to the airport. The headlights didn’t work, so the taxi driver (who could not possibly have been nicer) crawled to the airport, the trip took 3 times as long as it should have. Which made me nervous, because I was already running late to the airport. But all was fine, I made it in and onto my flight in time.

Last Weekend in Dakar

March 2, 2008

I spent my last weekend spending time with my friends in preparation to leave. Friday night I went out dancing with the girls and we ran into many people that I've met and known during my time here in Dakar. It was wonderful to be able to spend time with everyone again.

Saturday, I started packing. Something that I always hate doing and something I usually leave until the last minute. Although I didn't get much done, I did get all my stuff put in one place and began organizing what was going home with me and what was staying.

Saturday night, some of my friends threw me a goodbye party. So, we all got together and cooked, one of my friends spun the music, and we all had a really good time. It was an eclectic mix of people I had been friends with since arriving to a South African (who is taking 4 months to backpack alone through West Africa) I met last week in the sept-place on my way back to Dakar from Kaolack. And afterwards, we all went to a soirée at the océanarium where I was able to hang out with most people for one last time.

Sunday, today, I almost finished packing. Afterwards, I went to the beach for one last time with two of my best American friends in Dakar. The temperature was about 100 degrees again, so it was the perfect place to be. Afterwards, we went to get dinner at a restaurant where we could watch the sunset over the ocean. I will be spending the rest of tonight speaking French with my friends as that will be one thing that I will miss immensely when I return to the States.

Daily Life

February 30, 2008

As my time wraps up here, I'm reminded of things that I see and experience here everyday that one probably would not see or experience in the States. And it's not even that all these things happen on a daily basis, but that things like this happen every day. In my mind this week, I've been making a mental note of things that I've simply gotten used to here.

1. Walking down the street and having to walk around a cow that was heading my direction, in Dakar
2. Watching a little cat sit underneath a huge skinned dead animal of some sort (part of a cow I believe), happily spotted in drips of blood and munching away at parts of the carcass that had dropped to the ground
3. Marriage proposals from almost every taxi driver
4. Having to discuss the price of almost everything
5. Seeing sheep (or even pigs sometimes outside of Dakar) on the beach
6. Being followed and asked for money by terribly dirty little boys without shoes that7. Really little kids crying at the sight of me, because I'm white (when in a village, or areas of Kaolack)
8. Creating a parade without effort as young kids follow me to work while yelling "toubab" (in Kaolack)
9. Women's breasts being in plain sight
10. Soaking all vegetables I buy in bleach water before cooking and eating them
11. Getting stuck behind horse carts on the major roads in Dakar
12. Having to slow down or stop on the National Highway while waiting for donkeys or sheep or cattle to cross the road

Tailor Makes House Calls

February 29, 2008

I have wanted clothes made in this country the entire time I've been here. It took me up until this week to actually take the fabric I bought months ago to a tailor. There is a tailor on almost every street of Dakar. So, I took my fabric to the tailor across the street from my friend Anna's house. I wanted two full outfits made and an additional skirt. I dropped off my fabric, he took my measurements, and we sketched out how I wanted everything to look. Within a day and a half he had one of the skirts and one of the outfits made and ready for me to try-on. They of course needed to alterations done, so I gave them back and he finished them by the end of the day. With the other outfit, he gave it to me and told me to go try it on at Anna's apartment. He said if there was something not right with them, just to holler out the window. So I did, and they weren't right, so we called out the window to him. He came up to the apartment and pinned what needed to be fixed and then took the clothes back down to his shop with him. Later in the day, he sent his son up with the finished clothes. So fast, and also quite cheap. A few days later I had three skirts made, he did them in just a few hours, and it cost me $8.

Thursday Night Prayers

February 28, 2008

When I'm in Dakar, sometimes I stay at the apartment of my friend Anna. She lives in a neighborhood a few blocks away from my old house in Baobab. The neighborhood is super friendly and very community-like. This also means that there is never a quiet moment. During the day, the street is filled with kids playing and adults sitting on chairs or benches in front of the doors to their compounds. I can't walk down the street without greeting everyone and shaking all the little kids hands. It's also always a Wolof lesson for me, because most of the kids only speak Wolof. There are sheep who live on the roof of Anna's building who bleet away throughout the day. However at night, it tends to quiet down.

We have realized however that nighttime quietness is not always true. Anna's neighbors have gotten in the habit of holding prayer nights on Thursday evenings in the street directly below Anna's window. This means that the neighbors bring huge plastic mats out, and about 20 people or more gather starting at 9pm. They sit down, men on one side and women on the other, facing each other. For the next 3-4 hours, they sing and chant and pray to Allah. Which is wonderful, except it makes it incredibly difficult to sleep. We found it even more interesting when Anna's downstairs neighbors complained one day that there was a lot of sound the night before coming from Anna's apartment, they said they could simply here people moving around all night. Not music, not talking, just people moving around. Somehow this was very upsetting to the downstairs neighbors, but the people chanting out their window until the wee hours of the morning was not.

It really is fascinating to listen to the people in the street for a while. There are call and answer prayers, and things for women to sing, and things for men to sing, and such. But it's less fascinating at 12:30am when you know that the mosque will wake you up in less than 6 hours.

Goodbye to Kaolack

February 28, 2008

I went to Kaolack yesterday to wrap up things with my work there, as well as say goodbye to everyone. It was not exactly an easy thing to do. Well, the work part of it was easy. I arrived to find out that CNN was waiting until next week to do the report on my project. They have such great timing. Got the additional books organized with the others, spent time talking with my boss about the future, and said goodbye to everyone.

Saying goodbye to my family was much more difficult. My host siblings were acting quite sad the entire time, which was annoying. My host mother/sister had matching boubous made for us, so we tried them on and took lots of pictures. They lamented that they couldn't throw a big party for me in honor of my departure. I spent my last night in Kaolack laying on a mattress outside in our yard in true Kaolack style, staring up at the stars and talking with the family members. I made the rounds and said goodbye to the entire extended family.

The day I left, everyone continued to act weird and sad. My host mother/sister said she wanted to write a letter to my mother. So we sat down in my bedroom, and she dictated the letter in Wolof to Amadou, who then wrote it in French. She left the room, and I was quite confused why Amadou continued to write for such a long time. But later, when I read the letter on my way out of town, found out that Amadou wrote his own letter after the one his mom had dictated. Maguette, the 10 year old, sang a goodbye song with my name in it for hours. Then, when I tried to take a few pictures of the family, she started crying and simply wouldn't stop. So we have family portrait pictures with her face hidden by a kleenex. My host mother/sister also sang me a goodbye song while drumming on a kitchen bowl. She also said a blessing for me. Finally, when it was time to leave, we gathered up all my stuff and walked out of the house. My host mother/sister wrote something in the sand in the yard in Arabic and had me walk over it on my way to the door of the compound.

We sat around and waited for quite some time for the right kind of taxi to arrive. I hugged everyone goodbye, which was very hard, since none of them wanted to let go of me, which made it even harder to leave.

But here I am, back in Dakar. Somehow I managed not to cry. My little host brother has been writing me text messages all day wishing me the best of luck in life and saying that everyone misses me.

Pilgrimage

February 26, 2008

Today is the Grand Magal, the largest pilgrimage in Senegal to the holy city of Touba. It is the holy city for Mourides. People have been leaving Dakar in flocks since Sunday. The city seems quite quiet compared to usual. It's estimated that between one and two million people make the trek each year. Many who don't have the money to make the pilgrimage to Mecca instead make their pilgrimage to Touba. People from all over West Africa flock to Touba for the occasion, as well as some from Europe. Touba is the one place in Senegal where women have to wear long sleeves, floor-length skirts, and keep their heads covered.

