So this may or may not be my last post in Senegal, depending on wheteher anything super epic happens in the next 24 hours or so...and whether or not we have power/internet access tomorrow.
This week has really beena blur of packing, lasts (among them, a last trip to N'Ice Cream, where we purchased the largest supersize-aptly named, the American Cone-to say our last farewell), and last minute shopping. Fortunately, after making some crucial wardrobe decisions (do I need this tattered t-shirt at home?), it appears that my one suitcase will, in fact, be able to fit all of my belongings (including all Senegalese purchases)...with a little effort. Packing up my room was bizarre...all of the kids have been in my room "helping" me (by which I mean talking and distracting me, and attempting to pilfer things when my back was turned), and to be honest, it was kind of sad (and embarrassing...my room is filthy, not necessarily because of my own habits, but because, unliek the Senegalese, I seem to have attracted an inordinate amount of bugs, which have promptly crawled into all of my suitcases and drawers to die among my possessions). So sorry Mom and Dad, but there's a good chance that I'll eb bringing home a few dead coackroaches with my clothes (hey, at least they're dead...probably).
Last night, I learned how to make fish, frites, and yassa, my family's favorite special occasion meal. Shopping through consumption took almost 5 and ahalf hours, which was ridiculous, and mostly a result of the inefficiency of those around me...but I suppose when in Senegal, do as the non-toubabs do.
It surprisingly easy to make yassa-a few kilos of chipped onions, a few cloves of garlic, crushed pepper, piment, vinegar, salt/seasonings as needed, a green pepper and green onions, and you're good to go! It mostly took forever because
a) we have a tiny gas burner that can cook like one french fry ata time, and
b) there are 23 mouths to feed.
In America, I imagien that this could be an easy, time-saving, impressive ethnic dish.
Today, we did a last market day,a nd got our hands hennaed...despite some smudging (because despite being in Senegal for 4 months, I have not developed the Senegalese virtue of endless patience) it looks pretty decent. And even if I'm just saying that to convince myself I don't look like a giant tool (a la hair braiding episode), it comes off in a week or two. And cost about two dollars. So no worries; except that the henna man insisted on doing a design on my feet for free, which I'm sorry to say, looks ever so slightly like a piece of the male anatomy, rather than the flower that he insisted it was intended to be. Whoops. But I've added a little lime juice to the ink and it's almost gone.
Tomorrow I am meetign up with one of my mentor teachers from my teaching internship to visit her and her family for lunch...should be interesting to see another Senegalese family in their own home. And it will be a nice opportunity to say goodbye.
Other than that...I'll be distributing host family gifts tomorrow, and attending our mandatory "reintegration session" at the university, and then it's off to the airport to come home! At the very least I'll be back for a nostalgic wrap-up post once I'm back stateside, so until then, fanaanal ak jamm.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
May 9
So I have officially entered my last week in Senegal-and sorry to say there is very little that is exciting to report. This weekend, a bunch of us went out to Thai food and a Moroccan hookah bar to celebrate our last Saturday night out (and we brought along two random Nigerian guys that take classes with us at the University)...it was a fun night, except that the music selection at the Moroccan place consisted of a boy band covering a plethora of songs originally sung by female vocalists, that should NEVER ever be covered by anyone...among them Rihanna's S&M and Shakira's Waka Waka. It was horrific. But the Moroccan owners were super friendly to me, probably because they thought I was Moroccan...on a related note, I've now been stopped in front of the Moroccan embassy a total of 4 times by Arabic-speaking mistaken individuals.
This week...we will be spending every available moment at the beach, doing last-minute shopping at markets, and I will be learning how to cook ceebujen with Tabara and Aminata on Wednesday (if they aren't too horrified by my lack of cooking abilities and abandon the attempt). I'm sorry I don't have more fun things to tell you, it's mostly just nostalgia-filled everyday activities (ie-"oh sad, this is the last time I'll be doing laundry by hand!"). But I promise to write once more before I leave to wrap things up.
Ba beneen yoon.
This week...we will be spending every available moment at the beach, doing last-minute shopping at markets, and I will be learning how to cook ceebujen with Tabara and Aminata on Wednesday (if they aren't too horrified by my lack of cooking abilities and abandon the attempt). I'm sorry I don't have more fun things to tell you, it's mostly just nostalgia-filled everyday activities (ie-"oh sad, this is the last time I'll be doing laundry by hand!"). But I promise to write once more before I leave to wrap things up.
Ba beneen yoon.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
May 4
So since it's finals week, I've been pretty busy...but just doing boring things that you don't want to hear about. However, I figured I could take this opportunity to fill you in on a fun new creation that the Adventure Wednesday crew has come up with.
As you know, every Wednesday, because we don't have much class, we've been busting out the Lonely Planet and going to spots that looked interesting. And recently, we have added a new dimension to these adventures, to make them more adventurous; street food! And we've created a comprehensive mechanism for describing the establishments that we've been frequenting.
Now the LP can be great, but often has misleading articles about the sites mentioned. The problem is, one can never tell how legitimate the places really are until you go there. So, we have created the Shack Food Legit Scale, and theoretically would love to pass it on to Lonely so that they could not send their readers to sketchy, sketchy places without their knowledge.
