Pad Thai in Thailand... OK!

In a complete attempt not to bore you I decided that it might be better to write a kind of long post, sorry, about my trip to Thailand instead of just posting my itinerary, as I originally was going to do out of pure laziness.

One of my best friends from the states that I have known since high school has been living the exciting life of traveling around Southeast Asia and I had the opportunity to join her, her boyfriend and his friend for a mini vacation/break from Senegal. I have not seen her in entirely too long, she had moved to South America after college, so of course I jumped on the chance to not only catch up with her while were both capable of being in the same place at the same time but also to explore the beautiful, and exhilarating, country of Thailand. 

My first impressions of Thailand were great, everyone was very welcoming and it was great to be in a civilized country again, as politically incorrect as that may sound. We spent the first three days of my part of the trip in the capitol city of Bangkok where we ate street food, visited some of the most famous and beautiful

Shopping street near hotel

Temples around and did some shopping in the infamous street of Khao San Road where you could do, find and eat just about anything. Of course the first meal that I ate in Thailand, dinner with Kari in a little café just outside of our hotel was Mexican food. I figured that I needed to not only get in as much Thai food as possible but this was my chance to get all those other ethic foods that I crave while in Senegal including Mexican, Indian and Italian.

After our time in Bangkok we all decided that we wanted to get out of the city and head up north to the mountains of Chiang Mai. We took the night train from Bangkok, which arrived in Chiang Mai only two hours late which the delay I was accustomed to at this point and was honestly a better form of any sort of transportation in Senegal. We were aware that monsoon season was welcoming us and, being in the mountains the rains were particularly worse than any other part of the country during our trip. With that being said it was hard to just walk around town and get lost since we relied on public transportation to get to specific sites; though there was one day where we put on our ponchos and walked to the Women’s Correctional Facility to set up appointments for massages and got to see a few more sites along the way. And yes, I did say massages at a correctional facility; the women

The rice fields we passed on our way north
to Chiang Mai

are trained so that they have a skill once they are out of the institution. They were more than friendly, very professional and gave great Thai massages which I found out are not meant to be relaxing but was more of an hour of stretching, twisting and kneading our bodies. One of our day trips was quite memorable and that was to the Elephant Nature Park just north though still in Chiang Mai. We had a van pick us up at our guest house which not only brought us to the park but showed a video that was from some travel channel describing the problems that elephants in Thailand face today (forced begging, physical and emotional abuse and demanding physical labor). For a country that truly respects and worships elephants they are horribly mistreated, solely as a source of income, and Sangduen ‘Lek’ Chailert has created a sanctuary for the gentle giants that she is able to buy or rescue within Thailand; along with the elephants in the park there are hundreds of dogs that are also abandoned or rescued. We spent the day feeding, bathing, more feeding and watching the elephants in a

more natural habitat. You could tell they were all happy and treated well. It was a great experience and would recommend anyone either visit the park or support them financially with a donation if feasible.

After the mountains we were ready for some fun in the sun and headed down south. We could not find a direct mode of transportation, within our budget, so we took the overnight bus from Chiang Mia to Bangkok and from there the bus to Phuket Island. Phuket was a great little island and since it is not Thailand’s high season for tourists it was more tranquil than a raging party, which was really nice. We were only in Phuket for three days or so but we managed to devote this time to the beach. The beach near our hotel was nice but the second day in Phuket we went to Kata Beach, which was so beautiful. We spent the day laying out, and by that I mean on a beach chair under an umbrella since we are past our days of tanning and ruining our skin, swimming in the water with the tubes that we bought and drinking Maté, which is an Argentinean tea that Pablo and Vera were obsessed with. It was a

great day at the beach but I was getting restless and needed some excitement, I can only lay on the beach for so long. We met one of Kari’s friends from her time teaching with Berlitz in South America for a beer, she now lives in Phuket, and she recommended Krabi. We were off.

Krabi was beautiful. It was not like any other part of the world that I had ever been to with the hundreds of cliff style islands off the coast. You can’t help but be taken away by the landscape, and I quickly realized, the culture of Thailand and Krabi specifically. We were technically in a town maybe ten mintutes south called Ao Nang and it was the perfect spot to settle down in for about four days. Our hotel was much nicer than anything we had been staying at, we somehow got a deal online, and was nestled next to the mountains with a less than five minute drive down to the beach, which the hotel offered a free shuttle to every hour. We had Indian food for Pablo’s birthday the first night followed somehow by tequila shots at a bar called The Crazy Gringo. It was a fun night out with everyone but I had a great trip planned for the next day all for myself and could not wait to get to bed and awake to my adventure.

I rented a motorbike to tour around on for 200Baht for 24 hours, around $6.50. Kari would not get on the bike for the fear of her life, I understand that, but I had to get out and see some sights without relying on public transportation and figured as long as I wore a helmet and drove aware of my surroundings nothing too bad could happen, well nothing that could not already happen traveling as much as I do or living in Senegal; you forget, until you don’t have a car anymore, how liberating it can be. I started the morning talking to an absolutely useless woman at the community travel center to help tourists and after getting absolutely nowhere with her I decided to grab a map, hope for signs and get lost. I had all day and only a couple of things that I absolutely wanted to do so I figured I had plenty of time. Fairly easily I found what is known as Tiger Cave, which is a hike comparable to

Me at the beginning of my road trip,
Kari snagged a photo from the bus

Stairway To Heaven in Hawaii but not as long or scary; stairs heading up the side of a mountain leading to a temple at the top with breathtaking views of the region where apparently tigers used to occupy. I assumed that I was just in horrible shape considering how tired I was once I reached the top but heading back down there was more traffic than when I started and I quickly noticed it was everyone who was getting their butts kicked on the way up, which I felt a little better about. Since I had a swimsuit on and brought a towel I took the opportunity to dry my cloths over the railing while I rested drinking Gatorade (THAILAND HAS GATORADE! WHAT?) now that I think back on this situation, it was very Senegalese of me but I was the only one up there so I feel a little less guilty. After properly dressed I headed to the temple where there was a 360˚ view of the mountains, the coast and the city. There was a very loud buzzing noise that was heard from the top and after asking some Japanese tourists, and them translating it on their phone, it was coming from an insect called a cicada. While I had never heard of them I found their sound very peaceful but persistent at the same time. After the hike I was back on the bike to try and find the Shell Cemetary where slabs of mollusk fossils are found along the coast. Along the way I ran into a Fisheries Research and Development Center where tanks and ponds used to house and test marine species could be found. I specifically fell in love with a stingray that loved attention and was not afraid of people. The shell cemetery was great because it was home to fossil slabs that are over 75 million years old and were remains of snail shells that piled up on top of each other and cemented together by silicic matter. It was cool to see a little part of history. I stopped at a local market the way home to buy some snacks and since it as almost dark I decided to eat my lychee and mystery tea drink that was recommended by a vendor on Krabi beach while watching the sunset. The perfect day. The next morning I had a couple hours left with my motorbike so I could not think of any better thing than getting expensive, but worth it, McDonalds breakfast to eat on the beach before the tourists started to come out for the day. I still had some gas left so I drove up and down the coast for a couple hours until I had to return the bike at 10am. At one point I remember seeing a sign saying that Krabi was in 22 kilometers and I remember not feeling quite as calm or relaxed as I was in that moment than I have had in a long time, especially not since moving to Senegal which can be a very anxious place.