All day, the people who are still in Dakar have been complaining that nothing works as normal. One woman complained to me that she was supposed to pay her bills today, but couldn't, because most of the people from the company are in Touba. I went to the HLM market today to buy some fabric, and found only about 1/5 of the merchants as usual. Taxi drivers are also trying to charge higher prices because there are less of them around.

Books From Belgians

February 25, 2008

So many of the books that I was in charge of from USAID while working in Kaolack were in English. Although they were useful to distribute to English clubs and English classes at the high schools, we were really in need of additional books for the libraries in the schools and the book mobile. I spent some time during the past couple weeks in Dakar on the phone with the different francophone embassies asking for additional book donations. Today, the Belgians came through for me. The Belgians have regional cultural organizations with missions to countries around the world. It is the Wallonie-Bruxelles delegation that contacted me and told me they wanted to give me books for my project. So I am a big fan of Belgians at the moment. They gave me the news last week, and I went in today to pick up the books.

In case you don't know, Belgians really like their comic books. They have comic book museums and everything. I had learned that about them awhile ago in one of my French classes, but had forgotten since then. But I remembered immediately when I walked into the waiting room at the mission and saw the huge mural of cartoon characters including Smurfs and Tintin. This conveniently worked in my favor. Not only did the delegation provide me with novels, but also with many hardcover children's comic books. So, I am absolutely thrilled with them to say the least. The comic books are perfect for the region, since many kids there don't speak French, so they can be read aloud and the children can look at all the pictures.

Now I just simply need to drag the books back to Kaolack to put them with all the others this week.

In addition, the man I met with at the mission gave me a Smurf calendar for myself. It's going to be one of my favorite souvenirs from Senegal.

Update on a Sick Girl

February 22, 2008

An update on the girl that Anna and I visited in the village who was sick and had the sores on her legs. Anna and I started talking about the girl this morning, and realized that there was a health clinic in the big village closest to the girl's house. We wondered why the girl hadn't gone to it. We also wondered why the hospital in the city closest to the village wouldn't be appropriate. The girl obviously had some kind of infection on her leg, and at the very least we figured the hospital would be able to diagnose what it was and give her some kind of medicine to put on it. So, Anna called the pastor and asked him about the situation again. He told her that the girl who was sick had both spiritual and physical needs that needed to be attended to. The hospital he wanted to bring the girl to was a Christian hospital, which would be able to treat all the girls' needs because she was a Christian. The hospital closer to the village was not a Christian hospital, so the majority of the doctors were most likely Muslim. Anna tried telling him that with the money he had available for the girl, he could get her treated at the closer hospital. That the doctors there would be able to address her physical needs, and that he as a pastor could address the spiritual needs. He did not agree and said the girl's only hope would be to go to the other hospital.

Anna then called one of her coworkers who is in the village today, to see what she had to say and to suggest that the woman go speak with the pastor in person. The woman agreed with what Anna and I had been thinking and said she would talk to him. So we are waiting to find out what will happen.

In the meantime, it got me thinking about religion in this country. Senegal is a very tolerant country. It's 95% Muslim, but there aren't tensions between the Muslims and the other religions. But Islam is everywhere. The public transportation carries pictures of marabous on it and has the names of marabous written on the sides of the vehicles. The majority of the pharmacies are in the name of a marabou. Almost everywhere here, if you walk into a building, you will see a picture of a marabou looking over you. Islam is in every aspect of the lives of Muslims here. In the same way, those who have embraced Christianity look for Christianity in every aspect of their lives. And this may be why the pastor wanted the girl to go see Christian doctors.

Trip to Popenguine

February 21, 2008

I decided to go to Popenguine for a day to get a break from Dakar and see the lovely coast south of Dakar that everyone says is beautiful. Since my friends were all busy, I set forth on the journey alone. Not a big deal, the village I was going to is closer than Kaolack, and I'm quite comfortable in moving about this country now. I took a sept-place to the nearest city on the main highway, and then waited a half hour to get in the back of a pick-up truck that took me the rest of the way to the village. While waiting, I made friends with the people who worked at the boutique on the corner as well as the women selling vegetables and nuts. They were quite nice, and were surprised to see a toubab waiting around for transportation, since most people who come by there have their own cars or are part of a tour group.

I arrived in Popenguine and made my way to a restaurant for lunch. I ordered chicken yassa, which was the special for the day and also a very common Senegalese dish, but was served the strangest version of the dish I've ever had. It was good, and it had chicken and onions, but it definitely wasn't chicken yassa. I heard some guys my age speaking English at a nearby table and went over to say hi to them. Turns out I had found the majority of peace corps volunteers currently stationed in Mali. They had gone to Dakar for a softball tournament for the weekend, and were on their way back to Mali. There were at least thirty kids all staying in three houses down at the beach. They invited me to come join them and said they were throwing a party on the beach later, but I didn't end up going. I wanted the day to relax, read a book, and enjoy some quiet time. I decided that being around Peace Corps volunteers who were so ecstatic to see the ocean, be away from their villages, and have access to alcohol was probably not the best way to spend my day.

I wandered further down the road to the campement where I wanted to stay that I had found in my guidebook. I arrived at the campement to find out that it was booked for the night. As were all the other places around. A girl took me under her wing and walked around with me to help me find a place to stay. We ended up finding a guy on the beach who has two houses that he rents. So I ended up haggling hard with him over the price, and finally renting one of the houses for the night. It was simple enough, but it was cozy.

I went back down to spend a bit more time on the beach before heading to a restaurant for dinner. I had one of the best meals I've had since arriving in Senegal. I was pleasantly surprised. After dinner, I asked some people who had been speaking English at the table next to me what time it was. They answered, but were so shocked to find an English-speaker that they invited me to their table. One woman was a development worker in Dakar, and the other two were friends who had come to visit her. They were Canadian. We spent about an hour talking before they decided it was time for them to go to bed. I soon after made my way back to the house and fell asleep.

This morning I woke up and went immediately to the beach. I laid out there reading a book and working on my amazing tan. I had been reading for about a half hour when I looked up to see a full-size pig making its way along the beach. Now that's not something you see everyday. And the beach was quite clean, for Senegalese standards, so it's not like there was trash around for the pig to eat. But it didn't seem to mind as it continued its morning walk. A little while later the Canadians from the night before walked over to say hello, they had just been walking in the national park which was a stones throw away from where I was laying. There was a stray dog who had been following them, and when they left the stray dog stayed by me. He was joined by another dog friend and they curled up on the sand within a few feet of my blanket. One tried to come up and make friends with me (I remind you that these dogs are flea-ridden and not clean). I yelled at it and tried to get it to go away, but it was persistent. A man walking by me on the beach told me to hit the dog so that it would leave. I'm incapable of hitting a dog, so instead I took my sandal off and pushed the dog away with it, and that worked just as well.

When I thought I had got too much sun, I made my way to a little restaurant on the beach to have a Fanta and continue reading. When I went in to pay my bill, I met four nice Frenchmen (friendly, grandpa-type men) who were sitting at the bar and ordering lunch. Their wives were sitting outside. The men talked to me for a little while, and one of them with Irish ancestors talked about how we had a common bound. They were absolutely floored when I told them I was American. They complimented me on my French, which made my day.

On my way out of town, I stopped by a restaurant to get lunch. The restaurant I walked into wasn't open yet, but instead the workers were sitting down to eat together. In true Senegalese style, they invited me to join them for lunch, so I did. It was fish yassa and was very good. I made it about 20 feet from where I would wait for a car to take me to the main highway, when a man who was eating lunch invited me to eat with him. I told him I had already eaten, and he took offense. He offered me to drink, and although I should've accepted something, I declined cause I wanted to go find a car and make my way back. He took offense again. And he told me that if I waited for him to finish his meal, he would help me find a car. So I sat there and talked to him for some time. The talking was mostly him lamenting that he had only just met me and I was leaving, but that it was life, and god-willing I would return. A few minutes later he finished his meal, and when we walked around the corner, a car arrived. Perfect timing.

