The story of the Kankurang and Donald Duck

It’s getting to the end of summer vacation here in Senegal; meaning back to both school and work, for those lucky enough to have summers off. With summer comes many things but it will be interesting to see the regular routine of a Senegalese family when there is something to be done in the morning.

The Kankurang is something that only exists in a couple of cultures here in Senegal, mine being one of them. I am not sure how to describe him other than as a man dressed up in a outfit resembling cloth covered in something that resembles dreadlocks while carrying a machete. Now this sounds dangerous and scary, and it is. Kids find it entertaining, a game of sorts, to test just how brave they are in seeing how close they will get to the Kankurang before running. He parades around with a band of, which I assume are his friends, who chant and play drums. The singing is exactly how you know that there is a Kankurang around and kids start to worry, while showing excitement simultaneously, similar to suspecting Freddy Krueger being near. I was warned of this creature before I actually laid eyes on him which is fortunate for me because without any previous knowledge of him I may have been tempted to go up to him to see why he was dressed all funny, which would have been a been faux-pas and I am sure quite entertaining for onlookers. While walking to the bar for a drink and some dinner last night with Wilma and Whitney we ran into a Kankurang, who must have been post work, walking down the street. I thought he would have been harmless at this point seeing he was without his gang but the girls, being the vet volunteers that they are, told me that they put tree bark in their masks that gives off fumes similar to those of a hallucinogenic. Combing drugs, machetes, and kids can be a dangerous combination so I was quickly warned to stay clear from their paths and sort of law low when they are around. Well noted. (More precise information on the history of the Kankurang can be found by clicking here.

The bar for dinner was another experience in and of itself. Before entering the bar we were greeted by our friend Ablai, or Lai he told me he goes by. He and his wife, who is from Spain so a fellow Toubob (usually westerner but also white person), own a restaurant and boutique in town that sells “American” goods (off brand cereals, cheese, milk). Lai said he would normally offer us to dinner at his restaurant but the head chef, his wife, is in her native land on vacation for a month so services are paused until she returns. This is mildly disappointing because, being the great European that his wife is and understanding nutrition, she serves each of her meals with a salad. Salad does not exist here, at all, and is a great change of pace from rice and sauce. Upon entering the bar and buying us ladies a round of Trent Trois beer he told me that he was leaving in the morning to go to Dakar for the remainder of the week to stock up on more Toubob type food for his boutique. After explaining to him the importance of getting what is known as Cheetos and Mountain Dew, a request of Wilma’s I cant stand the stuff, he said he would not let us down! He then began to explain to me that his shop is not for him, he grew up here his whole life and is used to the eating habits of Western Africans, but it is in fact for us; to make serving his country seem a little more closer to home. To ensure that we profited from his trip to Dakar we told him where all the great Toubob stores were that had tiki-tiki, real, American food. Throughout the remainder of the evening Lai bought us another round of beers and dinner consisting of mystery meat on baguette for Wilma and Whitney and spaghetti on baguette for me. I am already missing the salad at Lai’s restaurant, or anything not consisting of carbohydrates.

At some point between our first beer and dinner a strange, yet familiar, voice begins to walk into the bar. Who could it be? Donald Duck, or a older Senegalese man impersonating what he believes to be as the American character. I am immediately impressed and excited to have something “American” near by, but Whitney is immediately wierded out by this seemingly creepy old man who talks in a high pitched voice. Wilma and I just laugh. Whitney tried reasoning with me that this was no Donald Duck, but by the end second beer her and Donald Duck were best friends. A talented Donald Duck, one who is versed in many languages and whom doesn’t break character. Lai offered us a ride home in his car; we are all really impressed with his car that would me moderate by American standards, and more than happy to take him up on his offer. It was the end of a great night with the girls. Intentions on being just dinner and a beer ended up being free drinks, dinner, entertainment, and a ride home. I am beginning to love the spontaneous way of life here. 

A Day To Blog About

I woke up this morning with a sense of excitement for the day to come. I was to test out my new peanut butter that I found in the market and I was going to finally get a chance to speak to my parents on Skype (considering the last time was nearly two weeks ago with a rock concert playing in the background).

After buying peanut butter in the market yesterday, and speaking with Diane on how to make it like real American peanut butter, I was thrilled to test it out on toast this morning. Now when I say I bought peanut butter in the market I literally mean the butter from peanuts, nothing else added, organic one would say. I found a few ladies that sit with their bowls of the spread and plastic bags in the market selling this luxury item and I have to admit I am more than willing to be a regular customer. While adding equal amounts of sugar and salt to this organic butter, fine American peanut butter emerges; it goes great with toast, just as I remembered. At the corner boutique along with bread this morning I bought a small baggie of yogurt, also the homemade brand, to go in my Quaker Oats; a breakfast for kings.

After breakfast I strolled over to the Balde residence (my work partner) to say hi. It had been a number of days since I have talked with him even though I figured he would be out working in the fields; I remember him saying how much he appreciates me going to his house to get to know his family better. After greeting everyone I was invited to sit in Amadou’s sister’s room, trying my best to make small talk in a language I barely speak. She then excused herself to go shower and I lay idle, by myself, in her room watching the fan spin on the ceiling. Upon her return I decided to use having to go to the market to buy food to help make lunch as my way out. I will make a mental note to prepare topics of conversation for my next visit.