The next day we took a Hong Island day trip which actually consisted of multiple islands off the coast of Ao Nang which had proved to be even more beautiful than any other coastal parts of Thailand that we had been to thus far. Islands with steep cliffs, turquoise coves and blue waters were the sights of the day and with a local

On the boat during the islands tour

packed lunch on one of the islands we could not have asked for more beautiful surroundings for the day, though beautiful does not even begin subscribe it.

My last night Kari accompanied me to a sort of last minute tattoo expedition where I got a, planned just unknown as to where I wanted it, Black Capped Chickadee tattoo just under my collar bone in memory of my grandfather who had died while I was in Senegal. I got the tattoo using the traditional Thai bamboo method, which consisted of a needle tied and waxed onto a bamboo stick and then speared into my chest. Sounds more painful than it was and it is beautiful. The best part about it is that it catches the corner of my eye and reminds me of my grandfather and back home in general.

The crew headed to another part of Thailand while I took a van back to Bangkok to catch my flight back to Senegal; well to Ethiopia where my flight was delayed 12 hours and we got put up in a hotel with breakfast, lunch and dinner and then off to Senegal, but that was fine with me.

Thailand will have a special place in my heart and it is a country, and a part of a wonderful mysterious region of the world that I will be back to visit and explore. I have always had an attraction to Asia and I don’t know if it was because there is such an influence in Hawaii, my love for many Asian dishes or just the mere fact that I had never been but it was a great experience and I can’t wait to return. Thanks Kari for a great trip, take care and see you soon!

Until next time.

My New Pet Chicken

It seems like just yesterday that I was on a flight from Minneapolis to Honolulu writing a blog entry on my computer as I listened to a mix of airline provided music and the hustle and bustle of surrounding passengers. I was on my way to visit friends and family before heading off to Senegal to serve as a volunteer in the Peace Corps.  This year has proved to be quite different than what I had been expecting, though honestly I had no idea what I signed myself up for. I am left now, freezing on a plane with Ethiopian Airlines, flying to Bangkok, Thailand to take a break from my underdeveloped life, scratch this itch to travel, and catch up with, an oldie but goodie, friend.

The last few weeks at site had been sort of crazy as I prepared for vacation. Days were filled with tying up loose ends of projects to be as independent as possible

Nene (my mother) and I doing laundry before my
big trip to Thailand!!!

while I am gone and my nights entailed things such as either helping house stranded volunteers who could not make it back to site because of the seemingly never ending rain that the rainy season has brought or watching and attempting to name constellations and planets on the roof of Rachel and Kim’s (my new site mates- we have four Americans roaming around Velingara these days!) house concluding that we don’t know nearly enough about our solar system and reverted to an iPhone app to pinpoint stars of interest.

My last day at site before my trip to Dakar was spent in the usual pre-trip manner of cleaning, laundry and dishes and those not so usual, debating about the difference between China and Japan with my host brother and a visit to a village where my business training session was being duplicated. Speaking of that, my thank you present for holding the training was a chicken, alive and well which is how I plan on keeping him though my family looks at him as their next meal. I asked the village what his name was and they said Gertogal, which means chicken in Pulaar and when

Gorko and I on our bike ride home 

I explained that I knew how to say chicken in local language and wanted to know what they call him they told me Gorko, which means man. Wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his name but I went with it and biked home the 3k to my house with his legs tied together to my handlebars. My mother and grandmother, who is in her 90’s I would like to remind you, were speechless when they saw me ride up to the house, muddy of course because it is rainy season, with a chicken tied to my bike. They just laughed while I told my grandmother “si o falla namude okarah makko mbotugol” (if he is hungry give him lunch (I could’t think of the general term for food and lunch got my point across) and “si a lappi makko, mi lappi ma” (if you hit him, I will hit you). She used her hand to cover her mouth in her usual way while laughing and my mom continued on preparing the break fast meal of coffee and bread.

I told myself that I would finish the grant for my chicken feed project before I left for Thailand but with predictably unpredictable events things got a little delayed and I am left trying to email grant questions to my counterpart, Cissé, in hopes that he can make it to an internet café to check his email and respond. A prime example of things not going as expected and causing delay in the project timeline came this last week when my counterpart traveled from Tambacounda to my town of Velingara (about two hours by public transportation not counting waiting times to fill up a car) to see some machinery that will grind and mix ingredients into feed. Cissé called the owner of the machine the night prior in hopes to have the trip go as smoothly as possible, which just proved that no matter what you do you can never truly be prepared. We met the man in town and went out to the abandoned house where the machinery rests to find out that the man did not have the key and in fact it was locked inside the building. There were two problems that I had with these statements, one being how is a key locked inside of a building where you would need the key to lock in the first place and two, why didn’t you mention this minor detail last night when Cissé called you? Not only did he waste my time but he also wasted Cissé’s time and money, paying for a trip out of his own pocket only to look at one of the two machines from 15 feet away through a metal fence. Now at this point I have been in Africa long enough that even though I find myself frustrated or feeling awkward in certain situations it is in fact because I am American and nine out of ten times the Africans that I am usually in the situation with don’t even seemed concerned or phased (I say Africans instead of Senegalese because these characteristics stretch further than the borders of Senegal). This being said I was just approached the situation as ‘oh you don’t have a key, ok, we will come back later’ thinking that is what Cissé was thinking when in fact he is a little more western that I had originally given him credit for. As we walked away from the situation Cissé literally said to me “ugh, Africans”, though being an African himself, while later explaining to the guy that he had called him prior for a reason and next time he comes he wants the key in his hand when he confirms a date. Peace Corps volunteers love those characteristics in a counterpart. We are used to working and interacting with people on a professional level in a certain way in The United States, which is very different than how most things are done here in Africa. If we land upon a counterpart that respects meeting times and does their fare share of project tasks we are beaming and, if they do most of the project work like Cissé has been doing, we are enthusiastic and that much more excited about the project. Hopefully the airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia has Wi-Fi so I can hold up my end of the bargain to get the grant sent out as soon as possible. And I say hopefully they have internet because, as a small side story, last night while staying at Trevon’s house I told him that I was going to try and get some work done before my flight on the internet because I assumed the airport had internet and he started laughing so hard saying that he would be surprised if the airport had internet at all and that I forgot where we live. He had a very valid point but since a handful of people in the security line felt like cutting because their business was apparently more important than anyone else’s it took forever to get to the “gate” and I didn’t have much spare time. An interesting observation on that is that the most unsurprising part of that situation was nobody seemed annoyed at the fact that people were cutting in line! I know I sound like I am five but cutting in line! Seriously? Are we in middle school? Between that and the fact that there is no sense of personal space I was more than happy to get on the plane with my seat and its predetermined area of space with my book and headphones.