Camels in the Desert

February 17, 2008

The girls and I decided to take a weekend trip to the Desert de Lompoul which is north of Dakar, but south of St. Louis. We left early yesterday morning and met two Spanish friends of ours at the transportation center in Dakar. After arguing about prices and vehicles for probably a half hour with the men who worked there, we ended up renting a white mini-bus for ourselves. There were eight of us going, so that meant two to a seat which made things comfortable enough.

We arrived at the nearest village to the desert, and then were picked up in an SUV by a worker at the campement where we were going to stay. A few kilometers away was the desert. We passed by women carrying things back and forth between the villages on their heads, and people working at agriculture sites funded by NGOs.

We arrived at the campement to find it consisted of many "Mauritanian style tents." In true Senegalese style, the owner brought us to the main tent and pulled a bunch of lounge/couch/bed things into the same vicinity and told us to nap after our long journey (which was only about 4 1/2 hours… and I had actually slept the whole way). We chatted with the workers and waited about an hour for lunch to be ready. Lunch, of course, was rice and fish. It wasn't my favorite, but it was ok. Afterwards, we settled into the tents where we would be staying for the night. We tracked down the showers and toilets, which were very basic and were found in small structures built with dead tree branches and brush, with pieces of fabric that blocked the doorway (which didn't stay in place when the wind blew). After napping for half an hour, we sent out to explore the desert.

I am not a big fan of sand at the beach. I don't like how it sticks to you after you've been swimming. So I REALLY like that aspect of the desert. No water, no sticky stand, just sand everywhere. Granted, it still gets all over everything, but I don't mind. We started walking and saying we would "just go to the top of the next dune," but then when we arrived there we'd say, "ok, just to the top of the next one." Needless to say, we walked for quite some time. When we found a really good drop off, we spent a good half hour running and jumping off of it. This resulted in lots of sand getting stuck in my jeans. The landscape was incredible, and made me want to go to North Africa even more to see the Sahara.

When we arrived at dinner, a lot more tourists had shown up just for the night. We were all exhausted, but they had organized a dance outside around the fire with drums and everything. I laid on one of the couches on the tent and watched from afar, but it was a bit too touristy for me and I ended up going to the tent to sleep.

The next morning (this morning), we had arranged to ride camels in the dunes. So, a young boy (yes, there's child labor in Senegal) arrived with three camels. He only spoke Pulaar, so we could hardly communicate with him. He was about 12 years old, but looked younger. We jumped up on the camels and he led us around for a little while. It was super fun. However, the way the seat on my camel was a bit broken, one of the sides was missing and the leg holds were obviously made for a child. So, I spent much of the ride awkwardly trying to stay on top of the camel. It wasn't too difficult until we started heading downhill. But it was fun nonetheless, and I didn't fall off, so that's good.

After breakfast and camel rides, we headed back to Dakar.

Kayaking

February 10, 2008

A few of my friends go kayaking quite often in Dakar, so me and my girlfriends decided to give it a shot today. The boys had already left before we decided to do it, so we headed out on our own. We rented kayaks from the oceanarium which on the southern part of the Dakar peninsula. It was about $6 for an hour. We paddled along one side of the coast, and then returned and went in the opposite direction. The water was very clear, but we didn't see any fish or anything. It was beautiful, and not too cold. It was interesting to see Dakar from the sea. It looked pretty and peaceful from where we were kayaking… but we knew better. A bunch of Lebanese men went by us on a boat a few times and invited us to go get drinks, but we declined. Three of us had normal-size kayaks, but Sandra's was kid-sized, so it was very tipsy. She ended up getting flipped over, but got herself upright with a little help. We kayaked quite a ways and saw a number of different beaches where people were swimming, as well as the Presidential Palace, and some of the really nice hotels right on the water. We ended up making it back to the oceanarium at the same time as the guys, so they were kind enough to carry our boats up from the water.

Niakhar - Take 2

February 15, 2008

I fell in love with Niakhar so much that I wanted to go back and visit. I decided it would be a good idea to bring my three friends as well, since they haven't been to a village yet. From Kaolack, we took a sept-place to Fatik. My friends then didn't want to spend the $4 to take a taxi that would've left immediately, but instead opted to pay about 65 cents each to ride a little bus packed with people to the village. I would never get in one of these buses on the main highway, but since I knew the road we were about to get on, and know that there are rarely other vehicles on it, I said I'd ride the bus too. But then, we had to wait 2 hours for the bus to fill up. After about an hour, I started putting the idea in the girls' heads that it would be worth it to pay the $4 extra to take a taxi. But by that time, my huge heavy luggage with many of my belongings had already been lugged onto the top of the bus. When we got off the bus, we caused quite a commotion. The guys running the transport station kept telling us to get back on the bus , and we said we didn't have time to wait cause we had a meeting to go to (this is basically unheard of in Senegal; the Senegalese ALWAYS have time to wait); they refused to believe us and refused to get my luggage off the top. So, my friend Bethany started climbing up the ladder to get the luggage (which she honestly could not have carried down because it was quite heavy). The men started freaking out and telling her to get down (it's unheard of for women to climb up on top of the bus), but the women around us supported Bethany's efforts and started yelling at the men. We had already made friends with the women, as they earlier had given us children to hold and watch over while they worked. It was quite the commotion. We ended up getting back on the bus since it was about to leave, but then ended up waiting another 20 minutes until it was completely packed. The overall 2 hours of waiting was not worth the $4 that we saved, but it was definitely an experience.

We arrived in the village about 20 minutes after our transport finally left. I called my friend who lives there when we arrived and he said he'd arrive in a few minutes to pick us up (**side note: never in my life did I think that if I ever visited an African village I would have a cell phone and be texting or calling people from it**). In the meantime, a 12 year old boy ran up to us and said my friend's name about 3 times, and told us to come over to a boutique and wait for my friend to arrive. So, we sat down and the woman running the store ran and got plastic chairs for all of us to sit down (the hospitality in this country continues to amaze me), and sure enough 4 minutes later my friend Paul Samba Diouf arrived to pick us up. Paul had arranged a room at his family's house for us to stay in so that we would be with a family instead of simply at the YWAM base. His family is incredibly nice and welcoming. The room for us was set up with a bed, some mattresses on the floor, mosquito nets, and a fan… perfect. After we settled in, we went to the YWAM base. We visited with the director for a bit, and then Paul gave the other girls a tour of the base. I wandered around the area playing with Dorcas, a darling little girl whose parents both work at the base.

Afterwards, we walked around the fringe of the village among the baobab trees. We ran into a friend of Paul's who was going for a run. The friend stopped and told us lots of old Senegalese stories. He used to work as a tour guide, so he loves that sort of thing. Afterward he joined us to visit the village of Paul's uncle.

My friend Bethany always asks for bouye juice whenever we are anywhere the serves juice. Sometimes she will want it when simply walking down the street, and then will stop in every boutique in the vicinity to see if they have some. Bouye is the fruit of the baobab tree. The juice made out of the fruit is white and is absolutely delicious. As we were walking among the baobab trees, Bethany tried to find some fruit that she could bring back with her, but none of them were good. Paul's uncle's family gave us six fruit to go home with, and upon return to Paul's family's house, his mother made us juice out of the fruit.

Before dinner, we walked to the "downtown" part of the village. Bethany has a love for animals, and ended up riding one of Paul's family's donkeys part of the way to the main store in the village, and then all the way back to the house. It was quite the site. The villagers got a kick out of it as well.