After feeling like I had a very accomplished morning I returned home to help my mother prepare lunch. Mari has been out of town for the last week or so at a wedding so her daily chores have been passed onto the only other capable female in the house, Nene. I try and help her cook but she insists that I sit and watch. Occasionally she gives me the task of pounding pepper and onions in a traditional wooden pistol and mortar; she at least thinks I am capable of this. We make small talk while she is cooking, consisting of me asking seemingly useless questions that I only pose to her because I am excited in being able to pull a sentence together in Pulaar. She just laughs. I am starting to think that she has lost confidence that I can speak any language at all considering all she ever hears me speak is intermediate French and Pula Futa of a two year old, someday I will prove to her that I am not a complete idiot.  Though Abidina is back now he had been gone for three days or so in the village visiting friends and family. It was actually nice having him gone because it forced me to speak in Pulaar, and to Nene specifically. Now that we can communicate with each other, though its still on a very basic level, I have found her to be very funny. With Mari gone she gets to make comments now such as “Nene defay buy.” Nene cooks a lot. “Nene wuppi.” Nene washed cloths. She appears to get a kick out of doing things that I am sure Mari would not hesitate to give up a little more often.

After lunch I waited around for the carpenter to come and put the finishing touches on my desk, until I remembered that I was in Senegal and I could be waiting for days. I decided to get a head start on going to the hotel so I could get some work done before my Skype date with the parentals. Upon arriving to the hotel I was pleasantly greeted with the, seemingly permanently aggravated, employee who informed me that she shut off the Wi-Fi until tomorrow. Now I was aware that, for some strange reason, my family shuts off their cell phones and disconnects TV’s and fans in a big thunderstorm but was completely unaware that, even though it had stopped raining, she would unplug the Wi-Fi. Are the Senegalese afraid of getting electrocuted if around a power source during a storm? Was there something that I was missing? The next time it doesn’t storm I will have to Google this. While biting my tongue in explaining that is was no longer raining and its ok to use electricity during a storm, for the fear that she knew something that I didn’t, I pleasantly said my goodbyes and said I would come back tomorrow. On my walk home I remembered my brother saying that whenever I wanted I could go to the school he worked at to use the computers in their computer lab. I rushed home in hopes that he would find this idea to be as exciting as I.  Upon arriving home the carpenter was there to finish my desk, I would propose the idea once he was finished. The desk turned out pretty good- back to business. After finding out that I was not able to speak to my parents Abidina was more that happy to show me to his school that had working computers and Internet.

Of course it was sprinkling our whole walk to the school. Having a “computer lab” at a school is ahead of the times here but I don’t know why I thought that I would be able to just plug a cord into my computer and it would work. It simply could not be that easy. Getting this cable/phone credit connection to work on the Mac would involve setting up the router and cable in the network settings on my computer, something that I was not emotionally and technically equipped to do. Abidina let me use the phone, at least it was good for something if not dialing onto the internet, to quick call home to tell mom that I would be on at a later time. The familiarity of her voice made me overjoyed. We will postpone our talk until tomorrow.

By this time it is almost seven and still sprinkling on our walk home. We decided to stop at the house of a fellow teacher that lives near the school on our way back, I soon learned that the stop was mostly at cause of him having unlimited internet and Abidina wanted to check his Facebook. While poking around pictures of an old Volunteer with the Peace Corps that he once worked with, with soccer playing on the TV in the background, we realized that is was now way past dark and we should get going, be it in the rain or not. I had packed my umbrella earlier in case of this weather and Abidina borrowed his friends and we started to make our walk back home.

It’s not a long walk, but it quickly turned longer than normal in the rain and black streets. Our journey was mixed with assisting each other in the seemingly easy task of walking and following closely behind on those thin slippery trails on the road. Cars and mopeds splash by us and I started to wonder why we even needed the umbrellas. “It was almost too perfect of a walk home to be real life, this is not how Americans live”, I remember thinking to myself. Even though Senegal proved to let me down again with inconsistent Internet our walk home was too memorable. Me teaching Abidina the song “Singing in the Rain”, him making up his own words in French to the same rhythm consisting of lyrics loosely translating to “we have to walk careful because African roads are no good when it rains.” Me laughing at his lyrics, him mocking my truly American, loud laugh; it was like watching a movie of someone’s dream adventure. I am in Senegal I thought. This is how one should enjoy the simplicities of life, the true beauties.

After finally arriving home Nene greeted us with dinner, rice porridge stuff; it’s sweet, I would think similar to rice pudding though I have never tried it. Abidina reminded me that it’s great for digestion and constipation. I am beginning to wonder why he thinks I have a constipation problem.  I just sit and nod and make a point to remember to someday inform him that my life in that department is normal and functioning.

I head to my room at a descent hour to make more toast with the peanut butter spread. I retire in my desk to watch The Little Mermaid, which seemed like a seemingly perfect end to my day, until I am reminded of the leak in my roof right onto my lap. I must remember to get that fixed. It’s off to watch the movie in bed without any protest. After the movie I drift off into sleep listening to the rain and on my tin roof. I sleep in hopes to speak to my parents tomorrow, catch up on some emails and upload some more photos. I will also make a mental note to call Grandpa and Janice, it has been entirely too long since I have heard their voices and I am beginning to wonder how I am going to go two years without seeing them. Lets hope it doesn’t rain.

The End of a Great Beginning

When I started writing this post it was a rainy Saturday late afternoon; I was pinned to my computer as it stormed outside. It is rainy season here and I have found the rain has engulfed me with a sense of security.

