Tiana: Toubacouta

I left my house at 6:30 to head to WARC on Friday morning.  The sun wasn’t awake yet, I was carrying 20 pounds of luggage, and I was extremely tired from writing a 5-page paper on the role of women in Senegalese society the night before.  Nevertheless, I felt really excited for the weekend ahead.

Let me just say, I haven’t had a really good pastry since I left Paris last summer.  So, when the MSID staff passed out croissants and pain au chocolat from La Brioche Dorée, I was absolutely elated!  They also passed around water, juice, apples, oranges, and bananas for breakfast! With full stomachs and fatigued smiles, we began our journey to Toubacouta.  And was it ever a bumpy one!  I was seated near the back of the bus along with Devyn, Britney, Kenta, Dylan, and a couple of others, so naturally we took the brunt of the bumps when our bus driver went off-roading through the Senegalese terrain.  It was fun for a while, but when you’re sleep-deprived and want a quick nap during a five and a half hour road trip…yeah…not so fun anymore!  It was, for the most part, a pleasant drive — We had a chance to see some of the various vistas of countryside, I got to listen to some good classical tunes, and yes, I did end up catching some z’s.

The fun really began when we arrived at our destination.  Our hotel was gorgeous: the rooms were actually individual huts decorated simply but luxuriously, the walkways were paved with seashells, the staff were beyond amiable, and there were flowers to boot.  It was a tropical paradise!  To our delight, the hotel was equipped with a pool and outdoor dining area, as well.  We drove in to the area, and you could hear variations of “Oh.  My.  Gosh!” for about five minutes.  Phillipe, a fifties or sixties French man and co-owner of the hotel, greeted us individually, and remarked quite often about my “beaux yeux bleus”…haha…he was very French!  We had a good period of time to relax, eat a delicious lunch before heading to the center of Toubacouta for a tour.

Our first stop was a courtesy visit to the village President’s office.  Waly mediated between French and Wolof, introducing us to the President in Wolof and translating the President’s Wolof welcome to us in French.  It seems that everywhere we go en groupe, someone comments about how many beautiful women are in the program, and this time was no exception!  The President noted the number of young women in the group and mentioned the need for more American women in the village!  The room erupted in laughter, we thanked the busy man for his time, and left for a walking tour of the village.  We passed shops, straw huts with thatched rooves, street musicians and vendors, a school and boarding house, beautiful flora and fauna, kind village folk, a nearby river, and all the while, I felt so thankful to be there, seeing things that not many people will ever have the opportunity to see, but things that have the capacity to change your life.

Shortly after our tour, we returned to the hotel, relaxed poolside for a bit, ate more delicious food, and crashed from fatigue.

Saturday began with an incredible breakfast — the best rolls ever accompanied by an array of jams, cheese, butter, and chocolate, café au lait, and fresh orange juice.  I ate way to much.  Then again, that’s a pretty common theme for me here…good thing we walk around so much!

After breakfast, we headed to the nearby mangroves for the morning.  Touring the delta area, we learned a bit about the uses and commerce of fish and oysters that are prevalent in the region.  We then set sail (kind of) for an excursion of the Saloum River.  If you’ve ever played Amazon Trail, you’ll understand the genre of experience that we had on the river. 

Tiana: Reflections of the first two weeks

Every day, I take notes in my journal about the occurrences of that 24-hour period.  Many of the stories that I’ve recorded over the past two weeks have already been shared, but I’ve composed a list of the anecdotes, observances, and other who-knows-whats that were left behind:

Observation Number 1: Height?  5’10”.  Age?  20.  Marital status?  Single.

Somehow, height, age, and perhaps even marital status seem to be correlated in the minds of several people that I have had the privilege of meeting.  Take Moiss, for example.  Moiss is a 29-year old that works across the street from my school.  While walking to WARC from the supermarket one fine day, Zawadi and I were called over for a brief conversation with him.  After basic introductions were made, the topic of relationships was addressed.  (Note: It seems that inquiring into your status in terms of personal relationships is about as common as asking how your day is going!)  Discovering that both Zawadi and I are single, Moiss proceeded to ask for a reason for said single status.  He mentioned that I, particularly, should be either in a relationship or married by now because of how tall I am.  Later in the week, I was asked my age, and truthfully responded, “Vingt ans”, 20-years old.  The inquiree’s reply was “Wow!  You’re tall for being so young!”  Both conversations were incredibly interesting, and both Moiss and the other were, of course, incredibly nice people, but such associations just struck me as odd!

Observation Number 2: If you’re open to them, they’re open to you – Not everyone is a creeper.