So first things first; these "food shacks" are a fairly recent phenomenon in the Dakar area. They have sprung up in past years with the increase in federally funded construction projects, as workers need fast, filling, cheap food during their short breaks from their projects. As a result, opportunistic women have set up tents or shacks on the sides of roads and median strips to fill this need. Traditional Senegalese dishes, among them mafe, ceebujen, yassa, and thiou are served on a daily basis, in large bowls, cheaply to these workers...and now also to the curious toubabs who are running low on lunch stipend money.
So here's how our scoring system works:
Walls (concrete, wood, or metal) are worth 2 points each. Even if it's a shared wall (ex, a tent leaned up against a building, thereby using one of its walls), it counts.
Tent sides (canvas, fabric, etc) are 1 point each.
Any sort of roof, fabric or more solid, is one point...because let's face it, unless it's the rainy season, who needs a roof anyways? My friend Amy's host family's house doesn't even have a roof.
Doors with hinges are 2 points each.
Doors that are a flap of fabric or streamers are worth one point (but if you just have to move one of the tent "walls" of fabric to get in, it's 0 points added).
A table is worth 1 point.
Benches are worth 1 point...total, not each.
If there are chairs instead of benches, the establishment gets 2 points.
So, as you can see, these places can range anywhere from 1 to 14 points. Those closer to the "1" end are called food benches, those in the middle are food tents, and those on the higher end are food shacks. Any establishment earnign a score of 7 or above can officially be called "legit." Otherwise, it's basically just a bench in an open space near a construction site that has food.
Prices range from about 400-600 CFA (about 80 cents to a dollar and 20 cents USD). And portions can usually be enough to feed 2.
Ok so that's all I've got for today...off for an Adventure Wednesday to Village des Arts and, obviously, tent/bench/shack food. Ba ci kanam.
As you know, every Wednesday, because we don't have much class, we've been busting out the Lonely Planet and going to spots that looked interesting. And recently, we have added a new dimension to these adventures, to make them more adventurous; street food! And we've created a comprehensive mechanism for describing the establishments that we've been frequenting.
Now the LP can be great, but often has misleading articles about the sites mentioned. The problem is, one can never tell how legitimate the places really are until you go there. So, we have created the Shack Food Legit Scale, and theoretically would love to pass it on to Lonely so that they could not send their readers to sketchy, sketchy places without their knowledge.
So first things first; these "food shacks" are a fairly recent phenomenon in the Dakar area. They have sprung up in past years with the increase in federally funded construction projects, as workers need fast, filling, cheap food during their short breaks from their projects. As a result, opportunistic women have set up tents or shacks on the sides of roads and median strips to fill this need. Traditional Senegalese dishes, among them mafe, ceebujen, yassa, and thiou are served on a daily basis, in large bowls, cheaply to these workers...and now also to the curious toubabs who are running low on lunch stipend money.
So here's how our scoring system works:
Walls (concrete, wood, or metal) are worth 2 points each. Even if it's a shared wall (ex, a tent leaned up against a building, thereby using one of its walls), it counts.
Tent sides (canvas, fabric, etc) are 1 point each.
Any sort of roof, fabric or more solid, is one point...because let's face it, unless it's the rainy season, who needs a roof anyways? My friend Amy's host family's house doesn't even have a roof.
Doors with hinges are 2 points each.
Doors that are a flap of fabric or streamers are worth one point (but if you just have to move one of the tent "walls" of fabric to get in, it's 0 points added).
A table is worth 1 point.
Benches are worth 1 point...total, not each.
If there are chairs instead of benches, the establishment gets 2 points.
So, as you can see, these places can range anywhere from 1 to 14 points. Those closer to the "1" end are called food benches, those in the middle are food tents, and those on the higher end are food shacks. Any establishment earnign a score of 7 or above can officially be called "legit." Otherwise, it's basically just a bench in an open space near a construction site that has food.
Prices range from about 400-600 CFA (about 80 cents to a dollar and 20 cents USD). And portions can usually be enough to feed 2.
Ok so that's all I've got for today...off for an Adventure Wednesday to Village des Arts and, obviously, tent/bench/shack food. Ba ci kanam.
Monday, May 2, 2011
May 2
Verrrry little exciting going on here right now, so I'll be brief (especially since way more exciting things are currently happening on your end...among them the death of Osama bin laden, and don't let us forget the birth of Mariah Carey's twins).
Cooking this weekend for Amy's host family was a great success...and I'm pretty sure I consumed more veggies than oil for the first time in any meal in the past 4 months. Also we ate mangoes imported from the Casamance region, which were probably the best things I have ever tasted.
I'm really going to miss the fruit here.
Friday was actually a pretty cool day-my Islam teacher took our class on a field trip to several religiously significant locations around the greater Dakar area, including several cemeteries and mosques. It was really interesting (and we needed to wear head coverings at every destination); it was mostly good to see these places from more of n insider's perspective.
And then our Music and Dance teacher brought in a traditional dancer and drummer (both of which we were forced to try...it wasn't pretty), s it was just a culturally packed day.