I sit in my foam mattress that rests on the floor listening to the rain hit my tin roof as if two small armies were having a civil war. In attempt to hear my iTunes I have it on full blast though it still sounds quiet.

Since arriving to Vélingara I have been meeting city officials, work partners, family members, friends of family members, neighbors, and about everyone in between who doesn’t somehow fit into an above category. I am trying to remember names but considering how horrible I am with remembering even American names to no surprise I am doing no better here in Senegal. There are, what seems to be, less than a dozen last names, which a majority of everyone falls under. Conveniently enough, you can refer to someone by their last name so I figure if anything I can just start throwing out names. It also helps that you can call people something simply by stating the obvious; any older woman you can refer to them as Nene (mom), older male Baba (dad) anyone above that generation who is female you can call mama (grandma) and so on.

Korité marks the end of the month of fasting, also known as Ramadan. Since I arrived only three days before the celebration I was unsure as to how the day was going to go, but it all ended well. After breakfast I went with Nene and my two nieces to the park in town where the “service” was held. I put service in quotes only because I am unsure of what to call it but I got a service-like vibe from everyone while there. There was prayer, preaching of some sort, and greetings to neighbors. The boys of the house were all front and center at the park while Nene and the girls were near the back. While attending a religious event at the Mosque, or at the park in this case, it is imperative that men are in the front while women are in the back. 

I am not sure as to why this is but I am guessing is has to do with some ancient “women are less equal” belief that has never changed. My work partner Amadou was nice enough to grab my camera for a bit to document what was going on up front. Since I was acting as a “tourist”, walking around taking photos and not praying, I am sure that it would have been fine if I had gone up front but it just seemed a little awkward. After service we went back to the house where Mari prepared a wonderful lunch! While dining an authentic Pulaar band came to our house to play music, while asking for donations in return. You can see the band from the videos that I posted; it was a lot of fun! The rest of the afternoon was spent with Amadou, my work partner. He wanted to walk with my around my quarter to meet some of the families that are using the trash service, as a way to meet our customers. This turned into us walking around for two hours talking with not only customers but I am pretty sure every member of his family. Though I don’t remember a single persons name it was nice seeing how excited Amadou was to introduce me to his family. Every house he told me “my family is now your family”, he is too nice. I finished off the night laying under the stars playing with the girls and talking to Abidina. What a great day.

I think it is safe to say that I attended my first Baptism ever.  Since I am no expert on Baptisms, or anything too religious for that matter, I will give my understanding of events here in Senegal and feel free to compare and contrast with American culture. A baptism in Senegal usually happens about a week after the birth and is not only a celebration but also acts as a naming ceremony. Now I am not sure if this is how it works in all of Africa but here in Senegal it is considered taboo to name a child in the first week or so after birth in fear of jinxing their health. At the ceremony the baby is sort of passed around, mostly amongst women while the new mom is dressed in her best- hair and makeup fully done. The other women of the family cook a huge meal for everyone, usually similar to normal daily meals but kicked up a notch, as Emerl would say, with some sort of meat like sheep, goat or cow. Before eating I spent time talking to my moms family and drinking real milk, straight from the tit! I hear this is a great way to get TB but I figure there are worse things that I can get while here and there is no sense in limiting myself and living in fear of things that may happen. After a few hours of people watching I started to get bored and started playing a game with Salimatou that quickly turned into what I believe was the largest tournament this village has ever seen. There were at least 20 kids gathered around as three raced to be the first to gets all of his/her rings over the poles in an imitation telephone. It was entertaining to say the least and I posted a video of it if you care to witness a true battle.

While there are small things that I will be doing to keep up with the waste management service the Peace Corps is adamant on Volunteers not working during their first three months of getting to site. This time is used to integrate and learn the language better. It makes sense if you think about it- I have all these ideas on how to grow our business and start to turn a profit but if I can’t verbally express myself I will 1) not be understood and 2) not taken seriously because my knowledge of how to speak the language is that of a child. For now I speak to Amadou in French about things that are crucial that I know now but he is slowly speaking to me more and more in Pulaar. I keep telling him I have only been here a week and that its ok to speak to me in French still but he insists on me learning Pulaar sooner than later. So besides not working these are a few of the things that fill up my day:

• Going to the market with Mari to buy produce for lunch (always an adventure)

• Eating A LOT

• Watching my brother make tea (its truly a craft)

• Practicing French by speaking to my brother and other community members

• Post-lunch nap (mandatory)

• Reading American books (my new favorite thing)

• Convincing myself that I practice Pulaar enough (even though I know I should more)

• Trying to figure out a workout routine (anything is better than nothing at this point)

• Calling other volunteers whom I miss with our FREE VOLUNTEER TO VOLUNTEER CALLING 

So as you can see I have little time to do the things that I find entertaining or the least bit interesting (insert a tone of sarcasm here). Though with this being said I can’t wait until IST (In Service Training) in three months; that is the official marker for when us new Volunteers are welcomed into the working world. I believe it is a weeklong event at the Training Center in Thies. It is designed to help us further more with our projects; we will be able to ask specific questions concerning our particular projects. 

Well that is all for now folks. Stay tuned for more to come this week; I am sure I will have lots to report. Until then, if there is anything specific that you ever wonder about or think only in your head for fear that the question may be inappropriate, please do ask in the comments section. I will start to blog about things that interest my readers, not just me.