My eyes have been opened to the courage and resilience required to function as a minority in a society. Coming to Senegal, I was incredibly weary of practically everyone, paranoid almost to a fault.  Granted, there is a level of discernment needed when it comes to forming new acquaintances, but if you automatically assume the worst in someone or try to find ways to place them in the ex-communicate column, you’re going to miss out on a lot.  Enter Moustapha and The Man at the Shop Around the Corner (abbreviated: TMSAC).  Moustapha is my elderly neighbor.  One day, as I was leaving for class, I heard a man greet me with “Asalaa Maleekum”.  I was absolutely startled for a moment because I hadn’t seen him there, but as our conversation continued, I discovered he was harmless.  With broken English, he proclaimed, “Me, I thinks we should be friends.”  I agreed, and we’ve had a couple of brief conversations since.  Now TMSAC, he works at, you guessed it, the shop around the corner in relation to my school.  I often go to the little shop (which, quite honestly, looks quite unassuming and slightly dangerous upon initial inspection) to buy a giant bottle of Kirène purified water before school starts.  TMSAC is always there, and he is every bit the conversationist.  Knowing full well that I am learning Wolof at WARC, he one day pretended as if he knew no Wolof (although, of course, it is his native language!) and told me to teach him what I know!  I was able to recite the basic salutations and ask some basic questions, which he would respond to in fluent Wolof, and he offered an encouraging, “ça va venir”, “it will come” as I stepped out the door to head to class.  I love these kinds of conversations, and I’m very excited to participate in more as the semester continues!

Observation Number 3 : Life in a Senegalese community is just as wonderful as it seems from an outsider’s perspective.

I note this because, in a recent conversation with Maman, she mentioned that life with me in the house is no different than before I came.  “We haven’t changed anything!” she insisted.  They eat the same foods, pass their time the same way, interact in the same fashion, etc. and are allowing me to be a part of it!  Maman and I went on to discuss how beautiful the city is, how friendly people are, how much we love life here.  “People are always talking about the poverty,” she said, “Always focusing on what’s wrong, always concerning themselves with the problems and difficulties in Africa.  But we live comfortably, we live well, and we love it here.”  Despite the poverty, disease, and what have you that are absolute realities here and seem more grave than in the States, there is hope.  And everywhere I look, there is determination; there is someone who wants to make a difference, and that’s always where change starts, isn’t it?

Tiana: Hakuna Matata: it means “No Worries”

There is many a good thing to be said for the rhythm of life in Senegal.  It’s relaxed.  No rushing.  Almost completely devoid of any hints of stress, anxiety, worry, etc.  Last week, Waly told us, “Here, it’s you who control the time; the time doesn’t control you.” It’s very different than back in the States where we, or at least I, feel almost constantly “pressed for time”.  Like I have to be somewhere, do something, see someone, and if I’m not doing any of these three things, I’m somehow wasting my life.  Well, if “time is money”, I’ve learned here how much more valuable people, relationships, and experiences are than any kind of currency.

Sundays in my family are sleep-in days!  I found that after the Monday thru Saturday week of orientation, I definitely needed that extra sleep!  The grandkids were over for most of the day, and they proceeded to give me a French vocabulary refresher.  Doudou, my aforementioned little ‘husband’, had a batman mask and his sister was quizzing me on the anatomical features of the face.  She would tell me the French word, I would repeat it, and then I would test her on the English word.  We then sang, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” together (in English!), which she had learned at school!  So there I was, seated on the stoop just outside my house, with my adorable niece and nephew, sun shining above, neighbors and friends passing by the house and offering a kind Asalaa Maleekum…It reminded me of the Rascal Flatts song “Mayberry”, only in Africa!

And here’s yet another example of how amiable people are, and of how wonderful my family is: Bassirou, my big brother, spent a good 45 minutes trying to connect my itty-bitty computer to some kind of wireless network from home.  It worked for about five seconds, and then quit, and when we finally gave up, he said, “Well, you are now a part of this family, and in this family, we share everything, so if you ever do need to use my computer [because his connects to wireless from our house], you can use it when you need to.”  How nice is that!  Another thing I’m beginning to understand more profoundly here — true generosity, true selflessness.

Monday, class began.  But it certainly doesn’t feel like class when you’re sitting in a conference room at WARC, doors and windows open to allow the light breeze and the sound of rustling palm leaves in.  Our instructors are absolutely delightful, and the structure of the program is such that we, the students, can pseudo-dictate the topics of discussion in our classes, what lessons we want to do, etc.  Here is a brief breakdown of my coursework:

1) Country Analysis: Here we’ll be learning about the daily realities of Senegalese culture.  For example, on Thursday we went through a list of Wolof proverbs that serve as a basis for life here.  We’ll be talking about economy, traditional society, policy, ethnic groups, legends, etc, all to better inform us about the country and to allow us to better understand what we see every day.  This course also has a French component, where we’ll be intensively working on French communication, perhaps some grammar, but also some more pertinent, cultural information (e.g. on Thursday we learned about SMS French, or abbreviated French used in text messaging — bjr = bonjour!).

2) International Development: I have very little background in international development coursework.  Correction, I have zero background in international development.  This course, with it’s discussions and analyses of the definition of development, structural adjustment, the worldwide food crisis, etc. promises to be the most challenging for me, mostly because I’ve never before been very privy to economic or political strategy.  So far, it has been incredibly interesting to learn about!  This week, we took a look at Socialism as it applied to newly independent African countries back in the 60’s.