After dinner, the girls were tired so they immediately went to bed. Paul and I walked to the other side of the village to visit my friend Anna who was staying at the pastor's house where I had gone to church last Sunday morning. I talked to Anna for a bit and then we visited with everyone else. Anna's aunt had sent her a box of dominos, so we taught the pastor and one of his children how to play the game. We sat around and talked with the family for about an hour until I got tired and returned back to where I was staying.

This morning, I woke up at about 7:30am. I woke up other girls up (yes, I am the early riser of the group, who would've thought?!) and we had breakfast when Paul arrived (bread, butter, coffee). Paul and I left to go meet Anna and the pastor. There's a girl in a nearby village who is very sick. She has sores on her upper thigh, and they've been there for over 2 years and continue to get worse (**the following is not for those with weak stomachs**). She has at least 3 open wounds, and there is puss that oozes out of them. We were told that yesterday they were not open and instead the entire thigh was very swollen, but then when they washed it they cleaned out the wounds. The wounds never truly close. She has been out of school for 2 years because of it. Her condition causes her great pain and makes it impossible for her to walk great distances, and she lives at least 3 kilometers from the nearest good-sized village. They want to put her in a hospital so that they can truly clean the wounds and treat the condition, but they do not have the money to do so. The nearest hospital that they say is equipped enough to deal with her condition is a few hours away. The four of us went to go visit the girl and her family. We prayed for the girl who is just 17 years old. Her eyes are full of life, but it's frustrating to realize that she can't go to school. They said she will probably die at a young age if she doesn't get the treatment to deal with her condition, and her family doesn’t have the money to take her to the hospital and pay medical bills.

After visiting the girl, Paul took me to visit a school set up by a Serer mission. The young kids were in the school yard in what is basically their gym class, running around playing football (soccer) with bandanas of the color of their team wrapped around their heads, and a young woman who was their teacher blowing a whistle and coaching them. We walked into one of the classrooms where there were only two students and a teacher. The two students were girls and were about 17 years old. They are the only students in their class, taking up just a little space in the huge classroom.

We arrived back at the house to see Bethany and her two friends in the middle of singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" with a group of children in the front yard. It was so cute. Bethany wants to be a teacher and it is very apparent. The children don't speak English, or French, yet they were singing right along in English. They also had taught them words including "dance" and "shh" (ok, I know that one isn't technically a word), and after the song finished they started playing a type of follow-the-leader game.

I packed my bags and then played football (soccer) with the kids while waiting for the time to leave to roll around. Adults here don't in general play with children. Children are usually left to entertain themselves, take care of themselves, and watch over one another, so they love when people my age (let alone TOUBABS my age) take interest in them.

We've rented a car (a sept-place) to go back to Dakar. We are each paying $2 extra to go directly from the village of Niakhar to Dakar without stopping in the city, and without having to take 2 other passengers. It's wonderful! We have room to stretch out and can actually look around and see the scenery (which is difficult when it's usually you and 7 other people crammed into a station wagon, a "sept-place"). So here I am, in the backseat next to Anna, stretched out, looking at the scenery and people of this beautiful country and typing on my laptop. A number of times we've had to slow down and wait for animals (donkeys, cows, and sheep) to cross the road. One particular donkey just stood still in the middle and waited for us to drive around it. It has been a great trip! We are sure to get stuck in traffic in about a half-hour when we get near the peninsula where Dakar is, but until then it's smooth travels.

A Thief Among Us

February 14, 2008

My phone was stolen. This kind of thing happens all the time in Senegal, but I had made it 5 1/2 months with the same one and was not exactly pleased to have it happen to me 3 weeks before I leave the country. I lost all the phone numbers that I had stored in the phone as well, which makes it a bit difficult to get in touch with anyone. What irks me even more is that I know who the thief is.

My phone was in my purse at work, and a girl I work with took it out of my purse and left with it. We all know it was her, but she refuses to admit it and refuses to give the phone back. She has her own phone, one that is even nicer than the one she stole. My phone was the cheapest kind available in this country. My boss keeps telling me it will turn up. She has pulled the girls (there were 4 of us in the building when it was stolen) together and told them that whoever took the phone has to just leave it somewhere at work and we'll find it, and all will be forgiven. But it has been a day and a half and it hasn't turned up. I talked with the girl and she lied to me and told me she didn't take it, and told me that the situation "touches her heart." She said she would be able to help me in any circumstances, except theft. I asked her to try to explain that, but she simply said the same statement again and added that there was nothing she could do about things that were stolen. I wanted to ring the girl's neck right then and there, but restrained myself.

One of the other girls who was there at the time screamed for about 10 minutes at the girl who took it. The thief just screamed right back. (If anyone gets the opportunity to watch two women yell at each other in Wolof, I recommend they do it; it is an art) Also, the thief has refused to make eye contact with me even when talking to me.

When I got home from work 2 days ago (when it happened) I told my host family what happened. They immediately became furious and started threatening to kill the girl who stole my phone. And they weren't threatening idly like and American would. They were quite serious. Even my little host sister, when I told her what happened, she stood up, faced the direction of where I work, and started yelling in Wolof. When she had finished her little tirade, she looked at me and made hand motions telling me that the girl will die. I remind you that my host sister is only 10 years old.

Yesterday, my boss sent me with one of the girls from work to the police station so that I could file a report. I had accidentally forgot the information for my sim card at home, so we had to stop by and get that. When we stopped by my house, the girl started talking with the father of my host family. They talked very animatedly in Wolof for almost half an hour, the girl retelling the events of what had happened. They then started discussing what they should do to resolve the situation. They decided that they wanted to take the three girls who were at work at the time to a marabou (Muslim leader here in Senegal), so that the marabou could point out the thief and then place a curse on her if she didn't immediately give up the phone… the curse being that she would die in three days. Needless to say, this made me a little uneasy. I wanted to get my phone back, but I'm not exactly a fan of placing curses on people, even thieves. But this shows how big of a deal stealing is here (even though it happens ALL the time; I believe I've mentioned that if a thief is pointed out in a market, everyone in the vicinity rushes the thief and beats them within a few inches of death while the police look on). The idea of going to a marabou intrigued me, but I didn't want to be the reason a curse was placed on someone. Marabous in this country are not exactly people to mess around with. They are the ones with all the power (not the government) and it is not unusual for them to curse people or condemn people to death.

I ended up going to the police station this morning instead of going to the marabou. The police station in itself was an experience. The prisoners were in plain view behind bars in the main room of the building. There were two guys: one whose eyes were yellow and looked quite ill was hardly keeping himself upright by holding onto the bars, and the other who must have been about 18 years old and looked like he was in alright shape. I had to explain what happened to a man who wrote a paragraph about me in a little notebook. The man was very confused by the fact that I had both a first and middle name, and was upset that my parents' names were not on my passport. But now, my name, my parents' names, and the fact that they live in Ada, Michigan is forever on record at the Kaolack Police Department. And, in true Senegalese style, after having the paragraph written we had to wander to the post office where we had to buy a stamp (while greeting everyone along the way), and then return to the police station to put the stamp on an official form and have that form stamped six more times or so by a policeman. I took that form to the cell phone company, who within 20 minutes gave me a new sim card with my own phone number on it. And on the way back home I ended up coughing up another $45 for a new phone.

The police told me to return next week to issue an official complaint so that they can investigate the situation, since everyone knows who the thief is. She will get away with it, because I'm sure she has gotten rid of the phone already. But maybe this will be enough to scare her, because jail time for stealing a cell phone here is 2 years… and the jails in Senegal are horrendous.

Work and Family in Kaolack

February 14, 2008

It felt really good to be back in Kaolack again! Great to see my host family and everyone again. And of course, I returned to find not much work waiting for me. My first afternoon back I simply waited for someone to show up to pick up the books, but they never showed up. So I spent the afternoon reading one of the many books. However, there was good news waiting for me… CNN wants to go a report on my project, so hopefully that will happen before I leave for the States.