The Family Tree

I have spent the last 11 nights at my new residence and I am happy to report that I am happy to call the Barry house a home. My new family is truly amazing and I look forward to the next two years with them here in Vélingara.

I will try my best to explain the dynamics of the Barry/Jalo family but like most Senegalese families they are complex. Though you call someone your brother and he lives at your house he might be a boy from a neighboring village. You would never know this unless you dig a little and ask. (Description follows photo)

My grandmother, Mama or Fatoumata, is in her 90’s and as strong as an ox. She has more energy than me on most days and she is truly a joy to have around the house. I love watching her and she gets a kick out of talking to me in Pulaar, a fair exchange I would say. 

Safy (or Yayé meaning great aunt) is my late host father’s first wife and she also lives with us (my mom is his second wife). She is older, I would think mid to late seventies maybe, and has a hard time seeing. She has kids of her own that are grown and they have kids; they all come around the house often but that is a whole other family tree. She mostly keeps in her room and I try my best to speak with her when I see her and she just laughs. 

My mom Assiatou, also known as Nene which is mom in Pulaar, is a 54 year old woman who loves to dance, spend time with her family, and visit friends and family in and around town. I am named after this beautiful woman. She does not speak French and she uses that to her advantage to make me practice Pulaar.

My brother, Abidina, is a French teacher at a school here in town. Since my host father has passed away he is the man of the house.  He is 33 and has three children with his wife Mari. Its obvious that everything he works for is to better the lives of his children and family. 

Mari, Abidina’s wife and the foundation of the family. She is 24, its very common for the woman to be much younger than the man in Senegal. From what I can tell right now Mari stays at home with the kids but while they are in school she studies to finish what is the equivalent to our middle school. While at home she does literally all the chores; taking care of three kids, cooking, cleaning, and laundry (by hand of course). 

Ousmane, who is 11, is Abidina’s nephew. His mother died when he was really young and his dad lives in a nearby village so he lives with us, but he thinks that Nene is his mom. They said they will tell him when he is older that his mother passed and apparently its normal in Senegalese culture for him not to know about his birth mother until later. He helps out around the house a lot. He is at the right age right now he wants to help with more “grown up” things but is very sweet at heart. 

Adama, who is 7, is the cousin of Abidina.  He is also unaware that his birth mother died when he was young and also thinks that Nene is his mom; he will be told when he is older as well. He is a little bit more of a menace, though still very polite. He helps out around the house just as much as the other children but likes to play with kids around the neighborhood more.

This brings me to Salimatou, the oldest of Mari and Abidina. She is 7 years old. She is like any other child in the states and loves to play around the neighborhood, learn, and help her mom.

Diénabou is the middle child and is 4 years old. She is starting school this year for the first time and is very excited. She is a typical sweet young girl who loves to dance and wants to do everything her older sister does. 

Abdulaye, or Ablaye for short, is the youngest of Abidina and Mari’s children, he is about 15 months old. He is a riot! He walks around the house all day saying Nene (mom) and Baba (dad). You can tell he is just realizing the power he has with knowing how to use his voice, he talks all day. Also worth mentioning, he is always into something!

Ce n'est plus un PCT

No longer a Peace Corps Trainee -

Half of dinner table

Well, there is no other way of putting it, I am officially a volunteer, and if feels great!
I am not going to touch too much on this because I have already talked about it but Dakar was great and we sure did show the town whose boss!

Before all of that though few of us managed to go to Le Village de Tortu (Village of Turtles) before leaving our CBT sites for good. It was, well it was ok, but it was nice to get out of the house a little bit.
It was basically a small park that housed all sorts of different sized turtles, all of which could be seen in under an hour.

Second Half - you can almost see everyone

Swear In ceremony was around 10:30 am on Friday, August 10th, 2012 at the American Ambassador's house in Dakar. It was followed by a lunch for us new volunteers and a few other volunteers from previous stages at the Peace Corps Senegal Country Director's house. The morning went by pretty quick but we were all excited to change out of our complets (business suits) considering how hot and uncomfortable they are! From here Alexx, Trevon and myself toured around Darak for a bit before returning to our hotel room to attempt to nap; by nap I mean watch tv, surf the web and talk about how we should be napping. We had a couple drinks in our hotel room before meeting up with everyone for dinner, which was great, and returning to our rooms to get our pre-party started! The night was FILLED with dancing, Alexx and I represented well I must say! We were out until entirely way too late, I think we finally got in around 4:30am, and we payed for it the next day let me tell you!

Smushed and dripping!

Alexx, Trevon and I returned to Thies Saturday afternoon after attempting to eat pancakes and an omelette, which we did not prove to be successful in. The sept place (car that has 7 seats, or sept in French) that we took from Dakar to Thies was so unbearably hot there was nothing to do but laugh!! We were literally watching beads of sweat drip off of us as we are in the far back of a car in the middle of an African afternoon. Besides the almost unbearable heat the drive went by pretty quick, only about two hours.

Our last night in Thies was pretty relaxed. Alexx and I still were not feeling 100%, well I would say 20% would be a closer estimate, so we stayed under the radar pretty much all night. Dinner was spent with Julia also, eating delicious pizza and salad and then it was off to bed.