This leaves me to where I am now; on a 23-hour adventure to Bangkok, to a completely different world from where I live, where I am from and the area in between where I find myself now, surrounded by people who either really don’t get international airline/airport etiquette or have never been on the plane before and it is just about anyone’s guess as to which one, but life is good.

My Day of Ramadan

I was called the other day by a good friend in country, Lisa, who was telling me how she was going to try and fast for a couple of days with her family. We are in the middle of Ramadan and while we were here last year for this event that millions around the world partake in, I usually don't think twice about it, for I relate it to something Muslims do and since I am not Muslim I didn’t see how I could get involved. Though I am pretty sure I could fast for the whole month if I really wanted to the fact remains that I don’t want to and, honestly, I don’t have to. I think there is something respectful to be said about someone who understands and shows empathy for those who have less, or nothing so I decided to partake in the challenge for the day and drag Alexx along with me because, why not? We set a day, I made sure to have a clear schedule and our minds were made up, lets fast.

July 17, 2013

4:45am My alarm is going off, kind of eager to start this challenge for the day that, thankfully being born into the family that I was, is so unknown to me.

5:00am My brother knocks on my door – I eat leftovers from dinner the night before, bread and coffee as the morning meal that Muslims are permitted before the sun rises. Nene, Abidina and Ouseman join in while Ablaye (the two year old) seemed wide awake and called for coffee while in bed, does he ever sleep?

5:24am I am eating two bananas and drinking a half-liter of water before heading back to bed to have somewhat of a healthy meal before the fast- this will be the last that my stomach will know for more than twelve hours.

5:29am Just got off the pone with Lisa and Alexx to make sure they were up and in this with me- they both were pleasantly awake and reassured me that they were too off to bed and would call later once they were needing some mental preoccupation.

5:34am Crawling into bed feeling and

Breaking fast with my family and site mates (left-right: Jordan,
Mari, Kim, Me, Nene)

pretty full. Not like Thanksgiving full but ate-and-drank-way-too-much-at-happy-hour full. Not complaining.

6:08am Going to try and get some sleep – since coffee was on the menu I was wide-awake entirely too early to actually start my day and had decided to watch an episode of Sex and the City.

6:45am Going to the bathroom, expected.

7:30am Going to the bathroom, not again!

9:35am Going to the bathroom, do I have a bladder infection?

10:50am Convincing myself to get out of bed to run some errands around town. Other than the expected fatigue, I am feeling fine at this point so I figured I should at least be productive.

12:13pm Home from errands, finally have a new gas tank, and I am thirsty. It is starting to hit though it is still more than manageable at this point. I better go read or something to keep my mind preoccupied from how hungry I assume I am going to start to become.

1:27pm Tired and a lack of energy, which is how I feel now. I want to keep reading so that I can be done with this American classic, Little Women, which everyone seems to love but I can’t seem to get into. I should have planned better to be reading a book I actually want to read while trying to preoccupy my mind.

2:06pm First stomach growl. That wasn’t too bad and later than I had expected.

5:26pm I have tried to occupy myself with a movie, talking on the phone, visiting Jordan at her house, though she was not home, and now I am left to watching Nene cook the break fast meal and dinner. Pure torture. I am not looking at the food as something to eat but more so looking at the water that they wash the dishes, rinse the vegetables, or boil to cook the rice in as some novelty item. I am beyond thirsty. The second it turns time to break fast I am dumping a bucket of water on my head!

6:12pm I would compare my level of thirst right now to the children that you see on tv drinking dirty pond water because they have no other option, I would drink pond water if given the chance.

7:02pm Jordan has done a great job of trying to keep my mind busy the last hour with her visit to my house, though it has not entirely worked. I am beyond thirsty. Mouth full of sand thirsty. Almost done.

7:34pm And it is time. Dates are being passed around but since I don’t like them, too artificial for me with all the stuff they add to them, mostly sugar, when they sell them here, I passed and went straight for my buttered bread, coffee and ice cold water. Water has just about never tasted so good, maybe after a long bike ride when you are dripping sweat, but it is still pretty nice right now. My brother looks over at me and says words like “cool” and “nice” which somehow made their way into the local language meaning “how is it going”. It was a pretty peaceful moment, I found my self dazing off being thankful for all I have, all that I have accomplished and being able to break fast with my family while actually knowing what it feels like to not eat or drink all day.

7:51pm Content, happy and satisfied with how I feel right now. Though people fast during Ramadan for religious purposes there is a population, especially among Peace Corps volunteers, that fast for the sake of solidarity, not just between us and our families but us and those around the world that go without food and water every day. Though it was only one day I now have a better understanding for what it is like to look at someone eating or drinking something, while they are not thinking much about it, and thinking how I would love to be in their shoes.

9:07pm Full. Just finished dinner and can’t imagine putting another bite in my stomach, this is what I had been waiting for all day but seem too full to be satisfied. Why can’t I seem to find a healthy balance?

In summary, Ramadan, which is the ninth month of the Muslim calendar, is celebrated during the entirety of the month each year throughout the Muslim population. Since the calendar is lunar the month of fasting results in varying dates each year. I don’t want to make blanket statements or spit facts about the population among us that go hungry and thirsty each day because I don’t know them. I do know that there is something that each of us can do to help those less fortunate have access to things such as clean drinking water, something we consider so basic and a right in America and take advantage of every day. So I would like to give you this challenge, friends and family, do good. Buy coffee for the person behind, bring fresh flowers to your neighbor, or send a note to a long lost friend. I know it is in you, I have faith.