Beyond that, just had a normal weekend, and have officially started my last week of classes and interning.
Only 12 more days until I come back home to take a hot bath and eat things not soaked in palm oil...and not get followed to school by a man who literally stopped his motorcycle (which was heading in the opposite direction) and abandoned it on the side of the road so he could follow me better.
As much as I love it here, I am definitely ready for a break.
So until more exciting things happens, mangiy dem!
Cooking this weekend for Amy's host family was a great success...and I'm pretty sure I consumed more veggies than oil for the first time in any meal in the past 4 months. Also we ate mangoes imported from the Casamance region, which were probably the best things I have ever tasted.
I'm really going to miss the fruit here.
Friday was actually a pretty cool day-my Islam teacher took our class on a field trip to several religiously significant locations around the greater Dakar area, including several cemeteries and mosques. It was really interesting (and we needed to wear head coverings at every destination); it was mostly good to see these places from more of n insider's perspective.
And then our Music and Dance teacher brought in a traditional dancer and drummer (both of which we were forced to try...it wasn't pretty), s it was just a culturally packed day.
Beyond that, just had a normal weekend, and have officially started my last week of classes and interning.
Only 12 more days until I come back home to take a hot bath and eat things not soaked in palm oil...and not get followed to school by a man who literally stopped his motorcycle (which was heading in the opposite direction) and abandoned it on the side of the road so he could follow me better.
As much as I love it here, I am definitely ready for a break.
So until more exciting things happens, mangiy dem!
Friday, April 29, 2011
April 29
Baal maa, I know that I really haven't been postign much of substance...or really much at all, this week. It's been kind of low key, and as we're getting to the end, we're not really doing anything terribly exciting-just sort of wrapping up classes and starting to prepare for our departure.
However, on my way to the university for my Wolof final exam on Wednesday (which I completed and passed, yay) I did have a great Senegalese encounter. So usually I walk to school, and Ouakam is about an hour and fifteen minutes away from WARC...I take the Corniche, along the water, both for the view and to avoid harassment (I have two long-term stalking relationships along Rue Cheikh Anta Diop-one with a construction worker, and one with a wood vendor, both of whom are named Alioune). And it's normally pretty effective-I just have to deal with the catcalls of cars whizzing by, but traffic moves so quickly that nothing is ever really an issue.
Until Wednesday. When a new creep (also named Alioune...maybe that's like the "John Doe" equivalent of the alias given to all sketchy Senegalese men) decided to follow me all the way from Ouakam to Fann. Talking the entire time. I don't think I've ever had a conversation that long with anybody (Mom and Dad, yiou can attest to this, given that our phone convos usually last for about 12 minutes max). And the worst part is the nature of the conversation. It started out innocently enough, with the usual come-ons, and casual information swapping (although this was pretty one-sided; I was a little miffed that my quiet morning walk was ruined), until things took a sudden turn when Alious proclaimed, out of nowhere, trhat homosexuality should be neither tolerated nor legalized, as it is unnatural and disgusting.
Wait, what.
So because I had already mentioned several times that I preferred to walk alone, and he continued to follow me, I decided why not get some French practice in and get into a pointless debate in which neither of us will ever see the other's point of view? I explained the US' current policies, and explained the biological nature of hetero-and homosexuality, and he kept repeating that he hated it because it was weird. We went through the usual arguments, and when it seemed that that particular topic was exhausted, I hioped maybe he'd leave, but no, wait! There's more!
Next he announces, again, out of nowhere, that the Jews are trying to take over the US government, and then, maybe, the world. To whih I replied that I was Jewish and I was pretty sure that if some conspiracy existed, I had mysteriously been left out of the loop.
Apparently sarcasm doesn't translate well ebcause he replied, Oh, well that's just because you're a woman.
Thankfully, at this point I arrived at the gates of the university and said I had to leave, and disagreed with everything he said. And then, as I turned to leave, he said I didn't understand anything, kicked my shoe off of my foot, and walked briskly away.
Definitely one of the most bizarre interactions I've ever had in my lifetime. You guys I think I'm starting to be ready to come home to America with crazy people that I know how to handle...and an active police force that I can call upon if necessary.
This weekend, my friend Amy and I are cooking a stir-fry for her host family (I can't do it for mine because:
1) we have no cooking utensils other than a big pan and an open fire, and I might kill myself,
2) the children would undoubtably hate it, and
3) there are just wayyyy too many people to feed).
Oh but one more exciting thing! I walked in the door yesterday coming home from class and Mohammed turned,a nd when he saw me, instead of theowing a rock at me like he is apt to do, he yelled "Jessica! Sama xarir (my friend)!" Everyone was shocked, and started laughing and clapping. And then Mohammed and I played soccer in the hallway until the power went out.
So I feel like my work here is done.
Hope you all have a great weekend. Ba beneen yoon.