The two sept place's was Tambacounda bound by 7:30am this morning, and of course it was raining. Our car managed to hit a dog on our way and it was sent flying at least 20 feet; Jenn was following in the car behind us and bet that the dog had lost a leg in the accident. Though I feel bad for the animals in Senegal I am pretty sure dogs and goats think they are invincible considering they are always in the way of traffic. Other than that little mishap it only took about six hours from Thies and we were welcomed into the Tambacounda (Tamba) regional house with burgers, salad and mashed potatoes. One of the best meals I have had here by far!! The remainder of the day was spent relaxing, playing cards, and listening to music. Right now I am in a love-hate relationship with this Tamba regional house. My allergies are as worse as they have ever been! I am not sure what exactly its from but I could guess some combination of the cats, puppy, dust, and dirt. We are here in Tamba until Thursday or Friday and then I will get installed into Velingara, FINALLY! It is so close but I feel like this week is going to drag. I just want to be in my own room, unpacked, and getting over the awkward first month of living with strangers.

Almost there!

Hello Madam Secretary!

I must say this week has been one of the most interesting that we have had thus far. It has been filled with both highs and lows, and everything in between.
We started out the week with a Counterpart Workshop in order to prepare both ourselves and our work partners for the work that lies ahead of us.
It is always a little awkward having someone that you barely know come  to the training center for training sessions when you hardly have one language in common. A relationship will come with time and I am at least glad that we had the opportunity to spend some time together before I get to site. Some of the sessions that our work partners attended included topics on safety and security for the volunteer, how to help the volunteer integrate into the community, and some habits and cultural differences to expect with living with an American. Though the sessions were focused on being more informative than entertaining one of the highlights of the Counterpart Workshop was a language session. During the session one of the trainees in my stage, who was a previous volunteer in Kazakhstan before the country got evacuated because of safety issues, taught a few of our supervisors some key phrases in Kazakh. The point of this session was to show our work partners how difficult it is to learn a language, specifically one that they have had no previous knowledge of. While learning Kazakh, which is considered a Turkic language, they will be faced with some of the difficulties that we face everyday and, in theory, be more aware of how we are feeling. I think they point came across well, it was HILARIOUS to say the least!

Apparently a day in the life of us trainees involves Hillary Clinton, obviously, as she administered our swear-in oath this past week. Being able to meet Hillary Clinton and have her read us the oath was a was a once in a lifetime opportunity. We were recognized not only throughout the Peace Corps community but also internationally in various news publications (Click here for article in CS Monitor publication and Click here for article in allAfrica publication). Meeting her made me realize and respect just how much the Clinton family as a whole does for our world community! They are a true inspiration and I would like to think that someday I will have the opportunity to work more closely with their efforts. Below is the oath that every Peace Corps Trainee says at their Swear-In Ceremony in order to become an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

I, (state your name) do solemnly swear

That I will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic,

And that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same,

That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion,

And that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties in the Peace Corps,

So help me god.

Movie Night is something that, and I have absolutely no clue why, I have failed to mention and is a big part of my life as a trainee. Now I am sure that by now you are familiar with the fact that I am spending my time between two cities; Sangalkam, in which I work on language and culture with one other trainee, and Thies, in which I work with all the trainees in business training sessions. While I am in Thies a couple of trainees (Trevon and Alexx) and myself have started having movie nights after dinner; we simply hook my computer up to a projector in an air conditioned room (this is key) with hopes to feel like we are actually at a movie theater. Originally Alexx, Trevon, and myself invited our whole stage (training class) but since we are the only ones that ever really show up we like to consider it as something that is our little thing now. We have watched all sorts of movies from a documentary on American education called Waiting For Superman to the ultimate comedy Stepbrothers to the film Pulp Fiction in which I am still a little unsure exactly what had happened. It truly depends on our mood. This is also the time where we take advantage of eating junkfood, usually American if we can get our hands on it. Overall, one of my fondest memories I will have during PST (pre-service training).

Tonight we are having our Host Family Reception in which each of the trainees, one member of their host family, our language teachers and other Peace Corps staff get together for a few hours for dinner and a reception. None of us are really positive on who exactly is coming from our family, since the invitations were sent out after we were back in Thies, but I believe its my host mom. I am excited for tonight not only because of the good food that we are going to get to eat but also because my mom is quite the social butterfly so I won't have to keep her entertained throughout the evening! It will be fun to meet some other people from the Senegalese community in a relaxed atmosphere and to see the types of relationships that each of us trainees have formed with our families.

So its official, I received my first package!!! A big THANK YOU to my wonderful parents and Bird and Doug, or my parents host family as they like to call them as of lately, for everything!! This beautifully stickered-out box was filled with things such as a Hawaiian calendar (duh), keyboard cover, wipes, adapter/converter, memory card, and jump rope. I assumed that a package being sent from Hawaii would take some time to receive but I never would have thought six weeks!! Considering the length of time it takes to get a package it appears as though I will only be requesting luxury items instead of the necessities, in which I will be able to buy in Vélingara. So feel free to send anything my way, anything and everything is more than appreciated!!!

I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone that has taken the time to send emails or Skype with me online! I know that everyone is very busy with their own lives but it means a lot to be able to talk to everyone once in a while! I will always accept a Skype date request so feel free to send them my way.

Cheers and until next time!

The Unmentionables

Baby goat interrupting class....