A teacher came in to pick up books in the afternoon my second day back. It was wonderful! He brought his son to carry all of them to the car. The trunk and backseat were absolutely filled. The teacher thanked be every 30 seconds in both French and English. He was so ecstatic to have the materials. It was wonderful to see.

I don't believe I've mentioned this before, but the father of my host family in Kaolack is incredibly creepy. My host dad in Baobab, although quite an interesting man, always treated me like a daughter and like one of the family. That is not the case in Kaolack. The father of the Kaolack family spends most of his time in Dakar, but comes back to visit every so often. Like my Dakar host dad, he doesn't have a job. When I first met him during my last visit he was a little too welcoming and rushing to my every need, making me incredibly uncomfortable. He often would say things to try to impress me and invite me to take me out dancing or take me on a tour of the city. I always declined. Once he invited me out dancing and told me not to tell his wife. During this trip to Kaolack, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I flat out and abruptly said no, quite loud actually. He tried to turn it into a joke, but then asked if I could hook him up with one of my friends (3 of my friends have come to spend a couple days in Kaolack with me). I again turned him down. He was very insistent saying that he needed a girlfriend and that he liked young women. I told him that American girls like guys their own age, and that my friends weren't interested in him. This morning, he started talking about how he worked in Toubakouta for a while, which is a tourist destination in Senegal. He talked about having an 18 year old foreign girlfriend while working there. And he told me that the only way to get to know a country is to date someone from that country so that they can show you things. He finally convinced himself that one of my male Senegalese friends is my boyfriend (because of course, why on earth would I reject him if I didn't already have a Senegalese boyfriend?!) and he stopped pestering me to go on dates with him.

Amadou, my 18-year old host brother, took me to visit his school last night. He attends a high school about one block away from our house. The thing that struck me at first were all the goats in the schoolyard. There were at least 25 goats wandering around, and Amadou told me that they're always there. During the day, the goats mingle around the school yard among the students. There is trash and sewage in the schoolyard. The sewage is more off on the sides poured out on the ground, but the trash is everywhere (must like the rest of the city). There is a "cyber café" run by one of the students in the upstairs of one of the buildings, which is where I found out Amadou often escapes to when I thought he was somewhere studying. Maguette (my 10 year old host sister) attends the elementary school next door to the high school. There was a rousing game of football (soccer) going on, but the game stopped abruptly so that everyone could wave at me when one kid spotted me watching them.

My Kaolack host family is incredibly nice. They keep telling me that they refuse to let me return to the States. When I left Kaolack this morning, my host mom/sister almost started crying, and yet she knows I'll be coming back in about a week. We sat outside on a blanket last night together and talked (well, I mostly talked to Amadou since I can communicate with him, but my host mom/sister and little sister kept interrupting to tell me that I need to stay in Kaolack). It was really nice, and did feel like a strange little family. I will miss them all very much. Particularly Amadou who was the only one in the family that I could really communicate well with since he speaks French. He definitely helped me keep my sanity during my time in Kaolack.

Village Life - Niakhar Style

One of my good friends here works with a Protestant mission based in Dakar. She works with microfinance education in the villages in the Fatik region of Senegal (between Dakar and Kaolack). I found out last week that the village she was going to visit this past weekend was a village that I had planned on visiting before leaving Senegal. YWAM (Youth With A Mission, the organization I worked with in Costa Rica this past summer) has a base in the same village where she was going. I have been in contact with one of the DTS teachers at the school and had said that I would come visit. So I decided to go the same weekend she was going, and I convinced my friend Sandra to come along with me. The name of the village is Niakhar, and Sandra and I left to go join Anna on a Friday morning.

When we arrived at the transport center, there were no cars available to travel to Fatik, the largest "city" near the village. So instead we had to take a sept-place to Mbour, and then get another from there to Fatik. I always travel in sept-places when traveling between Kaolack and Dakar, so I'm used to them. However, this was Sandra's first experience in one. I think I've said this before, but if I saw a sept-place in the States, I probably wouldn't get in the vehicle. But here, somehow it's different. The sad little car looked like it was well-beyond its last leg. Sandra looked at it and gave me a look that said, "This car actually works? You're expecting me to get in it?" She walked from one end of the car to the other and commented on how she thought one of the tires looked low. But in the end, she ended up climbing into the backseat with me. She was squished between myself and a stranger. When we arrived in Fatik, we hired a taxi to take us the last 15 or so kilometers to the village.

My YWAM friend met us in the "downtown" part of the village and walked us to the YWAM base. The base is set right on the edge of the village. It has about 7 buildings and a large gazebo. We settled into our room and Samba (my friend) gave us a tour of the base. We ate some late dinner and stood on top of the building to watch the stars for a little bit before going to bed (the sky was fantastic because there weren't any lights for quite some distance).

Niakhar is an incredibly peaceful place. There are dogs, pigs, chickens, goats, and sheep running free throughout the village. I have come to associate pigs with Christians. I have never seen one in Dakar, but when you see a pig in a village here that means that there are Christians who live in that village (since Muslims don't eat pork). The village was incredibly calm and quiet, which was a welcomed change from the noise of Dakar. The one thing that wasn't quiet were the donkeys. I woke up several times in the night because donkeys outside felt the need to make their presence known. Many non-governmental organizations have offices in Niakhar, including World Vision and IRD. The majority of people in the village were wearing donated clothes, many obviously from the States.

The next morning we woke up and walked across the village with all the people from the YWAM base to attend church where my friend Anna had been staying. It was a small church service, maybe 20 people in the front yard of the pastor's house. The people of the village are mostly Serer, so the service was conducted in French and Serer. They passed out both French and Serer bibles as well. The songs we sang were also in both languages. The interesting thing about the music was that all the Serer songs were very African. The people had written their own praise songs in Serer with their own traditional music. However, the French songs were a bit more universal. After the service, they split into two groups. A group of women went into the house to discuss their microfinance activities with Anna. The rest stayed out in the yard and prayed for the sick among them. Which included a very ill child, a young woman that everyone said was crazy, and a few other people. They "laid hands on" the sick and prayed for many minutes over each one.

After church we wandered back to the YWAM base for lunch. We ate with the base director and chatted with her for a few hours afterwards. She is Swiss and has lived in Africa for about 35 years, 11 of which have been in that village. She has a heart condition and was told when she was young not to go to Africa because of her health. Her heart condition is worse than mine, but she has only run into problems once since arriving, and that was because she overextended herself with physical labor one day. The town she comes from in Switzerland is about 10 minutes from where I lived when I studied abroad. Needless to say, we got along quite well.

After chatting with her, my friend Samba took us on a tour of nearby smaller villages. We road on the pickup along grass "roads" between the small villages. Small villages in Senegal typically consist of a compound where only a few families live. Most of the buildings are grass huts, but often the building where people sleep is made out of cement. While driving in the pickup children ran after us screaming "TOUBAB!" The people were very nice, as is the norm here in Senegal. We were able to visit the village where my friend was born and lived when he was young. As we left one of the last villages, one woman gave us a HUGE bag of peanuts (which is one of the staple crops in Senegal).

We finished off the evening visiting the family of my friend Samba. We sat and drank Fanta while his siblings finished their homework and his mother worked on some embroidery. The youngest boy of the family was able to speak English, which was a great surprise. He wasn't fluent of course, but my friend Sandra and I asked him all sorts of questions that he was able to answer with simply responses.

On my way home the next morning, I was looking out the window of the pickup truck as we drove out of town… and I spotted someone I knew from Dakar! I was shocked. Never in my life did I think I would randomly run into someone I know when visiting a random village. But it was one of the professors from the language center in Dakar. He is from that village, and was actually sitting in front of the house he grew up in. Unfortunately, the reason he was back in the village was because his father had died. But, it was nice to see him nonetheless, as I had not seen him in over a month. And it turned out that he knew the people I had visited in the village. He had even taught Serer to the YWAM director when she first arrived in Niakhar.