3) Wolof: For those who don’t know me, I have a colossal affinity for learning languages!  I loved learning Spanish back in high school, I’ve loved learning French and Russian, and I love learning Wolof!  It’s been a little bit tough to start a language from absolute scratch, but I know it will come.  We worked on salutations and some grammar this week, and goodness knows I can’t wait to continue.  It’s a lot of fun to learn a different language (Wolof) when the language of instruction is already in a foreign language (French)!

4) Public Health and Social Services: I haven’t yet had this class, our instructor was ill on Monday, but I’m so excited for it!  It seems to offer a introduction to the practice and structure of health and social service systems here, a critique on access to healthcare, an overview of infectious and tropical diseases, nutrition issues, and reproductive health — It seems just perfect!

5) INTERNSHIP and Research Methodology!: This is what I am supercallifragilistically excited for!  I went in to talk with Waly about my internship placement on Thursday, and had no idea that they’d have such a perfect match to cater to my interest in pediatrics and global health!  From mid-March to early May, I will be working at the Centre de Pédiatrie Sociale de Joal, the Center for Social Pediatrics in the beautiful, costal city of Joal, Senegal!  I am so excited and so thankful!  I don’t even know specifically what I’ll be doing yet aside from passively observing a bit, but it will most certainly be another wonderful chapter in this adventure!  Before the internship segment of the program, we’ll have a course in research methodology to build our research skills and prepare us for communication and interaction with the community at our internship sites.

This week in class, we covered everything from Socialism in post-independence Africa to salutations and ways to present yourself and others in the Wolof langauge to an analysis of Senegalese proverbs to a review of animal vocabulary in French, with several trips to the beach distributed between classes.  It’s cool to be learning so much and confronting so many obstacles and challenges here while still feeling so worry-free.  As they say in the Lion King, Hakuna Matata!

Tiana: Ndànk-ndànk mooy jàpp golo ci ñaay: Things take time

Literally translated, the above sentence reads “Little by little one catches the monkey in the bush.”  The essence of this Wolof proverb highlights two virtues that I’ve had to cling to with my entire being during this transition — patience (in making mistakes and learning from them, in integrating as much as possible into this society) and hope (that ça viendra, it will all come together in time).

Our first week here ended in memorable fashion (then again, what isn‘t memorable these days?  ).  With the amount that I’ve learned so far, it seems as if I’ve been here for months,  not days.  On Thursday, I walked to WARC with Elisa, a student from Mount Holyoke who lives about a minute’s walk from my house.  We aren’t in the same program, but we study at the same school — It’s so nice to be making new friends here!  That morning at the center, us MSID-ers watched the Senegalese film Bamako, which addresses the issues of globalization and development by recounting a trial between the World Bank and the people of a Senegalese village.  After the powerful movie, we discussed the main themes, and our discussion ended with the question, “What is the solution to the problems and inequalities currently plaguing the process of globalization?”  Wow.  It’s a big question, and part of me feels like there is no possible answer because the topic is so multi-faceted, but it was really cool to debate about it within our group.  It’s interesting how even just taking the time to talk about something makes you feel even one step closer to helping make a difference.

Friday was quite low-key.  We went to WARC and got our syllabus for the semester (and my goodness, is it a busy one!), took our lunch, and held a question and answer session about the first few days in Senegalese family life.

I absolutely love my Senegalese family.  I can already tell that I am going to miss them when it’s time to go home in May.  There is no way that they replace my God-given family, mind you, but I know that they’re already taking their place in my life.  Every day, it seems that they get more and more used to me and I get more and more used to them — I love it!  We laugh together a lot, and a lot of the time it’s because of something ridiculous that I say or do, but it’s always in good fun!  I think mealtimes are my favorite, first because we always eat dinner together as a family, with up to seven or eight people at a time sharing one giant plate of deliciousness, and second because that’s where a lot of the laughter happens.  What I love about laughter is how universal it is, how the joy that it springs from isn’t limited or restricted and how it can be understood no matter what language you speak, no matter where you come from.  This family reminds me a lot of my family back home.  It’s obvious how much they love, respect, and enjoy one another, and it’s a beautiful and incredible honor to be a part of it.

Now Saturday. Saturday was probably my favorite day so far!  We toured Dakar, the capital of Senegal in which we live, which is located within the borders of a peninsula that is surrounded on three sides by the Atlantic Ocean.  This is such a gorgeous city!!!  Our first stop was La Porte des Millières, constructed in the year 2000 to herald the new millennium and the beginning of a new regime.  From the cliff that we stood upon, we faced the ocean and could see l’Ile de Madeleine, an uninhabited island, in the distance.  To our left was a stunning, sandy beach where some people were swimming and the waves were pounding the rocks and shore.  We hopped back on the bus and went to the next stop, the Presidential Palace.

It’s a stunning building, really, and quite similar to America’s White House, with a vast expanse of grass and rows upon rows of palms and other beautiful trees.  We were able to take a picture with the soldier guarding the gate — I stood directly to his left, and it turns out that the gun slung across his shoulder was pointed directly at my temple!