Now I am not sure how I want to start this post off but I suppose I can just dive right in! I wanted to take a minute to talk about a few topics that one would normally avoid while blogging; personal hygiene. Now this is going to be interesting to say the least considering I have a fourteen year old leaning over my shoulder and reading everything that I am writing. I am assuming that he has no idea what I am writing, and if he does, well, he is in for a treat.
So there are certain tasks that a volunteer considers to be less important while in country than when they were in the United States, like shaving. Now I am sure there are those volunteers that keep up with this seemingly tedious task but that is definately not going to be the case for this chica!
Now I am sure you are asking yourself "why am I still reading this post", but when I decided to continue writing this blog while in Senegal I told myself that I would be honest!
This means that while you get to hear about all of the cool stuff that I do you also get to hear about all the not so cool stuff either! So here is goes, I cant remember the last time that I shaved. I am guessing it was the fourth of July since we were at the beach.  Not shaving regularly is something that, not to my surprise, something that I don't mind at all! Once less thing to worry about I say and if you can't beat em', join em'! So as of right now there will be none of this shaving nonsense, but I will be sure to keep you updated if things change so dont you fret. I also cant remember the last time that I was felt clean for more than a couple of hours or when I was not sweating during night while I slept. Also I seem to have a case of the nocturnal diarrhea. I am not really sure if this is a real thing, and I am sure my doctor of an Uncle, John, would say that it is completely false, but its true! I only have "episodes" before I go to bed, definitely during the night, and once I wake up. I am still working on the cause of this problem, diet I am assuming, with the medical staff but its a work in progress. I suppose these are things that are not that big of a deal but they are just things that I wanted to mention. 
On to better topics, as time is nearing the end of my CBT site things are becoming more real. It is going to be sad to say goodbye to my family here in Sangalkam. Even though there is still an obvious language barrier there are things that, as cliché as this is, dont need words in order to be understood. My family is truly great and have been nothing short of great towards me. I am also happy to report that during my stay here my Pular is actually improving! I had my second LPI (Language Proficiency Interview) today and it went MUCH better than the first time, well considering that I didn't cry halfway through it was an improvement in and of itself, but my language skills are actually getting better! And in my own defense, I only cried because I was frustrated that I was unable to physically communicate the words that I wanted to say, which Houssey was more than reassuring that my language was coming along just fine and that it just takes time. The LPI can has a way of making you feel incapable if you not proficient in the language (it is basically a test where the instructor asks a variety of questions that prompt conversation-like answers). I am able to greet people, ask and answer questions, talk about my work here in Sengal, and my life in the United States. This may sound minute but is a victory in my book. While I am on the topic of greetings, its very interesting how people greet each other here on a regular basis, its a long process to say the least. When you see someone on the street you usually say a short greeting consisting of "On Jaaraama", meaning Hello, with "Jam Tun" as the response, meaning Peace only, with a few other possible exchanges of phrases following. But with anyone that you have any communication with you would have a dialogue similar to the one below with the following statements (S) and responses (R):

S: On Jaaraama. Hello.
R: On Jaaraama. Hello.
S: Tanaa alaa ton? There is no evil there?
R: Jam Tun. Peace Only.
S: Golle den le? How is the work?
R: No Marsude. It goes.
S: A Nallii e jam? Did you spend the day in peace?
R: Jam Tun. Peace Only.
S: Beynguure nden le? How is the family?
R: Jam Tun. Peace Only.
S: Honno sukaabe maa wadi? How are the kids?
R: Hibe e jam. They are good.
S: Alxamdulilah. Praise be to god.
R: Alxamdulilah. Praise be to god.

This just shows how involved people are here with each other and how it is pretty much impossible to see someone on the street and not have a three minute conversation with them detailing how your family, work, and actions you have done that day are all in peace. Besides greetings, my family gets a kick out of my sentences because they make me sound like a three year old, like when I say I am going to the bathroom, or I am washing my cloths, but they understand which is key. Also, I think that my French is improving, which is so exciting! I cant wait for the day that I am able to understand what everyone is saying on tv!!

With host family!

This next week is going to busy! It will consist of the Counterpart Workshop, where each volunteer has both their supervisor and counterpart come to the training center for a two-day event on: general getting to know each other better exercises, American culture fair, information on how we will now fit into their community and work environment. Our week here in Thies will also consist of more of the usual medical sessions, aka immunization time (which the doctors know me by name now and are prepared with various questions to distract me as the stabbing takes place), safety and security sessions, language classes, and party (consisting of volunteers, Peace Corps Staff, and one member of each of our host families during CBT). Following this week of festivities we will have about three more days with our host family then we are off to the US Embassy in Dakar to swear in and then VELINGARA HERE I COME!! Time has flown by here and I can't wait to actually start my service and be a volunteer! 

Volunteer Visits

So I am sitting in the wonderfully airconditioned computer room here at the training center and I am trying to think of things that I wanted to mention in this post about my four days or so with Pamela, the volunteer that I am replacing (my ancienne in PC lingo). This brainstorming session is only resulting in me wanting to take the road trip back down south to Vélingara and start my project!

It is not that I don't like Sangalkam but its a small village and, for lack of a better phrase, I get bored. There is only so much studying one can do before you want to go out and do something and since my language skills are still pretty low there is only so much communicating I can do with family and neighbors before I revert to sitting and listening to conversation in a foreign language. We are going to be at our CBT (community based training) sites for seven nights this time around, the longest period thus far, and I am looking forward to returning back to site. I look at it as the sooner I get done with this week the sooner training will start to wind down and the sooner I can go to my permanent site.

My ancienne Pam!!