Invasion of the Grasshoppers

Work. There is a wide interpretation of what exactly the term means and how exactly it is supposed to fit into the activities that compromise the tasks of our daily schedule. Is pulling yourself out of bed to say hi to your counterparts family considered work? Is walking to the market just to make yourself seen for the day so that the masses don’t start to suspect that you skipped town considered work? Is meeting with the local womens group because they have a business idea that they

My nephew trying on my glasses

think is worth financing but you know otherwise considered work? Is blogging so that friends and family back home can have a small idea of what you are up to during this period of our lives considered work? Well if you ask about anyone here in Peace Corps we would say that yes all of the above are considered work, well there may be some debate on the last one, and even the smallest tasks like leaving your house take more effort than the 9-5 we once held.

At the moment I am finding myself doing anything but, including blogging, what I am supposed to be doing which is writing the lesson plans for the training sessions with my youth project. I thought it would be sort of an effortless task, not easy but surly not requiring this much concentration and premeditated thoughts. I actually Googled phrases such as “how to write a lesson plan” and “common lesson plan mistakes” before starting the process because I found myself stuck somewhere between naming the lesson and writing the objectives. I would like to use my phone-a-friend lifeline and call either Sarah Gunderson (previously Kvasnicka) or Erica Schumacher (previously Cain) (damn, all my friends are getting married and it is mildly depressing how life in America is moving along without me, I will have to touch on this in another post) who, I am pretty sure, could write a lesson plan in their sleep. I knew I should have paid attention while watching them write these things during our Bachelor/homework session nights in college. Anyway, I think they are coming along considerably more than when I first started. Who would have thought that when I applied to the Peace Corps I wanted to save babies and work with HIV/AIDS, got into Peace Corps thinking I was going to be working with economic development and arrived in Velingara, Senegal finding projects where I am acting as a teacher and translator.

I can officially, and finally, say that rainy season is officially here! With the rains come things such as mangoes, pleasant sleeping weather, flooded streets and grasshoppers (well they could be crickets, I honestly don’t know the difference). I have learned so many random facts while living here, the kind of facts that you blurt out at happy hour that strike a conversation ending with “how did we get on that topic?” and one of them was that grasshoppers are attracted to light. Well it was more of a life lesson. When trying to rid my room of the couple of grasshoppers before bed one night I noticed that my room quickly became infested with them hopping around. For every one that I got out of my room two more jumped in not having the common decency to at least not jump all over me. At one point I was literally laughing, sounding and looking like a crazy person I am sure, while they were seemingly attacking and throwing themselves at me as the kids in my family were just laughing from a distance because they were actually afraid of them. My brother rushed over, shut off my light, found a flashlight and started smashing them and throwing them out of my room. Who would have thought the only reason why they were in my room was because my door was open and a light was on, of course they felt welcomed. I have turned it into a game of sorts, catching them in my room and throwing them to the chickens that then chase them around like a chicken with their head cut off. Weird. I am hoping that in exchange for the free food that I am providing them they will stop pooping in front of my door because I really don’t appreciate it. Jordan, my sitemate, is convinced that they have no control over where they hop around considering they jump at our faces and into buckets of water and drown.

I received two more packages from my parents, and some lovely coconut peanut butter from Bird- thanks for that! I honestly don’t know what I would do without them, well I bet I would become one of those bitter volunteers that never receives packages or mail and thinks that their friends and family back home actually forgot that they up and left America to serve in a third world country. A few of the package contents included new toothbrushes (YAY!), candy (which I am bribing small children with and it is working), tuna packages (which I hated in America and now can’t seem to get enough of it- I put it on some bread, with some egg whites and mustard and it makes a great sandwich) clicky pens (no more loosing caps and the ink drying out, ever!), granola bars (always good for snacking or an easy breakfast and I don’t have to share because there is not nearly enough sugar in one for someone to actually want one) and underwear (a year in the heat and rain does some inconceivable damage on the delicates). Thanks again family, my first million will go to you!

It is about lunchtime so I am going to wrap up this chitchat session because the smell of fish balls (like meatballs but with fish) is wafting its way in my room and making me rather hungry. Stay classy America. xoxo

One Year Down, One Year To Go!

About a year ago I left the life that I had built for myself in Minneapolis and moved to Senegal to join the Peace Corps, before making a quick stop to my second home in Hawaii to visit friends and family. The anniversary of my presence here has made me reflect on how amazing my life was before I left it, how great my life is here now, even though I am living in less than dreamy conditions, and how after this experience the world is in my hands and I will have endless opportunities, whether they are career related or not is a whole different story.

Honesty is the best policy they always say, whomever “they” are, and if we are being honest I should probably start off with why I am in Senegal. I joined the Peace Corps, come to find out like many other people, as a result of running away from something. I am sure it is a combination of a few things like a shitty economy, taking a break from student loans, unhealthy relationships and America in general and if you have the passion to help people, like to live abroad and have the means to for a couple of years the Peace Corps is for you. I am not saying that it is easy; it definitely is anything but easy.

This past year I have cried to language tutors because the difficulties of learning a language that is so different from any other studied, been thrown into a family and culture that I knew almost nothing about, had countless conversations with people where I had no idea what they said or who they were. I have missed weddings, birthdays, funerals, births and who knows what else as a result of this passion, this piece of me that feels unsettled in a place if I get too settled. I delete the Career Builder emails showcasing the latest jobs that I am so called qualified for while missing, or putting off rather, the chance to get that next great promotion with the company that I started off as an intern. With all the bad comes the good and though Senegal makes it really hard to love sometimes, there have been good times; I have watched my host brother grow up from an infant to an actual little person with opinions, I have watched volunteers COS (close of service – after you finish your two years) and have shared what knowledge I do have with those who are just arriving, I have seen the look on peoples faces when I express my interest and support for their projects and felt their genuine appreciation, I have shared both the joys and miseries of public transportation with locals and volunteers all of whom agree that it is anything but relaxing, I have taught my little sister important English phrases such as “I like school” and “I eat rice” (well, it was the first thing I could think of), I have celebrated at weddings at baptisms as a member of the neighborhood, I have relaxed and drank wine on beaches with friends when I just had to get out of site and shared food with ten other people at one little bowl all the while never feeling more like a part of the family than that very moment.

My little host brother, Ablaye, trying to see what I was up to in my room.

Not only are we reflecting on our personal lives and experiences in the past year but we are also looking back and evaluating our level of productivity as a volunteer. One thing that is difficult for some people, and I can concede to this, is how to manage not being micro-managed and responsible for not only the success of your projects but creating them in the first place. Though I have not been as productive as I wanted to the first year, things are just naturally slower here and I need to recognize that, I have another year to make the difference that I came here intending to make.