Our next stop was my absolute favorite spot of the visit, and probably will end up being one of my favorite places in the entire world.  When we first arrived, the view was rather unassuming and desolate; it was an ex-military bunker now inhabited by struggling country folk and artists who can’t afford to live in the city.  But a small jaunt from the bunker towards the ocean gave way to a breathtaking sight.  And when I say breathtaking, I mean it literally takes your breath away.  I heard the waves crashing before I saw the view.  We reached an outlook perched on a cliff, looked down, and saw a small, rocky inlet where gigantic waves were crashing in.  The inlet was surround by tall, vertical stone columns and opened only to the ocean that fed it with the great waves.  Walking down the pathway, we came to the edge of another cliff, below which was a calm, shallow tide pool the teal color of a peacock’s feathers, which was surrounded by bright, sky blue, rolling ocean waves.  There was a Senegalese man who had scaled down the cliff and was sitting, almost out of sight, below us.  I caught his eye and waved, receiving a bright smile in return.  I could sit entranced on that cliff all day and never become bored or under whelmed.  The ocean stretched so far and wide, I swear I could see the curvature of the earth!

After reluctantly leaving the military encampment, we visited La Regie des Chemins de Fer du Sénégal, the train station, which was just en face de La Place des Tirailleurs, a monument dedicated to fighters from the World Wars.  Next on the agenda was the Pointe des Almadies, another stunning beach, with incredible seashells of all shapes and sizes, which was on the coastline of a charming little village.  The Phare des Mamelles, a lighthouse, followed.  It’s situated at such a high elevation that you can see for miles, looking down over the city and the water, being nearly blown over from exposure to the strong winds.  We mounted the winding stairs to the tippy top of the structure (and I nearly collapsed with fear, realizing for the first time in my life that I just may be quite weary when it comes to heights), where we got to see the giant mirror that rotates within the lighthouse, reflecting light and serving as a beacon for boats and planes alike that approach the peninsula.

We also saw one of the mammoth light bulbs that they use; it is seriously bigger than a grown person’s head!  The Monument de la Renaissance (a highly controversial and politically charged topic in Senegalese society today) and La Mosquée de la Divinité (which stood facing another gorgeous stretch of beach and ocean) were our final two stops, and we returned to WARC for lunch (I ate Hawaiian pizza!).

The tour helped to introduce us to a new level of understanding in terms of this society.  On one side of the street, you’ll see stretches of incredible, intricate villas with lush gardens in the lawn, foreign sports cars in the garage, and guards at the entrance, while on the other side of the street you can see what looks like a slum.  The contrast is vast, and I began to feel a level of frustration with, well, with I don’t quite know what yet.  When I look at this city, I see nothing but charm and beauty, despite the extreme poverty within.  I ask myself — why is there so much poverty, why isn’t this beautiful place more popular with tourists, why do construction workers have only hard hats as safety equipment, why, why, why?  Are there even concrete answers?

Later Saturday evening, a new friend, Anta, who lives just down the street from my house, showed me around the neighborhood and answered some of my questions.  It was late and dark outside, but it was still good to see some of the surroundings — She showed me several supermarkets and places to eat, as well as the easiest way to the nearby beach.  I was then introduced to her husband, brothers, and some friends and then we walked the short distance back to my house.  Anta is so nice and she was extremely patient in explaining and repeating things that I didn’t understand.  Everyone seems to be that way: incredibly kind and altogether helpful.

One final piece of news is that I have now been given a Senegalese name!  Maman chose it for me, with the help of my sister, Mariama.  Alors, je m’appelle Xadijaa (pronounced ha-dee-jah).  Xadi for short.  I like it!

Well, we’ve had a full week of warm sunshine, more than enough to send back to Minnesota, so that’s what I’m doing right now — Sending smiles and sunshine your way!

Tiana: Gorée Island, charm of the tropics

Gorée Island, a small landmass just off the southeastern coast of Dakar and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was once a principal stop on the slave trade route.  Chosen for its proximity to major western ports in Louisiana, Haiti, Brazil, etc, millions of slaves were forced through the door of no return at the large maison d‘esclaves, the slave house, and packed onto ships bound for the Americas.  We had the opportunity to visit this island and the maison d‘esclaves on Wednesday, and it was an incredible experience, to say the least.  Not only was it a profound reminder of the atrocities of the past and an insightful lesson in terms of Africa’s history, Gorée also boasted the most picturesque scenery fathomable.  Vast areas filled with palm trees, large, panoramic vistas of the ocean, narrow paths lined by colorful buildings and bright flowers, not to mention a number of fascinating baobab trees.  It’s no wonder Gorée is such a popular tourist destination, with such an intricate conjugation of history and charm.

After touring la maison d‘esclaves, we visited the Henriette Bethily museum, an exhibit acknowledging the numerous roles of women in society.  Madame Bethily was a formidable advocate for women’s rights, and when she passed away, the museum was named after her as a token of appreciation for her life’s work.  A small aside — It was at this museum that I had a small health scare.  Note to self and others who may visit the tropics, drink more water than you think you have to, otherwise you will pass out from the intense heat.  Adji and a couple of the women at the museum were extremely helpful in making sure I was alright; many thanks to them!