From Niakhar, I travelled to Kaolack. I gave the peanuts to my host mother, and she used them to make a special sauce for the rice we had for lunch.

More Pictures!!!

What have I been up to for the past month? Illness, work, and travelling. Yes, I finally actually got sick here. After 5 months of health watching all my friends get sick one after the other, my number was called. But all is better now. Work is almost finished. And travelling continues. Two weeks remain.

Here are some pictures of the past month.

Soon to follow are blog entries, I promise.

Album #6: http://iwu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030544&l=e87af&id=41600114

Album #7: http://iwu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030564&l=0a047&id=41600114

Senegal in the News

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7214792.stm

More Books

I am sitting at home waiting for my lunch to arrive… it's 3:23pm. There has been another death in the family this week, so my host mother/sister I guess is at a gathering for that at the main family house. Earlier this week it was a grandmother who passed away and today it was a guy around my age. So my being hungry at the moment is not really the world's biggest problem at the moment, obviously.

Work this morning was great! We had three people come in from the local high schools to look at the books we laid out yesterday. We discussed how the project will proceed and what they are going to do, and what additional types of books they need for us. Right now, we're starting with three high schools… their English classes, English clubs, and books for the teachers. It also includes setting up basic libraries for students to be able to check books out of, because the current school libraries do not allow this. So at the moment there will be novels and geography books in it. Little by little. There are so many boxes and so little space at the school that is hard to see everything we have. So once we get these English textbooks out of the way, we will have some space to work with. Also, I would like to send a big thank you to the people who thought it a good idea to send "Keyboarding With Word Perfect 97" to Senegal. Not only do people here not use Word Perfect, but the keyboards in French speaking countries (like Senegal) don't use the same keyboard we use in America. We have hundreds of copies of this book that are useless and won't be going anywhere.

Tomorrow is another holiday, so I don't know how much work I'll be getting done. I still haven't mastered the Senegalese art of sitting around and doing nothing. So I'm hoping I'll be able to at least work in the morning, and then enjoy the festivities during the afternoon. I'm told that it's a holiday of eating, and children go from house to house begging for candy (much like Halloween), and that men dress like women and women dress like men. I'm not so sure about that last part of the holiday, so I'm interested to see what really happens.

Saturday I will return to Dakar again. My good friend, and fellow Rotarian scholar, Allen is leaving for the States within the week so I will return there to say goodbye to him.

It's 3:54pm… I still haven't eaten lunch. (And yes I've done other things in this half hour besides write this entry)

Idleness

I have basically been on vacation since December 15th when my role with Rotary technically finished. Just this past week when I started working with 10,000 Girls did I start having a job again. I was kinda going crazy feeling like I didn't have a purpose. Waking up in the morning and knowing that I didn't have anything that I needed to accomplish that day. It drove me crazy! I had enough of a break and was ready to actually start doing something again. This is a good example of how I am obviously not Senegalese (not that a million other things such as skin color and language would've given it away). When I started working last week and this week, even when I only worked for two hours and I felt like I really should be doing more, my family told me that I work too much.

It doesn't help the situation that about 50% of the working-capable population here is unemployed. But, the Senegalese have an amazing way of sitting around and doing nothing. Often, it's sitting around and talking. There is a lot of that as well. And people say that this society is built on the art of chatting. Aside from that, there is also simply sitting around and doing nothing. At this moment, while I've been sitting here for the past hour or so typing away, my two host siblings have been sitting on the bed with me… doing nothing. Occasionally they'll say something to each other or to me, but overall they're just laying there and not even sleeping. I went to a party yesterday afternoon with Bethany for a woman who had just returned from Mecca. We arrived and after greeting everyone, we were ushered to sit under a tent with a bunch of other people. Hardly anyone was talking, and no one was doing anything else. There was music playing, but not dance music, in the background. And they simply sat there. They were all dressed in some of their nicest clothing, and sitting. One man took his cell phone out when Bethany and I arrived to take pictures of the two toubabs who were there and then he filmed a short video of everyone seated under the tent. After a little while we got up and sat down next to some girls who were a little older than us, who wanted to ask us questions and become our friends. Before we arrived, they weren't talking either. But at least that kept us entertained for awhile.

Even this morning, a guest came to our house and just sat down on the porch away from where everyone else was sitting. She sat there for at least a half hour and then got up and left. During the middle of that she spoke with my host mother/sister for about 2 minutes. I was introduced to her, and I exchanged greetings but she kept looking away.

I'm amazed at the ability of people here to be content with sitting and not being active. This is a country filled with people who have lots of patience, and very little ADD.

Streets and Dancing

In Dakar, you can find just about anything along the street. It is exactly the same way in Kaolack. In Dakar, you will find horse carts on the national highway on occasion and people pushing cars that aren't working and all sorts of things, but there is still a crazy order to things. In Kaolack… the order is even crazier. Cars fly by without regard to any pedestrian. Animals run across the street all the time… typically sheep, but sometimes cows as well. The main paved roads are big enough to support three lanes of traffic, but of course there aren't traffic lines painted on them. The vehicles on the street consist of horse and donkey carts, taxis, hundreds of little mopeds (the most unsafe ones you can find, and they're often skidding and falling over), the Kaolack equivalent of car rapides, the occasional personal or business car, and the even more rare bus. All the vehicles go so fast (except, of course, the animal carts). It just looks like a free for all out there, not exactly the safest thing ever. I live on a paved road like that, and whenever I'm with my host mom/sister she takes my hand before crossing and then runs when the coast seems clear. It's worse than Dakar, which I didn't think could exist.

Dancing is such an important part of life here. If music is on, someone is dancing. They don't sit like Americans and tap their feet or bop their heads. The Senegalese dance in their chairs or stand up and dance. I put music on in my room one of the first nights I was here, and little Maguette came in and started dancing. 30 seconds behind her was her mother who joined us and started dancing as well. My host mom/sister will dance whenever there is music on, even if it's a television commercial. It's so great! There's no shyness . Everyone just gets up and dances (and for the women of the house, except me, shirts tend to be optional). Before I left for Senegal I saw a YouTube video of a girl who was staying in Senegal, it was 3 minutes of a group of people in a living room sitting down with music on in the background, and as time went on different people would get up and start dancing and by the end she danced, too. I didn't realize until coming to Kaolack how normal that is in typical Senegalese society. So almost every day since coming here we have had some kind of dance party at the house, aside from the two days of parties for the returnees from Mecca. I always know for certain that if I put on music with any sort of dance beat to it, within a few minutes I will have company in my room who have arrived to dance.

Book Work

I had a nice unexpected surprise on Monday… the university professors went on strike (again, as usual), so all the classes were cancelled until Friday. This meant that my friend Bethany from Dakar decided to come with me to Kaolack for a few days until her classes started up again. So, Monday afternoon we piled into a sept-place in Dakar with other strangers. One man who asked if we were French, we told him we were American, and he made a horrible face and told us that he's afraid of Americans. That then started an interesting conversation. He's basically afraid of Americans because he sees Bush as someone who will start a war wherever he pleases, and the guy didn't really like the idea of that. It was probably the most lively trip I've made outside of Dakar. At the beginning, there was some conversation between passengers. After awhile a woman got a CD out and gave it to the driver to play, it the was the music of a local Senegalese artist trying to get his name out. The music was alright. A little while later the woman who had provided the CD fell asleep. So, the woman behind me got her cell phone out and started playing music quite loud. All kinds of music: Akon, Nelly Furtado, The Pussycat Dolls, and Celine Dion. Needless to say we had a little dance party in the back of the sept-place. Ok, no dancing, but there was singing along and bopping our heads along with the music. (Side note: Playing music from cell phones is very popular here. No matter where you are. On the street. In a restaurant. People will get their cell phones out, sit it next to them, and blast music from them.) The sept-place ride took entirely way too long because the driver wouldn't pass if he saw any cars coming… he could not possibly have been Senegalese. This left us caught behind large slow-moving trucks for most of the journey. I was not very pleased. It took us well over an extra hour to reach Kaolack.