While on the topic of work and being more productive I have an announcement my fellow readers – my World Connect grant got approved!!!! So exciting I know! Which one you may ask? It is the project where I will be working with youth groups in the Department of Velingara (almost like a county) to hold training sessions for representative of the youth groups who will then re-teach the information in the subjects of business, health, agriculture and waste management. I have a meeting this morning with my work partner in the project to start setting dates, training curriculum and desired professionals to help with the sessions. Work is on the up and up and this is just the beginning of a great second year. Watch out Senegal, big things are happening in Velingara!

Name that artist:

…we’d like to help you learn to help yourself

look around you all you see are sympathetic eyes

stroll around the grounds until you feel at home…

Good luck and talk to you next time. xoxo

Career Advice Anyone?

What should I do with my life? This is always a question that seems to be in my head and it seems that no matter what stage I am in life I am always researching and weighing my options. I have not quite figured out if this a good thing or not but I am pretty sure my OCD is more helpful than hurtful. Right?

My year mark in country is fast approaching, less than two weeks, and I am left reflecting on what exactly I have accomplished this past year, granted two of the months I was in training and the three months after that I was not allowed to work, merely work on my language. There seems to be an abundance of projects, ethical hardworking counterparts seem to be scarce and available funds becomes a question of community dedication and contribution to a project. All of these factors need to come together seamlessly to have a successful project and it seems as though we are failing more than we are being successful. I am not saying that projects are outright failing, but they may not attract the correct people or the project may never be sustainable and will soon be forgotten after the volunteer returns home.

A little boy in the back seat of the car on the way to Tamba
was passed out sleeping pretty much on my shoulder.
Apparently his mother's lap did not provide ample space. Too cute.

There is a culture within Peace Corps that makes it ok, though there is always a few that think otherwise, if things don’t go as planned. You are not looked at differently if a project fails because of outside factors (no financial or demonstrative support from community as an example) or if you decide that Peace Corps is not for you or not what you want at this point in your life. Working in development is not as quick or easy as anyone who has never worked in development may think. I am not making excuses for projects taking months to accomplish while if located in the states could get worked out in a month or two but things take time here and between the corruption and getting things passed through all the chains in command it is inevitable.

As an excellent example, I am still waiting on funds from the city to support our waste management project from going bankrupt. There is a portion of the city budget for “waste removal” so it would only make sense that since we are one of two waste removal operations we would receive some of the funds; since the mayor really likes money, a nice new office building and house we are not seeing any money. My boss with the Peace Corps actually came to my site this past weekend to have an impromptu meeting with the mayor (so he could not skip out of town, seriously) to ask him about funding and of course it is blamed on the city not having a lot of money and people not paying taxes. We were promised to have the money in the next couple of months so I am literally playing a waiting game. There is not much I can do but ensure that trash is collected each day and that nothing serious happens to my little donkey or cart because we have no funds to replace or fix anything. Part of the problem is the fact that people are only paying 500CFA (equivalent to $1.00) for the service each month and a business can’t survive or become profitable with those numbers. Don’t worry I have changed the price to 1000CFA, or $2.00, for new customers and things are changing, and in time it will work out. It just takes time.

I started working on a new project with a fellow CEDer (volunteer who works in the same sector as me – Community Economic Development), Jennifer Connor, who lives about two hours north of me. She has a counterpart in her city of Tamba, Sidio Cisse, who raises chickens and travels all over the country to do training sessions on all sorts of topics related to chickens; raising chickens, chicken health, chicken food, you get the point. If we can achieve funding ($33,000 for the cheaper plan B version of the project) we are going to start producing chicken feed in Tamba so people don’t have to make the eight hour trip north to the capitol to buy feed or pay excessive amounts of money down south for a simple product just because the market is owned by one company. We will have a cheaper, local, better product available for sale to businesses and consumers. Never thought I would be this excited about a project dealing with chicken food but it is really interesting and Sidio is very passionate and one can’t help but get excited about something he is so excited about. Since I am a couple hours away, if transportation goes as planned though it did take me 6 hours to get home from there this last weekend, I will make the trip a couple of times a month to ensure things are on track and of course I will work with him on a more regular basis via phone and email. Updates to come.

I talked about a large garden project funded by USAID a while back and now that the rains are coming, FINALLY, I can see more activity and promise in the project in the near future. I am partnering with my two site mates, Jordan who is in agriculture and Rachel who is in health, to make the project beneficial in more than one area. We are going to hold trainings on how to prepare certain foods that are nutritious and such to ensure that the women are getting the most out of their produce and my job is going to involve setting up a stand in the market to sell the produce and market the products. The market is comprised of rows and rows of tables selling the exact same thing so with a little product differentiation, competitive product pricing and good marketing we should have no problem selling our produce and products transformed to goods while hopefully turning a profit.

If you were an animal this is how you would travel in country,
stuffed in a rice sack and tied on top of a car. They seem
used to it and don't mind.

I am still waiting on funding for my possible youth project, providing trainings and activities to youth during summer vacation. We submitted the grant the end of April and a decision was supposed to be made in May but a few of the projects that requested funding, mine included, were required to submit more information and a final decision would be made in mid June. Another waiting game though since this project has a time restraint it would be nice to have the trainings while the kids are still actually on summer break.

Meanwhile life is going pretty good, I can’t complain too much. I am mostly content and happy in my village and work is there, it is slow moving but present at least. I know I will always be tempted and excited to search for careers when I get internet but there is no harm in looking or being prepared. I am actually reading the biography of Steve Jobs at the moment and would do anything to work in the philanthropic arm of Apple, someday hopefully. So if anyone knows of great organizations hiring great people (that’s me) feel free to comment! Take care everyone, until next time.

Cheers.