Our tour then extended to Le Castel, the highest point on Gorée Island, where there stands a large memorial honoring the slaves taken from their homes and forced into a life of suffering.  Next to the memorial is a bunker that used to be used by colonial armies when they inhabited the island.  Down in the bunker, we met a man who makes incredible works of art from different types of sand found throughout Africa in countries like Burkina Faso, Benin, and of course, Senegal.  He uses sap from the baobab tree as glue, and works in layers in order to create dimension in his works.

For lunch, we went to a gorgeous little restaurant on the island where we sat and relaxed for around an hour and a half.  I ate a salad with carrots, corn, peas, avocado, grapefruit, and cantaloupe (yum!), followed by chicken and white rice, and finally coffee.  It was a wonderful meal, and a great chance to get to know other students in the program a little better.

Orientation then continued on the beach.  We sat on rocks right by the ocean, as the waves came in and barely missed our feet, and talked about some more logistical information.  Then we had about thirty minutes to explore!  Cameras in hand, we all dispersed a little bit, so I made my way to the sandy beach with Laura and Zawadi, two fellow MSID-ers.  Removing my sandals, I walked into the ocean and just stood there for a few minutes, taking it all in.  There was a European man playing his guitar in the background, which added to the utopian ambiance all the more.  Laura, Zawadi, Julia, and I then walked to the edge of a stone pier where Kenta was befriending a local fisherman, François Sanchez.  We chatted with him a little bit in French, and he was so nice!  He had just caught a flying fish!

The gorgeous day ended with a relaxing boat ride back to Dakar and my first experience in a Senegalese taxi.  Let me just say…wow!  Driving here is absolutely insane!  It was a little scary because our driver’s windshield was cracked from top to bottom and from side to side; I have no idea how he saw beyond the glass, but I suppose that was a part of the thrill.

I then met two girls at WARC from a different program who also live in my neighborhood, (Mermoz) and who I began walking home with.  Matar met us half-way because I couldn’t remember exactly where my house is, but I think I’m starting to get the hang of the streets here.  The walk between home and the WARC is somewhere between twenty and thirty minutes, and with such beautiful days in store, I know I’ll be walking to and fro quite a bit!

In other news, I am beginning to think and even dream more in French!  I’ve been speaking it so much, I think it’s beginning to become second nature.  As encouraging as this is, I know that I still have a lot to learn and that it won’t be easy, but I’m very excited to continue working on it!  I also can’t wait to learn Wolof, which is the language that my family speaks the most often.  They do speak French, but I sometimes feel like it’s inconvenient for them to keep translating things between the two languages.  I now know a few Wolof greetings rather well, and we’ll be starting Wolof courses as early as next Monday, so we’ll see how everything goes.  Outside of the language realm, I’m also hoping to learn more about soccer while I’m here.  I’ve seen a number of people playing it, I watched a game on TV today with some friends and family, and I know that it’s integral to this culture, but I’ve never really taken an interest in soccer in the States.  Perhaps now is the time?

One final note. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned this before, but here is another source of discomfort for me: time here is so relaxed and so fluid, and there is often nothing to do.  For those of you who know me well, you know that I am a professional busybody, and that I must always be doing something.  It’s going to take some time to learn that sometimes, doing what I might consider nothing is doing something, and there is nothing wrong with that.  This experience is going to teach me a lot about truly slowing down, being patient, taking things as they come, and enjoying life, all while still working hard to learn as much as possible.  Let the juggling lessons begin!

Tiana: Families are like Fudge — Mostly Sweet with a few Nuts: Ma Deuxième Famille

Day two began with a trip to the bank to exchange dollars for CFAs, our first visit to WARC (the West African Research Center, where we’ll be studying) where we bought our new cell phones, ate lunch, and met students from other programs Then we were taken to our respective host families.  The third of these events is the highlight of this post.

In a word, my family is génial, great!  Coming in, I was as nervous as could be and as awkward as ever.  Will they like me?  Will I like them?  What do I say?  How do I act?  Who’s who?  What’s that?  Where am I?  All questions that were playing in fast forward and on repeat in my brain.  It’s my first night here, and I still feel a little mal à l’aise, but I have been placed in a wonderful family.  Maman is kind, gentle, helpful, and is constantly making sure that my room is to my liking, that the food is pleasing, that I feel welcome.  Even more than this, she’s reminded me multiple times today that this truly is my home, and that she hopes that I, too, consider it as such.  I have secured a contract with Matar, who I believe is related to my host family in some way: he is going to help me improve my French and learn Wolof and I am going to help him improve his English!  Even today, he and Maman helped me with my pronunciation and comprehension of several Wolof greetings.  Also, there’s a little boy (whom I believe is my sister‘s son) who has claimed me as his wife!  I know his name, but I don’t know how to spell it, so once I do, I’ll let you know.  I met so many family members and friends today, old, young, brothers, sisters, grandchildren, cousins, uncles, friends, all willing to give a large smile, a ça va, and a warm bienvenue!  I am so thankful to be here!

I am the first student to stay with this family.  Maman has lived in this neighborhood, Mermoz, for thirty years and has been building this villa for several of those years.  She never had a room to offer to a foreign student until this semester.  She is a widow with eight children, three sons (one of whom has, sadly, passed away) and five daughters (of whom two are currently in France).