However, on my way to the university for my Wolof final exam on Wednesday (which I completed and passed, yay) I did have a great Senegalese encounter. So usually I walk to school, and Ouakam is about an hour and fifteen minutes away from WARC...I take the Corniche, along the water, both for the view and to avoid harassment (I have two long-term stalking relationships along Rue Cheikh Anta Diop-one with a construction worker, and one with a wood vendor, both of whom are named Alioune). And it's normally pretty effective-I just have to deal with the catcalls of cars whizzing by, but traffic moves so quickly that nothing is ever really an issue.
Until Wednesday. When a new creep (also named Alioune...maybe that's like the "John Doe" equivalent of the alias given to all sketchy Senegalese men) decided to follow me all the way from Ouakam to Fann. Talking the entire time. I don't think I've ever had a conversation that long with anybody (Mom and Dad, yiou can attest to this, given that our phone convos usually last for about 12 minutes max). And the worst part is the nature of the conversation. It started out innocently enough, with the usual come-ons, and casual information swapping (although this was pretty one-sided; I was a little miffed that my quiet morning walk was ruined), until things took a sudden turn when Alious proclaimed, out of nowhere, trhat homosexuality should be neither tolerated nor legalized, as it is unnatural and disgusting.
Wait, what.
So because I had already mentioned several times that I preferred to walk alone, and he continued to follow me, I decided why not get some French practice in and get into a pointless debate in which neither of us will ever see the other's point of view? I explained the US' current policies, and explained the biological nature of hetero-and homosexuality, and he kept repeating that he hated it because it was weird. We went through the usual arguments, and when it seemed that that particular topic was exhausted, I hioped maybe he'd leave, but no, wait! There's more!
Next he announces, again, out of nowhere, that the Jews are trying to take over the US government, and then, maybe, the world. To whih I replied that I was Jewish and I was pretty sure that if some conspiracy existed, I had mysteriously been left out of the loop.
Apparently sarcasm doesn't translate well ebcause he replied, Oh, well that's just because you're a woman.
Thankfully, at this point I arrived at the gates of the university and said I had to leave, and disagreed with everything he said. And then, as I turned to leave, he said I didn't understand anything, kicked my shoe off of my foot, and walked briskly away.
Definitely one of the most bizarre interactions I've ever had in my lifetime. You guys I think I'm starting to be ready to come home to America with crazy people that I know how to handle...and an active police force that I can call upon if necessary.
This weekend, my friend Amy and I are cooking a stir-fry for her host family (I can't do it for mine because:
1) we have no cooking utensils other than a big pan and an open fire, and I might kill myself,
2) the children would undoubtably hate it, and
3) there are just wayyyy too many people to feed).
Oh but one more exciting thing! I walked in the door yesterday coming home from class and Mohammed turned,a nd when he saw me, instead of theowing a rock at me like he is apt to do, he yelled "Jessica! Sama xarir (my friend)!" Everyone was shocked, and started laughing and clapping. And then Mohammed and I played soccer in the hallway until the power went out.
So I feel like my work here is done.
Hope you all have a great weekend. Ba beneen yoon.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
April 26
So I didn't have the most thrilling weekend of my life ever, but lots of funny little mildly entertaining things happened so I suppose I'll post about them today.
First things first; had a Very Senegalese Easter this weekend. Which consisted of eating couscous with raisins, vegetables, and chicken, salad, and ngalax (the awesome peanut butter lax that only get served on special occasions) until I wanted to die. And drinking bissap/pain de singe (baobab fruit) juice, which apparently is the world's best alcohol mixer...because I didn't even realize that all the old, large Senegalese ladies in their boubous were boozing until, at the end of the day/meal, they tried to stand up and were just tottering about the courtyard and slurring their wolof. Non-Muslim Senegalese are all about partying apparently.
After I got back to my own host family that night, I got to do the one thing I've always, always wanted to do, but have never had the opportunity for: to be a sweet older sister. Tabara, my 17 year old host sister, had a secret date with a boy at the Renaissance Monument, but she couldn't tell the fam or they wouldn't let her go. So naturally, I step in and say I want to go for a walk, and bring Aminata and Tabara along. So Aminata and I leave Tabara with her boy for roughly an hour and we just hang out around all the other couples at the statue (sooo out of place, being loud and just generally disturbing the romantic mood around us) before we retrieve her to go home. I'm really going to miss those two the most, they've really made me feel like a part of the family...even if it's just taking advantage of my presence and using me as an excuse to do rebellious things.
Yesterday, we had Easter Monday off (because of the hangovers) and so did a beach day...and on the way, we saw a cab pull over to drop off its passenger, and when he got out, he went to the trunk, presumably to retrieve his baggage...which turned out to be a bound and gagged live goat. Locked up in the trunk of a taxi cab. Coming from lord knows where. And the most bizarre part of the incident was that neither I nor the three friends I was with realized that that is, in fact, not a normal thing until about 5 minutes later. Yikes. I'm starting to think I'm becoming a terrible person and might do things that are WILDLY inappropriate when I get home. Like stuff living beings in the trunks of cars. Or dangle my children over the fire. No big deal.
Anyways, the beach was fantastic...it's in Mamelles, where lots of toubabs live, and is a little more hidden (you have to walk past several trash dumps to get to the ocean), but once there, you're practically harassment free...and the French Air Force likes to hang out there and play sports, so it's really a win-win.