...with my flippy floppies

Last week I made the trip up north, about twelve hours from my village by car, to attend Jazz Fest 2013 in St. Louis. This annual festival is opportunity for many volunteers to get out of site, hang out with those volunteers that they may not see too often and do those American things that we all so much miss; wear shorts (still long by American standards), drink beer and speak English. Since transportation logistics make it impossible for me to make the journey in one day I spent the night in Tambacounda at the regional house on my way up north. I got to see a few of the new volunteers that were just arriving in site and also a few friends from my region just happen to be at the house, it sure is great seeing people again. I forgot how long I had been at site, it was a much needed break. Eli, Jonathan and I had about an ten hour ride to get to St. Louis but the trip went about as smoothly as you could plan, which is always great. There was an incident of wrapping a tube that was in the engine with tape but I am sure we were not going to blow up or anything. Right? We arrived in time for me to meet up with Hattie at a local restaurant, she had just finished teaching a class and while waiting I had no problem taking pleasure in pizza and Wi-Fi, a real treat. We ended up meeting Marsha from our stage along with some other volunteers for dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant on the north side of the island. I can’t even remember a time when I had such delicious cuisine, calamari with a spicy curry sauce over a bed of rice. To die for. We walked back to the center of town, each of us eating more than necessary requiring a walk for proper digestion, looking for music on the main stage but since there was an entrance fee we figured the festivities could wait until the weekend. I spent the night with Marsha in her room; she is always so welcoming to those of us who were homeless due to our reservation being for the next night. Again I was spoiled with Wi-Fi, a comfortable bed and the sound of the ocean breeze as I feel asleep (Marsha is serving as a volunteer after a successful career she has more money that the average just-out-of-college volunteer and can splurge on a room on the beach and there are a couple of us that reap the benefits). The next day, Friday, Marsha and I spent walking around “downtown” on the island, eating lunch at a wonderful local restaurant, admiring the merchandise in a cheese shop (we don’t even have cheese at my site let alone a whole store dedicated to the luxury item) and shopping around for an elusive Senegal patch to add to my collection. Julia, Jenn and Lisa from my stage arrived in town around 3pm so I stayed in town to meet up with them as Marsha went back to her room to prepare for the festivities that were to follow that evening. The girls grabbed a bite to eat at a local café and I sipped on a café au lait, which is also nonexistent at my site. If you have not already picked up on the pattern, time spent in the big city is consumed with eating and drinking things we don’t have at site, wasting countless hours online until you can repeat your newsfeed from Facebook or have memorized all the top stories on cnn.com and catching up with friends. We went back to our rooms to nap before heading out for the night that just ended up with Julia and I talking in our room until it was time to start getting ready. Alexx was supposed to also be in our room but flew back to America last minute to be with her family after the passing of her uncle. He was, in part, the reason why we shaved our heads, allowing us to raise money and awareness for Lymphoma. My thoughts go out to her and her family during this hard time. That night we headed to the “the boat” to listen to live music and drink wine like the classy people that we are not these days. The boat was about four levels and looked like it could be used as a river cruise, or somewhere with mild seas, and the whole time I could not help but sing random lyrics to the song "I'm on a boat". The music and bar were on the top deck, which provided chilly weather and a great view over the water and the bridge that was lit up for the festival. It was truly a beautiful site and I would have never thought I would have experienced something in my time here in Senegal. Saturday we indulged in a cheap breakfast, the usual but delicious pea sandwich, before heading into town to walk around. We ended up shopping at the “fukiji” which are basically tables or sheets sprawled out with used clothing from the west or Europe. Unless we want to walk around in traditional African ensembles we rely on this supply of cheap western clothing to supplement for the wear and tear that the cloths that we brought from America go through. And you can find name brand items for the equivalent of $2 or cheaper. After some more American type dishes for lunch we headed back to hotel for another nap before the night festivities, which ended with Julia and I watching Downton Abbey (great show if you have never seen it, I highly recommend, it is on BBC). While heading back into town we decided to stop and grab a glass of wine before heading to the boat and it may have ended up being one of the best choices we had made all weekend. We ended up at La Résidence, a hotel downtown that was in our budget for happy hour but not lodging. A band was warming up but there was a great wine list and free appetizers floating around so we decided to stay. The atmosphere was great, the service was the best that I have seen in all of Senegal and I was in great company, it was fabulous. Not surprisingly we went back to the boat for more music and wine after our hotel adventure and it was just as delightful from the night before. As the weekend progressed more and more volunteers were coming into town, it was great seeing people from other stages and sectors (health or agriculture) that I don’t see on a regular basis. We ended the night at a bar with buy one get one free Gazelle beers, horrible tasting by American standards but does the trick if you need something cold and beer like. Sunday morning Teni arrived in town and we took her downtown to show her around and, if ulterior motives must be known, have another café au lait. A few students from Howard University, DC were in town to perform in the festival, a couple of my friends are alumni of the university so they stayed and had a drink with

the band while Julia and I did what any other respectable Peace Corps Volunteer would do in a city, eat ice cream and sit along the water. It was great talking to her one on one, though we were in the same stage I don’t get to see her nearly enough and being that we both come from islands (myself Hawaii and her from St. Croix) we needed a little ocean breeze time. Our hostel is about a 20-minute walk from the center of downtown, and close to where the boat is located, so our walk back to nap gave us ample opportunity to walk off the ice cream and shop a little more. May I add all this shopping resulted in just looking, there were things that I would love to buy and there were things that were the same tourist crap that you can find anywhere but the thought of lugging it back to site makes one not want to buy anything. Our nap, also known as another episode of Downton Abbey, ended too soon as we were to get cleaned up for dinner with other volunteers for Lily’s birthday. A few of us thought it would be best to go back to La Résidence for drinks and live music and next thing you know there were a dozen of us drinking too many $10 bottles of their finest (cheapest) red and eating homemade banana bread, thanks for that Karen! Our waiter was the same from the night before and at this point we were on first name basis with him, Moussa. For a couple of hours I felt like I was in a European city with people that I have known for years, you would have never thought we had all just met a year ago. It makes me realize 1) how great the people are here that I am sharing this experience with 2) how much I do miss my friends and family back home and 3) how I do love a nation full of citizens with a disposable income. We had to be at the main stage by 9pm to listen to Howard University, to show our American support, and of course we were late and of course the show didn’t start until 10. They opened with some boys from the military school in Dakar, whom honestly looked like Boy Scouts in their hats and uniforms, and infused a slam poet and a local drummer in some of their later pieces. The performance was great and though I am not usually a jazz fan they put on a great performance and the music was a great change from what we normally hear. There was a Tunisian

Dhafer Youssef

band on as the final act and I was so impressed by him I bought some of his music on iTunes. His name is Dhafer Youssef, the combination of the instruments along with his voice made for a great sound. I am trying to get a video up of the above-mentioned acts but since internet speed is so slow it is proving to take forever. I will keep working on it; stay posted. We took the Howard boys out for some drinks and dancing after their performance and though the night ended too soon, the morning was proving to come too early for our trip back south. Jenn and I left St. Louis Monday morning, around 7am, to get a jump on our voyage back. I am 12 hours south and she is 10 so we often make a majority of the trip back together; we stopped half way in Kaolack since I would not have been able to finish the trip in a day. I know I mention this in probably just about every post but if anything this adventure has made me realize how great my life is back home. I have a great family, an amazing network of friends and endless opportunities for my career. I am thankful to be born and raised in such a great country. This post may have been a little staler than others, it is more of an message for update than a message inspired by something, but thank to for those following, it truly is an adventure.