The villa is wonderful!  Upon entry, one walks down a long hallway and can either mount the flight of winding stairs or stand in the open-air foyer space.  The living area is nicely decorated, with black leather couches, a glass coffee table, and a television.  My bedroom is on the second level, or the première étage, and has everything I need: a desk, a bed, and a large wardrobe.  The bathroom is just a few steps from my door.  The showers are cold, but I know that I can get used to that sans problème.

I’ve found it exhausting to be so constantly speaking French the past two days.  It’s also very rewarding.  Not only have my listening and speaking skills been challenged, it seems they’ve also improved tremendously, even in just 48 hours.  I was nervous, having skipped French this past semester, that I would not be able to communicate, but I don’t think I am doing as horribly as I anticipated.  Matar says I speak very well, and that he initially thought that I was French because of my accent!  That was such an encouraging compliment, and put me at ease a little bit in terms of language usage.

Despite how welcome I feel, how much I already love what Maman calls my “second family”, and how much I am enjoying the challenge of integrating myself into this culture, I am also (as mentioned before) somewhat ill at ease.  This is, I believe, just an inevitable and transient consequence of my journey to this very different setting, and I know that, but as much as I know I need to learn what I’m learning about living here by trial and error, by asking a zillion questions, and by putting myself in challenging situations, a part of me wishes that I could skip this introductory process.  I hope that, in my time here, I can find as many ways as possible express my appreciation for what they have sacrificed to allow me to stay with them.

A brief FYI:  In my second post, I mentioned that I expected cohabitation with different insect species than I am accustomed to during my stay here.  Enter Hector, the large cockroach that sure seems to enjoy wandering about my bedroom.  Yes, I named a cockroach, but only because I thought it would make me less afraid of him if I personalized his existence a bit.  Alas, my efforts were in vain.  I am still afraid of him, even though he’s much smaller than me in comparison, and I have no idea what to do or where he is!  Do you think they have exterminators here?  There’s also a fly that is always up and about in my room.  I should probably name him, too…

Tiana: MSID Beginnings

We arrived at the airport at around 6 in the morning — oomph!  And while it felt like we should all be going to a hotel and sleeping for a good 12 hours, we knew that we had one long day ahead of us. Who knew that it would be one of the most exhausting, exhilarating days of my life?

Going through customs at the airport was the first test of our French skills.  I failed miserably.  Not in terms of language usage, but rather in terms of composure and presentation.  I fumbled and bumbled my way through the brief conversation, and thankfully made it through the queue with only my pride wounded.  It’s disconcerting and altogether humbling to feel like you know so much, only to realize that you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do.  That realization, when combined with the raw emotions and nerves described in the last post, yields a bittersweet concoction.

Baggage in tow, us MSID-ers headed outside the airport to find our contact (if I haven‘t mentioned it before, MSID means “Minnesota Studies in International Development“.  Because our flight was not to land until around 6:55, we had a bit of waiting to do.  In the meantime, we observed.  The first thing I noticed was a temperature decidedly warmer than that of the city I left behind, Minneapolis.  Next I noticed the PALM TREE situated just outside the airport and two lit Christmas trees outside of a building to the right.  (For future reference, I am nearly obsessed with palm trees; so, if I mention them frequently, you now know why.)  Everything I was seeing was different than anything I’d ever seen, but was so similar at the same time.  Waly, Adji, and Awa, three of the program’s go-to contacts picked us up and drove us to a nearby hotel.  We unloaded, moved into our rooms (which were, in a word, idyllic — we opened the windows and were welcomed to Senegal by the sound of a rooster crowing in alarm, just like in a movie!), and had about three and a half hours of free time before we were to be picked up.  Thus, a wonderful croissant and tea breakfast was in order, followed by a spontaneous walking excursion through the neighborhood.

What I have seen of this country is truly incredible.  There is something beautiful in everything around you, and there is also often something that tugs on the heart strings.  A ruined building with a vibrant, colorful personality.  A poor, hungry child with a glimmering smile.  Every second that I spend here serves as confirmation that this experience is going to change my life.

At 12:30, we were picked up and driven a short distance to a nearby villa.  Walking through the villa to the roof, we saw a large, canopied area with mats on the ground and a stunning vista to the left.  The view from the roof included a forest of palm trees, a nearby mosque, and the ocean just behind it all.  Orientation began with each student dressing in an authentic garment (for the females, sarongs), sitting, and listening to some logistical information delivered by Waly and Adji.  Waly was wrapping up the introduction when he explained that dance is a critical part of Senegalese culture.  He put on some music, and we started learning some basic steps!  It was extremely awkward, and we were all hesitant at first, but we soon began to loosen up and move with the beat.  The music was really neat!  I definitely plan on investing in some to bring home with me!

Dancing was followed by lunch.  We ate ceebu jen, rice and fish with vegetables, the traditional plate of Senegal!  It was DELICIOUS!  The technique at meals is unlike anything we’re ever allowed to do in the States — Four giant plates of food were prepared, and four people shared one plate.  We sat on the floor and ate with only our right hands, according to Senegalese tradition.  La sieste, a period of rest, followed lunch.  We all laid down on our backs on the roof of that villa, some staring at the blue canopy and the even bluer sky above, and some (well, make that most) drifting off to sleep for a brief nap.  It was one of the first moments where I began to realize…I am really here.