While laying on the sand, we noticed that there were some cool-looking caves up on the hillside in the rocks by the water...and a few of the more daring went off to explore. Clearly I stayed behind. They came back very quickly though, and when we asked why, they explained to us that, while they were climbing, some Senegalese men they had met before told them to turn back, because the caves were a really sweet spot, so great in fact that the drug dealers of West Africa have been using them as their storage places for several years! Mostly heroine, but apparently some other stuff too...making it probably not the best idea ever to go up there. So because of their thwarted plans, to deal with their boredom, hey threw me in the freezing cold ocean water instead. Stupid drug dealers.
That's about all I've got...Passover ends tonight so my family can finally start giving me breakfast again (Alhamdilulahi) tomorrow. Ba beneen yoon.
First things first; had a Very Senegalese Easter this weekend. Which consisted of eating couscous with raisins, vegetables, and chicken, salad, and ngalax (the awesome peanut butter lax that only get served on special occasions) until I wanted to die. And drinking bissap/pain de singe (baobab fruit) juice, which apparently is the world's best alcohol mixer...because I didn't even realize that all the old, large Senegalese ladies in their boubous were boozing until, at the end of the day/meal, they tried to stand up and were just tottering about the courtyard and slurring their wolof. Non-Muslim Senegalese are all about partying apparently.
After I got back to my own host family that night, I got to do the one thing I've always, always wanted to do, but have never had the opportunity for: to be a sweet older sister. Tabara, my 17 year old host sister, had a secret date with a boy at the Renaissance Monument, but she couldn't tell the fam or they wouldn't let her go. So naturally, I step in and say I want to go for a walk, and bring Aminata and Tabara along. So Aminata and I leave Tabara with her boy for roughly an hour and we just hang out around all the other couples at the statue (sooo out of place, being loud and just generally disturbing the romantic mood around us) before we retrieve her to go home. I'm really going to miss those two the most, they've really made me feel like a part of the family...even if it's just taking advantage of my presence and using me as an excuse to do rebellious things.
Yesterday, we had Easter Monday off (because of the hangovers) and so did a beach day...and on the way, we saw a cab pull over to drop off its passenger, and when he got out, he went to the trunk, presumably to retrieve his baggage...which turned out to be a bound and gagged live goat. Locked up in the trunk of a taxi cab. Coming from lord knows where. And the most bizarre part of the incident was that neither I nor the three friends I was with realized that that is, in fact, not a normal thing until about 5 minutes later. Yikes. I'm starting to think I'm becoming a terrible person and might do things that are WILDLY inappropriate when I get home. Like stuff living beings in the trunks of cars. Or dangle my children over the fire. No big deal.
Anyways, the beach was fantastic...it's in Mamelles, where lots of toubabs live, and is a little more hidden (you have to walk past several trash dumps to get to the ocean), but once there, you're practically harassment free...and the French Air Force likes to hang out there and play sports, so it's really a win-win.
While laying on the sand, we noticed that there were some cool-looking caves up on the hillside in the rocks by the water...and a few of the more daring went off to explore. Clearly I stayed behind. They came back very quickly though, and when we asked why, they explained to us that, while they were climbing, some Senegalese men they had met before told them to turn back, because the caves were a really sweet spot, so great in fact that the drug dealers of West Africa have been using them as their storage places for several years! Mostly heroine, but apparently some other stuff too...making it probably not the best idea ever to go up there. So because of their thwarted plans, to deal with their boredom, hey threw me in the freezing cold ocean water instead. Stupid drug dealers.
That's about all I've got...Passover ends tonight so my family can finally start giving me breakfast again (Alhamdilulahi) tomorrow. Ba beneen yoon.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
April 19
Ok so since I posted yesterday, there's really not much new, but since it's Passover I thought I'd offer this little nugget of a post.
Keturah and I found the Seder last night! Turns out the Israeli ambassador lives like 10 minutes away from the university...which didn't stop us from getting lost, mind you, but still. We literally ased 7 different people if they recognized the address, and got pointed in about 6 different directions. When we finally did make it, it turned out we weren't on the special official guest list...probably because we're not important foreign dignitaries, nor do we have any degree of Senegalese security clearance. Sooo we got questioned by an Israeli guard outside of the residence for about 20 minutes proving our identities as Jews/Americans/students, but when he was satisfied that we weren't terrorists (which was questionnable that he even would be, since I had zero form of ID on me because since "the incident" I'm paranoid about getting mugged and subsequently stranded in Dakar forever), we were allowed to enter...it was awkward at first, since everybody seemed to know at least a good portion of the guests and we were the underdressed randos, but then we found Irit (thank you so much for the connection Uncle Fred-I owe you one!) and she introduced us to a few people, and when we sat down to dinner, we actually met a really adorable young couple that worked at the UN...and this random lady who worked for Bank of America (and talked to us about her friend's awesome NGO, 10,000 Girls, which you should check out if you have the time), so everything was wayyy less awkward than it had the potential to be. And the Seder itself was super laid-back (led by the ambassador himself, who is really nice), and everybody got to read a portion (thank goodness I wasn't the youngest and didn't have to do the 4 Questions)...and obvi the food was bomb. And self-serve so obviously Keturah and I, being college students, went to town on it.