My time with Pam in Vélingara was great! I was able to learn the logistics of transportation to and from Vélingara, tour and get to know the streets and important places well enough to survive, and meet other volunteers in my region and even in the same town - yup I said it, there will be REAL AMERICANS in my town, which will come in real handy when I just need some time to turn by brain off and relax! Along with getting to know important places in my town, such as where the boulangerie (bakery) and hotel with WIFI was, I also was introduced to some of the key partners in town that I would be able to work with if I wanted to. Though there is already a PC volunteer working with this organization specifically, there is a large presence with the organization World Vision.

With my visit I was able to bombard Pam with questions regarding the project that she has started and I will see through with my service. There is a lot of work that has to be done with the project but to Pams credit a lot has been done for me. The project, in a nut shell, is a service to residents of Vélingara to have their trash and plastics picked up multiple times a week to be disposed of in a controlled area where sorting will eventually take place. From here it opens the doors to providing trash bins in public areas to reduce trash in populated areas. She has already outlined a project plan, funding, and started providing the service in one of the areas of town and its up to me to continue the project and expand it into a successful association. Right now the trash is being picked up by one person via donkey and cart with hopes in the future to be able to provide the service to the whole community with multiple drivers and perhaps a vehicle or two to dispose the trash.

With the project being more clear it is important that I focus on language the first couple of months that I am physically at site. Without French language skills, and eventually Pula Futa, I will not be able to work with community members to build the project. With that being said I am still working on finding a host family that I will live with during my service. I would have been more than welcome to stay at the residence that Pam is currently staying at but it just wasn't right for me. There have already been two previous volunteers at this site and so I feel I would loose the sparkle of a new American and be more of a drain on the family. It is always good to switch families every once in while to ensure that you are not imposing and they actually are excited to have a foreigner live amongst them for two more years. Along with wanting to not totally drain the hospitality out of this family there is also some tension within the family that I would prefer to not even get involved in. There are two different households that I would "belong" to with two different head of the households and already it was clear that each family thought of me as their American. I was named, and renamed, and talked to about who I should pay for each bill because the families don't and can't share money. There are just too many factors right now going into this new site that I would like to avoid, if possible, and now would be the time to change. So with that being said I should know in the next week or so if another family was found for me and who they would be. The PC staff is working with the my ancienne Pam, my supervisor, and work partner to look for a new family.

Well as for now I should be getting in the van to go back to my training site. This week I need to make sure to get an outfit made for our Swear In ceremony at the American Ambassador's house. I bought fabric here in Thies  and plan on having the wonderful boys that work at the family tailoring business make me something real fancy, so stay tuned for a picture with my new Senegalese outfit! Until next time, take care and PLEASE leave any and all comments. Its nice being able to read outside perspective on my little world.

Site Announcements!

This is it, this is what we have all been waiting for, site announcements! I must say, I did not imagine this day being as big of a deal as it actually is. I guess I didn’t really put much thought into it but I am pleasantly surprised how much effort goes into making the moment of this day special - your LCF leading you blindly across a basketball court, painted to include a map of Senegal.

Here you are to be dropped off hovering over the city where you will be spending the next two years in, awaiting for everyone to count to three, which they drag on for about what feels like 10 minutes. Once you take off the blindfold you instantly try to piece together where you are located in comparison to the capital and your closest friends in the stage. I would like to consider myself pretty down to earth and go with the flow, but this had me freaking out! I am not sure if it was the uncertainty of not knowing the project that my life will soon be devoted to or the reality that I am actually signing up to move to a city that I know nothing about and am unsure if, for a lack of a better phrase, if I will like it. When you are living in the states and you consider yourself a world traveler, like I once did, you like to think that you are ready to go wherever the next trip is willing to take you. Be it near or far, you were up for the challenge. But once that challenge presents itself to you, staring at you directly in the face, with realities such as drop hole toilets, pollution, malnutrition, and a lack of WI-FI (I know, the latter of these is not in comparison with the others but it is still a concern of mine) shit becomes real. I know this is the Africa that I signed up for, and please believe that I am not complaining because I understand just how big this actually is, and I am ready to test just how strong I actually am. Back to the point, I will be in a town known as Velingara which is in the Kolda region in the southern part of Senegal. More information to come after I have my visit this next week at my actual site.

We only have about 10 more days with our host families. As this time is ending it is almost bitter sweet. The first day that we were sent off to live with these strangers, many of us about in tears, we were told that in fact one day we will miss these families and become excited as time nears to return from the training center to be able to see them. As much as I like my family, and I really do, I can honestly say that I am not really excited to go back yet. I love having my English time with the 18 other people in my stage. Getting to know this diverse group that I am training with was easy. I must say we come from many different backgrounds from all over the US (including off mainland islands such as Hawaii, St. Croix in The Virgin Islands and Haiti) and this past month I have become so comfortable and familiar with most of them that I feel like I have known them my whole life. As time nears leaving the comforts of our training center I feel as though I should take advantage as much as possible of how easily accessible these fine folk actually are.

There are a few things that I made a note of while I was in Sangalkam this week that I wanted to be sure to mention. They are not worthy of a whole blog post but little things that I feel as though I forget to mention but is crucial in how I live my life these days.

·         The Senegalese lock every door! My host mom will not leave her room without her key and is sure to inform me when I “forget” to lock my room. It is not a matter of security I don’t think but if you loose something then it is viewed as shameful and looks bad on the family.