After la sieste, we participated in a Senegalese tea ritual, ataya.  Green tea is prepared very meticulously (the tea must be moussed, or foamy at the surface) and served in small glasses in three separate servings.  The first serving is extremely strong.  The second, slightly less strong.  And the third, even less strong than the first two.  Ataya can sometimes take up to two hours because the goal is to really engage in conversation with the people surrounding you.  So much of this culture seems to center around being connected with others.  I love that!

Three more hours of orientation, including a discussion on host-family etiquette, gave way to a long walk through the Yoff neighborhood north of Grand Dakar, including stops at the beach and the fish market.  Huge ocean waves crashing into the rocks…ahhh…I could never tire of that sight, nor the sounds that accompany it.  The fish market was single-handedly the most colorful place I ever have seen.  Hundreds and hundreds of boats of hundreds and hundreds of colors were on shore while hundreds and hundreds of people gathered there to trade, play futbol (aka — soccer!),  watch the ocean, stare at the toubabs (us foreigners), etc.  While it felt like we were as conspicuous as floats at the Thanksgiving Day parade, it was an insightful excursion, revealing more of how this society works, and I ended the day with far more questions than answers.  This, I’ve decided, is a good thing.

After our refreshing walk, we returned to the villa for a dinner of French fries, chicken, and bread, after which we returned in a food coma to the hotel and absolutely crashed.  I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep so fast in my entire life!

Day one was complete.  With the amount that we learned and saw and did, it felt like we’d been here an entire week already!

Hoping all is well back in the States!

Claire: Nafeeyoh

which means whats up in sererre.

Don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to drop a line to say hello and that I’m doing fine. I cant really go on about all I’ve been up to, I’ll just tell you its of course gotten better each day. There are still plenty of times when I want to shut myself up in my room, click my heels three times and repeat theres no place like home over and over again (exhibit a: i have almost finished reading Anna Karenina) but of course I don’t (too much).

I’ve started trying to learn the dances which are really hard but REALLY fun, especially when its a big group of women dancing and yelling and laughing around a big circle. most of the times we dance to the beat of someone drumming on a bucket or big metal bowl, those are my favorite. Last night we threw a party for a baby that was just born in my family, the tradition here is to wait a week to name the baby and then throw a big party once the baby is named by a huddle of the men in the village. After dark one woman grabbed a bowl, one woman grabbed a bucket and the rest of us danced our life away, even my mom!!! I, of course, suck but they encourage me anyway. I signed up for another african dance class in the spring so I hope to learn some moves to show off by then.

Next week is Tabaski, which is a lot like Korite but we dress up and kill a sheep instead of dressing up and eating laax. I bought my outfit today and it is fancy shmancy; my sister said she is also bringing me to a soiree that night where there will be lots of young people and lots of dancing. eep.

Also, i must say this, last week I ate rat liver. Yes your eyes did not decieve you. We found a rat, we cooked it, we ate it and let me tell you it actually tasted just like chicken. Who knew?

Today im in Thies where my mom is from staying with her family. I went to the market this morning and then got to meet up with some friends which was awe.some.

It’s not so hard to be here now because of stress or difficulties acclimating. That’s still hard sometimes, but really the hardest part is just missing home, knowing that it’s so close but yet so far. It’s not that I’m terribly homesick, it’s just that it’s been such a long time since I saw everyone that it’s hard knowing there are a mere three weeks left and there’s nothing I can do to make the time go faster. I keep reminding myself tho that those weeks will be over before I know it and that when it’s over I’ll miss it, miss the people, miss the food, miss the adventure.

Claire: ndank ndank

well here i am on weekend number TWO and happy to report i am doing much better.

i dont have much time to blog, im at a hotel in Joal, a touristy and pretty town on the beach, visiting my friend emma for her birthday. theres a computer i can use but its 1:15 am here so i have to be quick.

this past week has been nothing but a continuation of the rollar coaster but i, at last thank the lord in heaven, am starting to feel more comfortable here. i even starting feeling really glad to be here and let me tell you, the first thought i had was What a freakin relief!

this past week i worked and came home from work like clockwork and then proceeded each day to stand around and ask over and over if i could help with something. its gotten better gradually, as i learn how to do more to help, WHAT i can do to help and when i can just go relax and stop stressing. i wouldnt say im at all stress free at home but i feel like im slowly integrating into the daily life more and more.

i got a major help from the most unusual of places: my SECOND mom came home. thats right, my dad has two wives; one who i live with in tattaguine and one in thies where, i guess, he spends most of his time. this past monday she came down to tattaguine to accompany him to thies. well this made my mom so much happier, when hes here he just bosses her around the entire time. im starting to think she may even like me, she called me here daughter the other day and my heart just SWELLED with joy.

work is pretty boring, but that could be worse. altho it feels like im just working at a bank i imagine that im actually learning more about the interworkings of microfinance than im aware of right now.

what else…

well today i saw the biggest baobob tree in senegal, and possibly in africa. it was 32 metres in circumfrance and 850 yrs old. it was the size of a house, we actually climbed inside!

well i better be off to bed; ill try to blog again before i leave.