By the way, the house was this enormous mansion, with-get this- A BACKYARD WITH GRASS AND A GIANT ROPE SWING HANGING FROM A BAOBAB. Basically; paradise. For Jews only. In...Senegal.
Still don't know where to buy matzah, but my family does know not to serve me bread...although I think they're confused and believe me to be fasting completely during the day (which I am clearly not doing, not only because that's not the custom, but because I would eb incapable even if it was), but I'm pretty sure they're still giving me dinner. If not I'll steal it from Muhammed.
That's all for now, talk to you all soon! Ba ci kanam.
Keturah and I found the Seder last night! Turns out the Israeli ambassador lives like 10 minutes away from the university...which didn't stop us from getting lost, mind you, but still. We literally ased 7 different people if they recognized the address, and got pointed in about 6 different directions. When we finally did make it, it turned out we weren't on the special official guest list...probably because we're not important foreign dignitaries, nor do we have any degree of Senegalese security clearance. Sooo we got questioned by an Israeli guard outside of the residence for about 20 minutes proving our identities as Jews/Americans/students, but when he was satisfied that we weren't terrorists (which was questionnable that he even would be, since I had zero form of ID on me because since "the incident" I'm paranoid about getting mugged and subsequently stranded in Dakar forever), we were allowed to enter...it was awkward at first, since everybody seemed to know at least a good portion of the guests and we were the underdressed randos, but then we found Irit (thank you so much for the connection Uncle Fred-I owe you one!) and she introduced us to a few people, and when we sat down to dinner, we actually met a really adorable young couple that worked at the UN...and this random lady who worked for Bank of America (and talked to us about her friend's awesome NGO, 10,000 Girls, which you should check out if you have the time), so everything was wayyy less awkward than it had the potential to be. And the Seder itself was super laid-back (led by the ambassador himself, who is really nice), and everybody got to read a portion (thank goodness I wasn't the youngest and didn't have to do the 4 Questions)...and obvi the food was bomb. And self-serve so obviously Keturah and I, being college students, went to town on it.
By the way, the house was this enormous mansion, with-get this- A BACKYARD WITH GRASS AND A GIANT ROPE SWING HANGING FROM A BAOBAB. Basically; paradise. For Jews only. In...Senegal.
Still don't know where to buy matzah, but my family does know not to serve me bread...although I think they're confused and believe me to be fasting completely during the day (which I am clearly not doing, not only because that's not the custom, but because I would eb incapable even if it was), but I'm pretty sure they're still giving me dinner. If not I'll steal it from Muhammed.
That's all for now, talk to you all soon! Ba ci kanam.
Monday, April 18, 2011
April 18
Sorry for being MIA lately...it's been a busy but unexciting week, so there wasn't a whole lot of blog-worthy info. However, this weekend we took a trip to St. Louis which was great, so I can tell you a bit about that.
The main event (other than another traditional dance/music performance which was moderated by the town drunk...) was visiting the Djoudj bird/wildlife sanctuary just outside of St. Louis. You tour the park by pirogue (and this one was far stabler than the one on the way to Ile de Madeleine), on the water in the middle of the reserve. They're especially known for their exotic birds (the most prevalent of which is the white pelican, which is about the size of a pony), as well as crocodiles, wild boars, and some other species. Basically, I finally feel like I went to "Africa." It was really gorgeous, but I guess we're sort of in the migratory season right now, so that several species that usually can be found there (among them flamingos) were noticeably abqsent. regardless, it was an afternoon well spent, mostly because they gave us juice afterwards before getting back on the bus. It's the little things that keep morale up here.
Last night was also Jenn's last night (she's Canadian so her semester is already ending) and so a bunch of us went over her house to cook a celebratory send-off meal...which was quite the experience, because despite having a "full" kitchen, the only working heating apparatus was the tiny portable gas burner, which was both running out of gas, and only capable of cooking one crepe at a time. Even so, the evening was a success, and now I feel liek I will be a fully competent cook in just about any setting.
Today at my internship, it was staff meeting day and I got to sit in-all the speaking was done in Frolof, which made it a bit difficult to follow, but it was good practice I suppose. They discussed the students who were failing, the overarching general problems (overcrowding, disciplinary issues, etc), and their practical solutions (of which there really weren't many, beyond kick out the disruptive students, and do the best you can with 80 kids per teacher). It was really interesting to see how they all collaborate in the attempt to find the best ways around their significant problems.
Last thing to report: tonight is the beginning of Passover, and Keturah and I are going to attempt to find the Seder at the Israeli ambassador's house. Yeah, it's not at the embassy, it's at his house. Yikes. Whatever, I'm sure it will be an experience, and maybe one of the other 4 Jews in Dakar can tell us where we can purchase some Matzah. I'm a little concerned about being able to feed myself because all they eat here is bread and rice...we'll see how it goes (maybe I'll just keep the bread restriction, because I literally cannot think of one meal that my family here makes that I could eat otherwise). I'll keep you posted. Ba beneen yoon.