Do Handouts Actually Help?

My counterpart Amadou asked me the other night why I had [student loan] debt when my country spends so much money on education in other countries. I must say I was more troubled that an uneducated man in Senegal made this realization on his own than the fact that we can’t even get our own politicians on board with the notion of affordable secondary education. This question, and the fact that Peace Corps Senegal is celebrating 50 years in country this year, made me think about how valuable our money and time is being spent here in Africa. We are one of the longest standing programs in all of Peace Corps and we have a lot to show for it. Thousands of people around the world can say that they have made Senegal their home for a small period in their life, worked to improve development in the country and were given the opportunity to better understand and integrate with local culture. With all the projects the Peace Corps has been involved with there has been those that required no funding (or funding from our own stipends) and there have been those that benefited from grants, from not only American organizations but those all around the world. With all the money that we are seeing being pumped into Africa we are left with the question, do handouts actually help?

Handouts may be a strong word, though it is a synonym of aid according to the dictionary on my computer, but after working in Velingara for around nine months I feel that it is more than suitable. Right after you install they always say that work is slow but projects will come and I would have to agree. The first few months that I was in Velingara I had a little more on my plate than the average Jo because I had the project that my predecessor started, but it was by no means enough to fill my time. I went from working 50 hours plus a week in Minneapolis to about five hours a week in Senegal, if I was lucky, and it was a difficult adjustment. Though it sounds like a great time to sleep in, catch up on the news or read the latest books, any normal person would go crazy after about a week of this schedule. But there comes a time at site that everything just seems to come together, language is better, you have some sort of a routine and the projects are seemingly endless. With these endless projects comes endless questions and headaches concerning how exactly you are going to get these great ideas off the ground, also known as who is going to pay for it?

The approach to aid is different depending on the organization but here is a bit of information based on my experience with the Peace Corps. There are many options for funding projects depending on the project, who the beneficiaries are and the time of year. It is almost too easy to write a grant and submit it to Peace Corps to get help in funding through a few different donors requiring very little on the side of the local population. Sure the grants require a community contribution, usually 25%, but these donations can be in-kind so it usually ends up being lodging (people staying with family) or training rooms (grab the nearest empty classroom). The community contribution was meant to make the community accountable and provide for some of the project but as you can see it doesn’t really prove to be demanding on their part, financially or otherwise.

Though I have personally written a grant for a project I don’t necessarily believe in handing out money for things that the community should be able to pay for, it is just that I am already asking money from the Mayor’s Office and didn’t want my youth project to affect the chances of funding for my other projects. I have worked with the Mayor’s Office a lot recently trying to secure funding for our waste management project (which is officially broke and I just found out that we were not a registered business though everyone told me we were- remind me to blog about lying later) and I have seen plenty of room within the city budget, if it were managed properly, to allocate money to these small scale projects that benefit the community. One major reason why the city does not have as much funding as they desire is a simple concept that is usually a hit or miss with the audience, taxes. Though they are not fun to pay, nobody complains when primary education is free, a road is repaired, a park is built or a homeless family is fed. We as Peace Corps Volunteers work with securing funding for projects similar to those listed, things that the community members and governing parties should be responsible for paying for but don’t. As a result of poor management and lack of country revenue generated from the population, countries from all over the world not only help these suffering communities with projects but straight up give cash to governments having faith that they will then allocate the funds rightfully. As we see right here in Senegal 1) mainly the capital city, along with a few other cities few and far between, have paved roads, 2) every household is required to pay dues for their children to go to school to cover institutional costs and if the family is poor don’t count on their children being educated, 3) parks are nothing more than shaded areas of sand to be kept clean by community groups who are sick of looking at the trash and 4) families who are unable to eat are left with begging, or starving, as there are not many other options.

This anniversary of Peace Corps Senegal has left me with questions of how much of an impact are we actually having here? If we are in fact doing as much good as we think we are why have we been here for 50 years and why are we still needed for years to come? Why have basic systems, education and tax comes to mind first, not developed in a way to improve and help society? Why have we not created enough leaders or sustainable projects that we are forced to have volunteers year after year in the same villages? Why do people continue to think and use us as a financial crutch without any desire to become independent?

I have been researching the impact that aid is having in Africa and I must stay that though the results vary there is a big consensus that we are doing more harm than good, and I can’t agree more. Daniel Hannan wrote a blog post, Stop giving us aid, say Africans, where he interviewed a Nigerian man, Thompson Ayodele, concerning aid in Africa. “It discourages enterprise, fosters dependency and bolsters corrupt regimes” he explains, later stating that, “never mind that aid shields recipient governments from the consequences of their policy failures: the key thing, for Lefties, is to show that you're a caring person.” Hannan replies with a tangible argument, “the trouble is that if conservatives announced that they were going to cut overseas aid budgets, not everyone would believe that they were doing so as a result of Thompson's cogent philosophy. They would be accused, rather, of doing it because they were selfish or because they didn't care about people whose skins were darker than theirs. Hence, perhaps, my party's determination, at a time of general economic retrenchment, explicitly to guarantee the international development budget against future cuts.” His points in the article are spot on and proves that though we all have it in our hearts to want to help we need to decide what is actually helping, no matter what the critics say. Dambisa Moyo, a Zambian economist, states in the article Stop giving aid to Africa. It’s just not working on nrc.nl that “development aid simply doesn’t work…it is supposed to lead to sustainable economic growth and a reduction in poverty. Name one African country where this has happened.” When asked what are the consequences of aid she states that “first and foremost the widespread corruption. The people in power plunder the treasury and the treasury is filled with development aid money. The corruption has contaminated the whole society. Aid leads to bureaucracy and inflation, to laziness and inertia. Aid hurts exports. Thanks to foreign aid the people in power can afford not to care about their people. But the worst part of it is: aid undermines growth. The economies of those countries that are the most dependent on foreign aid have shrunk by an average of 0.2 percent per year ever since the seventies.” Moyo’s approach to the problem is to pull aid all together stating that, “only the elite will feel the pain. The poor won’t even notice the difference. It’s not like they ever saw any of that money anyway.”

Development is much more complex than giving money to fund projects in small villages. There must be sustainability within projects, knowledge learned and kept in the community, a sense of ownership for the project and financial involvement by local authorities. The research that I have done lately made me believe in what we are doing here but maybe we should be giving less money to governments to do with as they please and spend more of it on our own citizens. There are many more articles just like these ones and I challenge you to go out and do your own research on the topic.