Eben: I am here

In Wolof, the first question asked when meeting or running into someone is “Nanga def?” which essentially translates to “How are you doing?”  The proper response is “Maangi fi,” or “I am here.”  This seems particularly appropriate given that I am, in fact, now here at my internship site, Ngaye Mekhe. After exchanging parting gifts with my family on Tuesday night — I gave them T-shirts, they gave me doughnuts and chocolate spread — I woke up the next morning at 5:30 to begin the next phase of my time here.  I hauled the entirety of my current belongings to school for our 7 am departure at 7:30 am. (This was still more on time than expected.)  After driving in our bus northeast for a few hours and dropping off Jasper and Lisa, we arrived in Mekhe around midday. Waly threw my bags at me off the top of the bus and left me at my family’s doorstep with a wave and a smile.  (Once again I find myself lying. We actually went to my internship site first to meet my supervisor and chat for a half hour or so about my work, and then I went to see where my friend Trina was staying before being left at my new house after a lengthy introduction from Waly.)

The family has been great. Unlike Trina’s new family and much of the rest of the town, they all speak very good French to complement their Wolof and Pulaar, another local language.  The father, Pa Diop, works for a local microfinance organization (different from mine), and the mother, Ma Sow, just opened a small boutique selling printed fabrics and assorted household items.  Pa Diop has a pretty sober demeanor and gives off a general vibe of seriousness, but after a couple days I would no longer describe him exclusively as such.  He’s very interested in my opinions on American and international politics and loves giving advice to his kids.  In news from the Irrelevant Details Bureau, he’s pretty short.  Ma Sow is not.  She’s unbelievably nice (to be fair, I believe it, but she’s nice nonetheless), and so she calls me “my son” and reminds me from time to time how happy she is that I’m here.  I now have a new Senegalese name, Yoro, which she chose for me within 20 minutes of my arrival.  (It’s a Peul name, since she comes from the Toucouleur ethnic group, which is part of the Peul tribe.)

Then the kids, of which there are nine as of my last count.  Some are children of Pa Diop and Ma Sow, while others are nieces and nephews here for unexplained reasons.  I repeatedly forgot all their names the first day, prompting me finally to pass around a notebook and make them write their names down after many jokes at my expense about my memory.  Save for the 5-year old, Adama, they all speak good French and love talking.  But although Adama is the only one I can’t really communicate with, he’s the one who likes having me there the most.  He ran in the door on the first day when he saw me sitting in front of the TV, and he tends to break into dance in front of me whenever any music is on.  I think he’ll be great for my nascent Wolof abilities, as he often tries to speak to me in Wolof and there are tons of natural translators around the house.  There’s a 19-year old, Demba, who is soft-spoken but quite smart and easy to talk to, and the one I talk to most is 10-year old Cheikh Tidiane, who has endless stories about the past Americans who have stayed with the family.

The house is roughly what I expected, with a few minor differences.  Like most houses here, it’s quite open-air, but most of the house is covered instead of being open to the sky.  The main area is defined by relatively dilapidated concrete flooring and walls, and it includes, of course, a TV set.  I have my own nicely-sized room directly off the main area, and otherwise inside on the first floor there is a boys’ room, a girls’ room, parents’ bedroom, and an unused living room.  (It all sounds bigger than it actually is.)  Then outside is a kitchen, a toilet hole, and a shower.  Finally, the roof is used as a petting zoo for the pet rabbits and pigeons.  The pigeons stay up there, but the rabbits love wandering around the house, often going into my room to hide under the bed.  The kids bring their mattresses up to sleep on the roof with the animals now that the rainy season is done.

I may have made the house sound somewhat simple, but the family is far from poor village folk or anything like that.  There are two computers in the house, one in the parents’ bedroom for Pa Diop to use the internet and the other in the boys’ bedroom for them to play computer games.  We get more TV channels than at my house in Dakar, since there is cable at this house.  And like the Mendy family, everyone speaks French, the parents are well-educated, and the kids aspire to go to college.

More so than the Mendy family, though, the Diops very much engage in the “typical” Senegalese manner of interpersonal interaction.  Every family member who enters the house shakes everyone’s hand upon arrival, so Pa Diop shakes his sons’ and daughters’ hands multiple times daily, which is pretty foreign to me.  A few minutes of every conversation are taken up by greetings, which usually consist of the same question asked multiple times by both parties, with full knowledge of the answer to come.  In French or Wolof:

“How’s it going?”
“It’s going, it’s going.  How’s it going for you?”
“It’s going well.  So how’s it going?”
“It’s going well, it’s going well.  How’s the heat?”
“Oh, it’s going a little, but it’s hot.”
“Yes, it’s always hot here.  And your day?”
“It’s going, it’s going.  Yours?”
“It’s going well.”

And so on, until perhaps you start talking about whatever it is that you wanted to talk about, or the conversation might be over after this exchange.  You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to answer these questions by indicating that something is not going.