·         Soap is a luxury here, which is gross to say the least. Simple tasks such as food preparation or post toilet duties do not involve soap and its something that is REALLY hard to get used to and result in a lost of host families receiving soap, included with how-to lessons, as presents from volunteers.

·         Everything is either fried or washed in cooking oil. Period.

·         Meals are usually later starting with lunch around 3pm and dinner around 9:30 – unless you make it very clear that you are tired by 8pm resulting in having dinner at 9pm.

·         If it rains, the power will go out, most likely. This does not pose much of a threat unless you are in an area like I will be that has a six month rainy season. Hello headlamp.

Finally one last thing that I wanted to talk about, and the main reason why I am in Senegal, my project – drum roll please……… Waste Management! Now I know this sounds like a glorified garbage man type position but let me tell you this, it is pretty legit work! When we were all still fresh faces here on the grounds of the Training Center we were asked which niches we wanted to work in – Waste Management, Artisanal Goods, Ecco Tourism & Agri Business. My initial instinct was Artisanal Goods, being able to help women sell their fair trade items locally, nationally and potentially internationally sounded fun, but then reality set in. To be quite frank I am not the most creative person I know, its just not in my blood and so the thought of trying to be crafty on a professional level started to become mentally draining. After a quick session on each of the different niches Waste Management began to lure me in. I am not sure if have been a well-trained soldier in the sense of not littering or if it was merely the fact that littering in the US is simply not tolerable. I wanted to now make this my project to clean up Senegal and make it beautiful so that a) people actually want to vacation here and b) we can turn a profit on all this trash that is lying around. Creating or improving a waste management sector in a community not only creates jobs and removes waste but that trash can also be turned into merchandise to sell, in turn creating income for families. This is something that I knew I could be passionate about and hope that while I am here I am able to not only make a difference in the physical beauty of Senegal but change the though process of the people to understand the value of waste management.

Thanks again for visiting, until next time. 

The Time of Firsts

I am finally getting more comfortable in my surrounds that I am able to notice more cultural things and actual behaviors of the Senegalese, other than seemingly wondering around lost. This last week that I was in Sangalkamp, and about to head back to again here in a few minutes, I took "public transportation" for the first time, went with my host mom to find our goats in the "pasture", go on a unknown trip to bring my host brother lunch, and the list goes on and on.
Public transportation here is something that is not as glamorous as the US but it present and easily accessible none the less! I must say that I am pleasantly surprised how easy it is to find an "Alham" (a form of public transportation, a van, and PCV's refer to them as Alhams because the term "Alhamdulillah" is painted on the front of all of them, meaning Praise Be To God in Arabic) and only pay 100 CFA's (which is about 20 cents) and ride it to the neighboring town about 45 minutes away. All the public transportation is privately owned and they are basically vans that people use to drive people around in, where there is an obvious need in the community there is always someone willing to fill that need.
We have two goats at my house, which I must say I did not even know they existed the first week that I was there. They live in a tiny hut (5X5 I would think) in our backyard at night and I was explained that my host mom brings them to and from the field each day so they can roam around and eat. I was thinking this was a great idea, first off because its free and it gets them out of their closet sized house. One night while Anthony was over my mom gestured that she was going to go get the goats, and of course, I dragged Anthony along for the ride. I just had to see how this process worked! We took a little lid filled with rice and a rope and walked out of the house in search of our little friends. Once we arrived to the field, well a pile of sand and trash to be completely honest I was in shock! I am not sure what I was expecting but I think deep down inside, also feeling a little naive, I would stumble upon acres and acres of green lucious grass. Since Senegal western Senegal is an area of sand, sand and more sand I am not sure why I was expecting anything green but I did not imagine that these goats, or any animal for that matter, would be able to survive picking through the trash and scraps on a big sand pit. Needless to say, we did not find the goats that night and the other time that I went to go with my mom to fetch them we were unable to find them as well. There are many other goats roaming around so I am unable to be helpful in the task of pinpointing our goats out specifically, but one day I am just going to grab whichever two goats I can catch first and bring them home.
The trip to bring my host brother lunch sounds all dandy until you realize that I was unable to speak the language thus not knowing where my mom was talking about when asking me if I wanted to go, not knowing that we are chasing an Alham as it nears departure at the garage (a term used for like a bus station, or van/car station I guess here in Senegal) in order to catch it, not knowing that there is a sufficient reason for getting dropped off in the middle of nowhere to walk through the sand and through a garden to find my host brother resting in a small hut about 1/4 of a mile off the road in the complete middle of nowhere. This sure was an exciting way to spend the afternoon though I must say, my host brother, in his late 30's I would imagine, set up his hand made hammock made out of a vegetable sack and some sticks and let me swing in the shade as my mother tried to feed me more mangos, which I insisted that after the sixth one in the hut I was truly "hadi" (full). We took a tour of the garden where he worked where he should be all the types of peppers, onions, mangos, mint (which I ate a leaf and imagined myself sipping on a Mojito in the states), Basal (I think?), and various other foods.
As time approaches to load our packs into the Peace Corps vans (which are a luxury here in Senegal, they have working air conditioning and lack locals screaming and pounding on the side of the van to get off at every tiny town we pass) I am beginning to wonder what this next week will bring. I am going to attempt to explore my town and use my Pula Futa more. The language is coming along more and I am much more receptive than I was in previous weeks. I have accepted the fact that I will be here for two more years and language will come in time.
Thanks again for reading, take care everyone! I miss you all and can't wait until we chat again. Bisous.