I just spent six nights in Kedagou, another region here in
Southern Senegal, for a language seminar. About a month after install everyone
meets up with a few people from their class, who also learned the same language
during training, to answer any questions that may have come up regarding
language during our first stint at site; many volunteers find it to be more of
a review.
Since language seminar is more relaxed than actual PST we
had plenty of free time. Something that volunteers tend to do a lot in their
free time, especially while at regional houses where there is the luxury of a
stove and oven, is cook. We made a good combo of foods from all around the world.
One of the foods that I made, and was very proud of, was boiled peanuts.
Considering my cooking abilities I was surprisingly shocked on how they turned
out. Peanuts are in season here, and like all foods that are in season, you
tend to feel like you are overdosing. Since I couldn’t think about eating any
more roasted peanuts, looking for another texture, I remembered my mom boiling
peanuts as sort of a treat. They tasted just as good as I remember.
To take up some time Diane, Anthony, Kyle and I decided to
bike to a waterfall that is about 5km (about three miles) from Kyle’s village.
Considering we were about 25km (about 15.5 miles) from Kyle’s village in the
first place this was just the thing to take up a good part of the day. Our
language teacher is not much of the outdoors type so she decided to catch a
ride with one of the house’s security guards on his motorcycle. The bike ride
took us about 2.5 hours to get there and it was quite the ride. 25 miles is a
good distance on a bike in the states but considering we are in Africa it’s a
hell of a hike. We are riding in the rainy season which means, even though it’s
not raining, the roads consist of mud and potholes filled with water. Have you
ever tried biking in wet mud/sand? It’s hard to say the least. We were all
champs and I think I did pretty well keeping up with the pack considering I
have never biked that far at once in my life. Once we got to the closest village
to the waterfall we devoured an omelet baguette sandwich and then started our
45-minute hike into the forest. This is something that I was more used to; it
reminded me of a lot of the hikes that I used to do in Hawaii. After passing streams where women
washed cloths, trees where orangutans howled, and paths where centipedes were
making themselves known we reached the waterfall at last. It was a long day but
well worth the trip. Kyle told us that apparently the waterfall we were at,
Dindefello, is taller than Niagra Falls; not nearly the width which made it
appear to be smaller but in fact it was taller. We swam in the cold water, not
as cold as I remember Hawaii’s waterfall swimming holes to be, and lay out of
the rocks. It was a nice break from the Senegal that we were more familiar
with.
We were reassured that there would be a car waiting in the
village; they leave regularly from this spot considering it is mildly touristy.
I am not sure why I believed a small village 25k off a main road would have
cars that leave regularly but needless to say, it didn’t. Diane and Anthony
said they would bike back to Kedagou if it was the only option while I said
that I would be willing to try ANY other option, ie sleeping at Kyle’s until the
morning when there is a car. By a stroke of luck another local NGO, AfriCare,
would be riding through Kyle’s village a couple hours later and going straight
to Kedagou. We took the ride. Four grown adults in the back of a pickup; air conditioning
blasting (almost too cold but I was not about to complain), smelling like we
have been biking and hiking all day while our heads are filled with a hint of motion
sickness from dodging potholes, but we made it just as it was beginning to get dark.
Once we were home, showered, and fed, I can honestly look back on the day and
say it was great.
I am not sure if I developed sensitivity to dairy or had a
stint of bad luck but I believe the strawberry milk that I indulged in the
following night was trying to end my life. I was tired from the day before, and
looking forward to continue my book by Bill Clinton called Giving, so I went to bed early after drinking strawberry milk, made
of whole milk, with dinner. Upon falling asleep I was awaken a couple of hours
later with stomach pains worse than I have ever had in my life. The stomach
pains were accompanied by bowel movements, no details needed, and this went on all night. There was no
sleeping, just laying, staring at the ceiling trying to convince myself to fall
asleep. I would get up to grab water, though I didn’t want to drink much
because it would just make me have to go to the bathroom even more than I
already had to. While getting water the smell of the kitchen would make me
nauseous so I would lie down in the hammocks, then I would get cold and move
inside, to then be interrupted into going to the bathroom again. This rotation
happened about four times in the night resulting in about three hours of sleep.