The main event (other than another traditional dance/music performance which was moderated by the town drunk...) was visiting the Djoudj bird/wildlife sanctuary just outside of St. Louis. You tour the park by pirogue (and this one was far stabler than the one on the way to Ile de Madeleine), on the water in the middle of the reserve. They're especially known for their exotic birds (the most prevalent of which is the white pelican, which is about the size of a pony), as well as crocodiles, wild boars, and some other species. Basically, I finally feel like I went to "Africa." It was really gorgeous, but I guess we're sort of in the migratory season right now, so that several species that usually can be found there (among them flamingos) were noticeably abqsent. regardless, it was an afternoon well spent, mostly because they gave us juice afterwards before getting back on the bus. It's the little things that keep morale up here.
Last night was also Jenn's last night (she's Canadian so her semester is already ending) and so a bunch of us went over her house to cook a celebratory send-off meal...which was quite the experience, because despite having a "full" kitchen, the only working heating apparatus was the tiny portable gas burner, which was both running out of gas, and only capable of cooking one crepe at a time. Even so, the evening was a success, and now I feel liek I will be a fully competent cook in just about any setting.
Today at my internship, it was staff meeting day and I got to sit in-all the speaking was done in Frolof, which made it a bit difficult to follow, but it was good practice I suppose. They discussed the students who were failing, the overarching general problems (overcrowding, disciplinary issues, etc), and their practical solutions (of which there really weren't many, beyond kick out the disruptive students, and do the best you can with 80 kids per teacher). It was really interesting to see how they all collaborate in the attempt to find the best ways around their significant problems.
Last thing to report: tonight is the beginning of Passover, and Keturah and I are going to attempt to find the Seder at the Israeli ambassador's house. Yeah, it's not at the embassy, it's at his house. Yikes. Whatever, I'm sure it will be an experience, and maybe one of the other 4 Jews in Dakar can tell us where we can purchase some Matzah. I'm a little concerned about being able to feed myself because all they eat here is bread and rice...we'll see how it goes (maybe I'll just keep the bread restriction, because I literally cannot think of one meal that my family here makes that I could eat otherwise). I'll keep you posted. Ba beneen yoon.
Monday, April 11, 2011
April 11
Today is our 3 month anniversary in Dakar-more than 3/4 in! I'm starting to feel pretty Dakaroise given a few interactions I had this weekend...
namely the religious festival in Ouakam.
But first things first. We started the weekend by going to a salsa club (called New Africa, obviously a toubab spot), which was great, especially when around 2am it devolved into a giant Michael Jackson only dance party, led by a Senegalese man wearing neon checkered pants.
After about 2 hours of sleep, I wander home from Jenn's house on Saturday morning for the 8am prep-time for the festival...which consisted of all of the women cooking and dealing with the children while the men shot the shit outside. Oh wait they did kill several bulls, but that was like a 2 person job.
Anyways, I spent the morning cutting and peeling onions and potatoes with Tabara and Umi (our new bonne...we have a maid now that we have 2 newborns in the house!), and eating peanut butter lax to get in the festive mood. At exactly 3pm, all of the women started frantically preparing themselves for the ceremony (which began at 5pm)-we all got dressed in our matching white boubous (the more stately older ladies wore matching blue and white gauzy scarves, as well) and walked to the local middle school (the only venue large enough to host the event) in what looked like a massive wedding processional. The event itself consisted of sections of prayer, sermons, and chants (all in Wolof or Arabic, so needless to say, my comprehension was limited at best) but the entire event was really an experience...the men and women were seated separately, and all of the women, the toubabs included, needed to wear head coverings. The ceremony (which, by the way, was in memorial of El Haji Mbaye Diop, who is the grandfather of my host family-as well as every other family in town, considering he had 4 wives and bajillions of children with each) lasted about 4 or 5 hours, and at the end everybody went back to my house for dinner...and then promptly passed out.
Yesterday was a post-celebration relaxation/children's entertainment day. Tabara, Umi, and I took Colle, Maguette, and Marietou to the beach, where we saw a pelican roughly my size...it chased away a stray dog and sent the children into a fit of hysterics. Other than that, it was a lovely day of lounging on the rocks while Colle retrieved various fish body parts from the water (the Ouakam beach is generally used for fishing and fish preparation, rather than for recreation)-don't worry, I soaked her in my hand sanitizer back at the house. Oh and on the way home, Maguette was sleepy so I was carrying her, and was approached by a Senegalese man who asked me if I was married, or if she was my illegitimate child, because white women tend to sleep around...and, part B to his question, if I wasn't, in fact, married, could he join in on the fun?
Yikes. I'll be honest, I'm really looking forward to being back in a country where a comment like that isn't perfectly acceptable.
Starting today, the kids' vacation from school is over, and everyone is getting back into the usual routine...so I don't have too much else exciting to report. I'll keep you posted if that changes.
Mangiy dem.
namely the religious festival in Ouakam.
But first things first. We started the weekend by going to a salsa club (called New Africa, obviously a toubab spot), which was great, especially when around 2am it devolved into a giant Michael Jackson only dance party, led by a Senegalese man wearing neon checkered pants.