*Repost this blog, email it to a friend, or mention it in social media if you want to help keep some of the money we send overseas in our own country, specifically working towards making education affordable.

Soccer Tournament and Earth Day

My youth project has officially started, even though we have not received funding yet but that is another story, and I must say our soccer tournament last week was a success; the tournament was programmed for seven youth groups in Velingara to be held over a period of three days. The tournament started on Sunday, April 15th with a series of three games, six teams included for the day’s festivities. The program was intended to be simple and low budget, which I think we pulled off quite well. The first two days of games, the second being on Tuesday, April 16th, required no funding besides a soccer ball that was budgeted but had to be purchased early due to the ball splitting open when someone kicked it shortly after the game started, obviously hindering play. It was a lot of fun watching the soccer games and it was great to see some competition amongst the youth while letting loose and having fun. I would have loved to have music, beverages or something to make the tournament more tournament-like but I didn’t want to come across as the rich American throwing money around for things that aren’t needed. I already have a hard enough time convincing people that 1) I don’t have thousands of dollars in my bank account, 2) I can’t afford to fly you to America 3) I am not going to marry you so you can get a visa and live in America and 4) I had to work hard to have what I have and be where I am today. Even with the lack of showy things the first two days of the tournament it was still fun; we had a turnout of about 60 youth each day. The third day, Sunday, April 21st, was not only the day of the final match but also the day before Earth Day; we arranged a little city cleanup project amongst some of the youth organizations in celebration. Considering how last minute and how things-will-just-fall-into-place people are, things went pretty well. The plan for the clean up project was to have a youth association sweep a section of their part of town where we would then have a dump truck come around to the sites to pick up the waste and dispose of it at the site where our waste management project dumps our waste. The morning of, Abdoul, the guy who is the president of youth activities here who had helped me with writing the grant, called me to tell me that sweeping had begun at École 2 (a school in town) and that I should head over. Upon arriving at école 2 I was both surprised and excited that Abdoul had paid for a DJ and sound system with his own money (I think and hope) to build excitement amongst the youth and community for Earth Day. I spoke a little bit with everyone helping, expressing how much I appreciate them participating in both the tournament and the clean up and since this particular youth association was in the finals they were more than happy to help! After a few minutes I left to go to the center of town to check out the other sites where the youth organizations were sweeping. There were six sites in total; école 2, the garage (transportation hub), the main road through town, in front of the big mosque and the two other sites were random streets located in the sections of town where the youth groups lived. The group that was located on the main road is a truly amazing group, with a great organizational president, who actually do clean ups in their neighborhood every Sunday because they want to. There receive no money or recognition, they just appreciate the way their neighborhood looks after sweeping; a great example for the community, of sustainable development and what a community can and should do once they receive needed skills and tools. A dump truck was supposed to come around to each section of town but since we didn’t have any tools to put the garbage physically into the truck my work partner Amadou, as well as some

association leaders, thought it would be a better idea to just go with the usual approach to disposing of trash, burning it. While I suggested throwing the trash into the dump truck with hands, forks, shovels, well anything that we had access to, I was overruled and burning it was. This is about the point where I should have put my foot down because it was in fact a project in celebration of the earth and the fact that we are sending hazardous fumes into the atmosphere was not exactly sending an honorable example. I was already mildly overwhelmed running around town, in the hot sun, visiting each of the sites while also, by spending my own personal money, buying tea and sugar as a thank you to the teams that I did not have the energy to pick this fight about burning trash and to also come up with a better solution other than what I had already stated. I figured that next year I would have a better understanding of the situation and what exactly is needed to effectively do a clean up without actually doing more harm and I could make it up then. Inshallah. The final match, between the youth groups Boku Jam and Kamikaz, was scheduled for 4pm and when I arrived about a quarter after I was one of 8 people. Having faith that people would show up, at least the two teams would because they both wanted the bragging rights, it was a waiting game with me, the DJ and his crew who were apparently sticking around for the finale, which I was honestly a little excited about. Normally events that have speakers, the large ones that are usually as tall as I am, are always annoying because they either blast the music too loud to even hear ones own thoughts, play songs with crappy sound quality or play one of three artists on repeat (Rihanna and Akon of course are two of the three) but I was excited to have some sort of entertainment at my event since everyone not American seems to enjoy the speaker spectacle. The game stared around 5:15 with me kicking the first ball in the center of the field to signal the beginning of the match, about as much fun as it sounds. Wilma and Jordan arrived shortly after the game started to watch and honestly, I think they were just bored and this gave them something to do. With the music playing and someone clearing excited to be holding a microphone (commenting on everything from the game, who was in the audience, singing the song that was currently playing or, of course, trying to get the white

girls to say something) the game was off to a good start. I must say, I was proud of the work that Abdoul and I had put into the project; everyone was seemingly having a great time. As sort of a half-time show we decided to hand out the tea and sugar to the youth groups that helped out with the clean up earlier that morning. Abdoul was working with the DJ announcing the youth groups and as a representative would come up I would shake their hand and then hand them the tea and sugar. I am not sure if I have ever explained this but making tea is a large part of the Senegalese culture. It is an excuse for people, mostly men, to hang out, talk and debate while the tea brews- since the tea is prepared over coals it takes much longer to boil than if over a fire ensuring that both the men gather for longer periods of time and that the tea will have a better flavor. I myself don’t drink the tea since the Senegalese are incapable of drinking anything that does not have pounds of sugar in it, my teeth rot just thinking about it. And this is not a generalization, it is a fact! The game ended in a tie, 1-1, resulting in a shootout. Each team had five shots against the opposing teams goalie but I am pretty sure this went longer as well but I can’t say for sure. As nerve-racking and dramatic as it was watching the shoot out (people almost crying, screaming and jumping on those that made the shot and falling to the ground with those that missed) team Kamikaze proved victorious. They celebrated by rushing the field, running and chanting as a group and when I took a picture with them and the trophy I was greeted with a small stampede. It was great seeing how happy everyone was. The day was finally over and I was pleased that the entire soccer tournament and clean up event went smoothly, with only minor bumps in the road. Working on this project proved to me that I am capable on planning, organizing and managing a project and I really enjoyed it. I wish there were more things that I could be involved with that didn’t require money or portray me as only a dollar sign. My struggle with aid in Africa is still present but I am learning how to execute projects without loads of funding and how to have those conversations with people who just want funding. Sorry not going to happen. The training sessions with the youth leaders are the next step in the project and I don’t even know where to begin with the problems I am having with my waste management project but I will save those details for another date. Take care and talk to you soon. Cheers.