Tuesday I worked all day and Bethany came to help as well. We were incredibly productive, and it really boosted my spirits after a frustrating week last week. It started off rocky, but really what I have to do now is open up the boxes and look around to see what's in them. We searched for hours for English books and finally found sets complete with teachers guides and workbooks. Now, the 39,000 books are in boxes in all rooms of a school where I'm working. And please don't think that the sets of books, teacher guides, and workbooks were all in the same area… that would've been too easy. Nonono, they were all spread out and in no particular order. Even two days later I found additional boxes of books that belonged with them. But we were kept busy all day, and I was happy enough.

Wednesday we arrived at work later than I would've liked, but of course it didn't matter. There was not enough work to keep us busy all day. We worked until about noon, and then were done. We were told not to come back in the afternoon, because there was nothing left to do until Thursday. So, we returned back to the house for the afternoon. Amadou, the son of the family who is almost 18 years old, wanted to go to the beach so we decided to take him and his little sister and a friend to the beach for the late afternoon and early evening. About 5 kilometers outside of Kaolack there is a beautiful beach next to the village of Kahone. The water is insanely salty, but it's beautiful. There also isn't exactly a lot of water. You'll have to look at my pictures to really get an idea of it. Bethany and I didn't swim in the water because we didn't trust it, but we were content to sit on the beach and watch the kids play. We attracted an assortment of 15-18 year old guys who came over and started doing pushups with the two boys we brought. Bethany and I decided that we really like that age group of Senegalese guys because they're too young (in general) to propose marriage. There's always the occasional kid who tells you that he loves you, but in general that's left up to the guys older than them. The beach was surrounded by typical African scenes… people on horse carts, thatched roof villages, baobab trees, and such. It was so pretty! We were there for about two hours before the sun started setting and we headed back to the city.

Weekend in Dakar

My work last week was quite a bit frustrating. By Wednesday I had finished all that there was for me to do until my boss returned. So after another evening at the party for the man who returned from Mecca, I took a sept-place Thursday morning and returned to Dakar. I spent the afternoon at the Baobab Center, where I used to study French, catching up with friends I hadn't seen since before Tabaski and my old professors. I found out that a new group of study-abroad students will be spending some time in Kaolack, so the guy in charge of the Baobab Center wants me to show them around a bit… that will be nice and give me something else to do in a couple weeks.

I spent much of the weekend visiting with friends, as well as my old host family. However, Friday during the day I spent the whole day working on things for the Rotary project. Although my Cultural Ambassadorship is technically over, I'm still trying to help them raise $15,000 US to finish phase one of the maternity clinic. If anyone reading this is interested in donating, or knows someone who would be, please feel free to email me: Shannon.T.Orourke@gmail.com

I also spent the weekend, and much of Sunday, fretting over my graduate school applications which were due Wednesday of this week. My applications were completed and paid for before, but the schools were still waiting on IWU to send in my transcript as well as a professor who had yet to turn in one of my recommendation forms. I'm hoping everything got in, and now I will simply wait for responses… This also delayed my return to Kaolack until Monday so that I could make some phone calls to people in the States on Monday.

Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!

Lots more pictures from the land of Senegal...

Photo Album #3:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2027888&l=40c5f&id=41600114

Photo Album #4:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2029650&l=0fc6f&id=41600114

Photo Album #5:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2029685&l=406dc&id=41600114

What's For Dinner?

Soup. That's what I had for dinner tonight. Not that big of a deal, right? Well, a good question would be "what kind of soup was it?" It was basically broth and beef. However, "beef" doesn't do it justice. I had already had a few bites of broth and a couple bites of meat that my host brother had separated and plopped in the bowl in front of me. Time out…

Just a reminder of the way Senegalese eat… out of one big dish. So this means that when you eat soup, you're eating out of a big bowl of soup together. When eating rice or something out of the same dish, it's easy to stay in your corner and not share too many "germs." However, when eating soup, your section of the soup doesn't exactly stay isolated from the soup in front of the others eating out of the exact same bowl. Ok, time in...

So, we've been eating for a little over a minute. I'd had a lot of broth, and a few bites of beef. My host mother/sister starts chewing on the meat from a bone that she has picked out of the broth. My host brother comments on how much my host mother/sister likes beef. I look closer, and she has just picked dry a jaw bone. Yep, that's right. I give the dish a better look, and yep, floating in the soup is a jaw bone with teeth intact. Yummy. Looking closer I clearly saw a skull that was being broken apart in the bowl. It's a good thing I'd been in Senegal awhile and I guess worked up to this… because if they had tried to feed this to me back in September I don't know how I would've handled it. But, I kept eating. Towards the end of the meal my stomach finally started to realize what it had been consuming. So, I stopped eating and removed myself from the porch. Now, a few hours later, I of course feel fine and not sick. But man, that really tested me.

It has been confirmed… it was sheep head soup. So the skull of the sheep was floating around in the soup. Mmm, yummy.

Party Over Here

One thing that I always felt like I missed out on while living in Dakar was a real Senegalese party. The Senegalese celebrate everything: marriages, births, new houses, etc. Celebrations include the renting of tents to hold the celebrations under, music and dancing, singing, lots of talking, food, and the usual. My family in Dakar never held a party and never invited me to any of the ones that members of the family attended. Here it is, my second night in Kaolack, and I got to go to one! It was very exciting.

A family friend returned tonight from his pilgrimage to Mecca, so they of course threw a huge party for him. I know more people in Kaolack than I knew my whole first few weeks in Dakar. I was taken around and introduced to all the family last night, and tonight I met everyone at the party as well. Everyone knows my name, but I of course hardly remember anyone else's since I've met well over 100 people in two days.

The beginning of the party consisted of lots of women sitting around in circles cutting vegetables. There were men around talking in some areas as well. There were tons of children who immediately started hanging on me and calling me "toubab." White people are much more rare in Kaolack than in Dakar, so they're a bigger deal to children. But luckily, unlike yesterday, my looks didn't make any of the children cry. Instead, it made some of them simply laugh uncontrollably. But they were adorable. A bit obnoxious after a little while, but adorable. One little boy wouldn't let go of my hand. Another little girl attached herself to me as well and started crying when her mother tried to take her away. She was absolutely adorable.

The party started without the guest of answer. Lots of dancing, singing out to Allah, and drummers drumming away. I was sitting and watching all the commotion, but was dragged up to the dance area by a woman I had met earlier in the evening, so I danced along with all the others. When the guest arrived, it was a mad rush to the door of the compound to meet him. Hadit, my host mother/sister, dragged me out with her into the mass of people and had me take pictures. The man was welcomed into the house, but I don't know what happened in there. Then he was brought back under the tents where he said his prayers while everyone watched him. People then went up to him to get what seemed like a blessing and to hear him speak. They then gave him a chair and they continued to kneel in front of him and hear him talk and say things to him. Hadit pulled me over as well and had me kneel down with her. He shook my hand and we exchanged greetings. I put my hands out like the others, and I guess received some kind of blessing like the others. I need to ask my host brother what exactly this was, no one who was around me spoke French so I couldn't get an explanation.

After a bit of a frustrating morning attempting to work but being unable to, this was a great way to kick off my sejour in Kaolack.