The five-hour car ride back home, not including waiting time for public
transportation that ended up totaling eight hours, seemed longer than it
already was. I am only sticking with fake dairy from now on, if any.
Diane and I caught a ride with a Peace Corps car to
Tambacounda, which not only saved us about 3000CFA each but also eliminated
having to squish in a septplace, listening to locals screaming in foreign
languages, and the occasional smack on the head as a result of fans being
waved. We were dropped off at the garage, what the public transportation depot
is known as, and waited over two hours four our septplace to Velingara to sell
all seven tickets. We passed the time with some quality people watching,
drinking over sweetened juice slushy’s, eating omelet and baguette sandwiches
and watching men sell car tickets as they make tea and clearly worry free that
our car is going nowhere fast.
Finally reaching Velingara, after the longest 24 hours of my
life, Diane told me it was not necessary to wait for her bus that takes her to
her village; I was glad she told me to go home. I usually wait at the garage to
make sure that 1-there is a bus for her 2-she gets on it and 3- it actually
leaves town, since there is not much I can do once it leaves town, but today I
could barley keep my eyes open after the night I had and the prolonged day of
waiting for public transportation. I ran home, put on a smile for my family
since I didn’t want to explain why I was so tired, took a bath and called it a
night. Sure it was only 5pm but I blamed it on my long trip from Kedagou and I
went straight to bed. I woke up for a couple hour rally at 1am to watch Its Complicated (good movie by the way),
not feeling the best but better, and didn’t wake up again until 9:30am. The
sleep and water was all I needed to feel back to normal. Alhamdillilah.
It had been a while since mom and dad said they sent their
package so I decided once I woke up from my coma that I would rush to the Post
Office. Sure enough there was a package for a Kelly Blodge, I just assumed that
it was for me. I paid the 1000CFA to get it, a customs fee, and the postal
worker smashed it into my bag as an attempt to help, and we will find out if
anything valuable was in it I guess. Once I got home I went into my room, shut
the curtain, and began to open the package from my parents in private, not
wanting my family to see that I got something. There is no real reason not to
show them other than the kids would want everything in it and my brother would
be convinced that I am even more rich than he already thinks Americans are.
Velveeta Cheese and Life Savers don’t make one rich but to an African it’s all
the same, goods from America. I am not quite sure how my parents did it, not
sure if I should credit mom or dad or both, but they sure did hit the nail on
the head with this one; Teddy Grahams, Velveeta Cheese,
Granola Bars, Furikaki Seasoning, Soy Sauce, Dried Mushrooms and Strawberries,
Drink Mixes, Instant Potatoes, Trail Mix, Sprinkle Butter, Soup and Pesto
Packets, Life Savers, Gum (naturally sweetened with 100% Xylitol for positive
oral health benefits - thanks mom) and Werther's Candy. I did end up giving the
box to Nene who was shocked that I was going to throw it in the trash for biodegradable
items; I thought I was recycling but she took it a step further and made
everyone in the family a fan. I have no idea how I am going to ration all of
these items or what I am going to eat first, obviously Teddy Grahams were
opened immediately, but what next? To make this day even better they also emailed
me a code for an iTunes gift card, GREAT GIFT. I didn’t realize how much the
gift card was for until I redeemed it and, again, I am not sure how I am going
to ration my music purchases or what I am going to buy. Maybe a few workout
tracks, some good ol’ classics, maybe something local? Time will tell.
Considering how, well negative, my last post was and to the
couple of people who actually read it and expressed concern about how I was
doing, I hope this post answers that. I had a great week, besides the milk
situation, and now have plenty of things, between the music credit and package,
to remind me of home for those hard times. A little shout out to mom and dad,
you know who you are, you are the best. A strong support network back home is
key to having a successful experience abroad and you guys score an A+. If your
lucky when you come to visit I will cook you some noodles and Velveeta
accompanied with kool-aid. Yum.
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