Home Sweet Kaolack

I've arrived. I left in a sept-place from Dakar yesterday morning around 10:30am. Surprisingly only about 3 1/2 hours later, I arrived in Kaolack. I was lucky that we didn't run into much traffic while leaving Dakar. I arrived at the Gare Routiere in Kaolack and waited for people to come pick me up. I turned down taxi after taxi who wouldn't leave me alone. A little Talibe kid came up to me and asked me for my water, and I actually said no. I know I should've said yes, I felt bad, but I only had about 3 inches left in my water bottle and I wasn't sure if I'd have money left by the end of the day to buy myself water, and I can't drink the water here or I'll be sick. Anyway, the kid stuck around by me and asked me if I needed a taxi. I said no and told him a friend of mine was coming to pick me up. He didn't speak French, and my Wolof is horrible, so we spoke in a combination of Wolof and hand gestures. He then told any taxi that honked or slowed-down and any guy who came back asking if I needed a ride that I didn't need their help, which was actually quite nice. The bad thing about being the only white person in the entire Gare Routiere is that everyone sees you as a rich person who they can overcharge so they all rush to your help. The good thing about being the only white person in the Gare Routiere is that when you don't know what the person looks like who is supposed to be picking you up, they can easily recognize and find you. Two kids ran up to me and asked me if I was Shannon, and this was who I had been waiting for.

Amadou and Maggot (yes, those are the names of my two host siblings… yes, the poor girl's name is Maggot) brought me by taxi to their house. I am quite lucky because I now happen to live on one of the two paved roads in Kaolack and I live close to downtown, so it's easy to get around. However, this of course does not mean that my street is void of the trash that this city is known for. Oh no. A drainage type thing lines each side of the street and is filled with trash and what I'm sure is sewage. Yummy. It really is truly disgusting the amount of trash and sewage and whatnot (n'importe quoi) everywhere in this city.

Anyway, I arrived at my house. It looks like I'm living in ruins. Don't get me wrong, I do live in an actual house, and it's nice (relatively speaking), but behind the house looks like a building collapsed and they never did anything with it. There are broken cement pieces that cover the entire backyard. There also is one last standing wall of what used to be a very large and nice house, but now the rest is simply rubble. The house I live in has three rooms; well, technically two rooms but one of them is divided into two by a curtain. There is a porch that is open to outdoors, which is where Amadou works out and sometimes we eat meals and there are a few things stored there. You then walk into a door to the interior of the house, which is also my host mom's and sister's bedroom. In it there are two couches, a queen-sized bed, and a television. Across the curtain in the same room is another queen-sized bed where the boys sleep. From the first room, there is a door to a second room, that second room is mine. I have a king-sized bed, another bed that serves as a couch, a chair, and a huge dresser, plus two bedside tables. Through my room is a door to the bathroom which has the refrigerator, bathtub, and toilet. Needless to say, privacy is very limited, but honestly by now I'm pretty used to it. People walk in and out of my room, but usually just in passing, and that actually doesn't bother me one bit anymore. Houses here kinda make me sad, because they obviously looked a lot nicer when they were built. And they were built to have running water and electricity. There is no running water in this house, and my host mom brings buckets of water in every morning. And the electricity is very sparse. It worked last night, but not at all during the day. Houses everywhere here look kinda like people are living in the aftermath of a war. Windows are often just openings in cement with fabric over them. It's a bizarre thing to see. The paint in each room of my house here is well passed starting to peel off, both the walls and the ceiling. But, it's still very homey.

My host mother hardly speaks French. She speaks Wolof. Same with my 10 year old host sister. And I'm realizing that my basic Wolof that lets me talk to taxi drivers, haggle at the market, count, and greet people, only gets me so far. Basic vocabulary like "taking a shower" which were all rushed through during my last day of class did not at all stick in my memory. But the son who is here speaks French, so he's easy to communicate with. There is a nephew staying with us for the week who is a Baye-Fall who also speaks pretty good French, so I've been talking to the two of them a lot.

Last night I was taken around to meet all of the relatives. I'm sure I met over 30 people last night. This family which I have become a part of, the Dieng family, is one of the biggest in Kaolack. They are also in Thies and Dakar, so all sorts of people in this country know of them. My new name is Ada Dieng (pronounced "aye-duh", "aye" such as in "aye-aye captain"). I hardly remember anyone's names. I made a toddler cry last night, just because I'm white. That was a nice experience. He again refused to eat lunch outside today because I happened to be sitting outside. It feels good to be loved. The adults kept laughing about it, and I repeatedly was told that Senegalese children are afraid of white people. I never found this to be true in Dakar, but I am still one of only two white people I've seen in Kaolack since arriving.

I was supposed to start work yesterday, but because my new host family wanted to take me around and have me meet the whole family, it was postponed til today. This morning when I called my boss, I was told to wait until she called me back. Three hours later she called me back and gave me two numbers to call to get a hold of a girl who will show me what progress has been done on the library project. I repeatedly called the two numbers once an hour, and was told that she was somewhere else. At 4pm today I finally got a hold of my boss again, and she told me that I must just be missing the girl, and that she would tell the girl to call me and she hung up without giving me the girl's number. 15 minutes later she called back, told me that the girl had been looking for me, and gave me the girl's phone number. I tried it twice, it didn't work. I called my boss back again and she said she would verify the number. She called me back 5 minutes later and told me she had given me the wrong number and then gave me the correct one. So I finally called that, and was told that the girl was in the bathroom so I'd have to call back. 10 minutes later I called again, FINALLY got a hold of the girl, she asked me if I was in Kaolack. I said yes, and she said she would meet me at 8am tomorrow at the mosque. GAHHHHHHH. I've been bored all day. I spent time with the family and with the relatives, and they're all nice, but man, I'm going crazy. When I want to get started on something, I have no patience, and this is driving me nuts. At least now I know I'll actually have a purpose for being here tomorrow. So I'm a bit calmed down. But man, earlier today I was kinda losing my mind. I'm now wishing that I had borrowed more movies from my friends before coming, because I only borrowed one, and I already watched that last night. I could wander around and take pictures of the city, but today I really wanted to get something done, and wandering around wouldn't exactly give me a sense of accomplishment. So instead, I got my sense of accomplishment from reading Catch-22 (thank you Patrick, you helped save me from losing my mind today), and with each finished chapter I felt like I had done something.

Alright, enough of my rambling. A few other items to note about my living circumstances. Last night, as I unpacked my stuff, I heard a mouse. Sure enough, about 2 minutes later one scampered across the floor. Late this morning I was in the "main room" of the house watching television with the others when I saw a mouse run under my chair. I can tell if the electricity is working by the refrigerator… if it is chugging away making lots of noise, the electricity is working… if it is quiet, the electricity is not working. The toilet does not have a toilet seat, and I flush it the same way as I did in Dakar, by dumping a bucket of water into it. I take a "shower" by standing in the bathtub with a bucket of water. I was very spoiled the past few weeks with hot showers and electricity, but now it's back to normal.

I am quite lucky again though. The family I am staying with is as nice as can be, even if communication is a bit of an issue at the moment. Hadit, my host mother, is not much more than 30 years old, so she's like a sister. She's always smiling and laughing and gets a big kick out of me when I say things in Wolof. Earlier when I was writing one of the paragraphs above I was zoned out of my surroundings and focusing on my writing, when I realized that she had been calling my name "Ada! Ada!" I ran outside to see her sitting in a chair with her foot covered in blood and a knife with at least 10 inches of blade sitting beside her foot. I ran to get cotton balls and a bucket of water. When I brought it back and cleaned off her foot, it was better seen that the cut was actually quite small, but it had produced a lot of blood. We cleaned it up with iodine solution and put a Band-Aid on it. My first-aid kit was quite helpful. I'm still curious now, because when this happened her nephew was laying on the couch watching television in closer proximity to her, but she didn't call for him she called for me. And he didn't pay any attention as I crossed in front of him a few times with cotton balls and other first-aid type things.