After about 2 hours of sleep, I wander home from Jenn's house on Saturday morning for the 8am prep-time for the festival...which consisted of all of the women cooking and dealing with the children while the men shot the shit outside. Oh wait they did kill several bulls, but that was like a 2 person job.
Anyways, I spent the morning cutting and peeling onions and potatoes with Tabara and Umi (our new bonne...we have a maid now that we have 2 newborns in the house!), and eating peanut butter lax to get in the festive mood. At exactly 3pm, all of the women started frantically preparing themselves for the ceremony (which began at 5pm)-we all got dressed in our matching white boubous (the more stately older ladies wore matching blue and white gauzy scarves, as well) and walked to the local middle school (the only venue large enough to host the event) in what looked like a massive wedding processional. The event itself consisted of sections of prayer, sermons, and chants (all in Wolof or Arabic, so needless to say, my comprehension was limited at best) but the entire event was really an experience...the men and women were seated separately, and all of the women, the toubabs included, needed to wear head coverings. The ceremony (which, by the way, was in memorial of El Haji Mbaye Diop, who is the grandfather of my host family-as well as every other family in town, considering he had 4 wives and bajillions of children with each) lasted about 4 or 5 hours, and at the end everybody went back to my house for dinner...and then promptly passed out.
Yesterday was a post-celebration relaxation/children's entertainment day. Tabara, Umi, and I took Colle, Maguette, and Marietou to the beach, where we saw a pelican roughly my size...it chased away a stray dog and sent the children into a fit of hysterics. Other than that, it was a lovely day of lounging on the rocks while Colle retrieved various fish body parts from the water (the Ouakam beach is generally used for fishing and fish preparation, rather than for recreation)-don't worry, I soaked her in my hand sanitizer back at the house. Oh and on the way home, Maguette was sleepy so I was carrying her, and was approached by a Senegalese man who asked me if I was married, or if she was my illegitimate child, because white women tend to sleep around...and, part B to his question, if I wasn't, in fact, married, could he join in on the fun?
Yikes. I'll be honest, I'm really looking forward to being back in a country where a comment like that isn't perfectly acceptable.
Starting today, the kids' vacation from school is over, and everyone is getting back into the usual routine...so I don't have too much else exciting to report. I'll keep you posted if that changes.
Mangiy dem.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
April 7
Ok let's start with the most important thing first: it is now officially mango season. Which means that every day this past week, I have been eating a 20 cent mango the size of my face. It's been awesome. Turns out they're oine of the messiest, stickiest things ever though, and being an ungraceful toubab, mango eating on the street is just really not an opotion; it must be done in the privacy of one's own home to avoid humliliation.
But it's totally worth it.
Moving on...yesterday's installment of Adventure Wednesdays consisted of us going to Ile de Madeleine, which is an uninhabited island of the coast and home to a number of rare and exotic bird and plant species. It's a bit more of an adventure than we anticipated though; the pirogue ride to get there is basically you asking a rando Senegalese man with a boat if he'll be nice enough to take you, then arguing over the prive for about an hour before actually setting off...in what turns out to be a boat with a motor that needs to eb attached by hand right before you set sail...and which comes equipped with several buckets to dump out water as the boat fills up to prevent it from sinking while loaded with passengers...and no life jackets.
The weird thing is that I don't even bat an eye at this stuff anymore.
Anyways, once on the island, we hiked around, checking out the scenery (which includes an absolutely gorgeous view of the entire city of Dakar-if you're ever in the area I would highly recommend that you check it out). And the entire time our "guide" slash boat man (who, by the way, was wearing a Chicago tee shirt) was asking us for our phone numbers, despite the fact that one of the student's mothers in our group was accompanying us. I swear Senegalese men have no shame. Or boundaries.
And so now officially I have seen all of the islands off the coast of Dakar, so I can cross that off my Lonely Planet bucket list...it's rapidly shrinking, which is good I suppose considering I only have about 5 weeks left here and finals coming up. Next up; religious pilgrimage: part 2: try not to get assaulted and mugged.
Inshallah.
But it's totally worth it.
Moving on...yesterday's installment of Adventure Wednesdays consisted of us going to Ile de Madeleine, which is an uninhabited island of the coast and home to a number of rare and exotic bird and plant species. It's a bit more of an adventure than we anticipated though; the pirogue ride to get there is basically you asking a rando Senegalese man with a boat if he'll be nice enough to take you, then arguing over the prive for about an hour before actually setting off...in what turns out to be a boat with a motor that needs to eb attached by hand right before you set sail...and which comes equipped with several buckets to dump out water as the boat fills up to prevent it from sinking while loaded with passengers...and no life jackets.
The weird thing is that I don't even bat an eye at this stuff anymore.
Anyways, once on the island, we hiked around, checking out the scenery (which includes an absolutely gorgeous view of the entire city of Dakar-if you're ever in the area I would highly recommend that you check it out). And the entire time our "guide" slash boat man (who, by the way, was wearing a Chicago tee shirt) was asking us for our phone numbers, despite the fact that one of the student's mothers in our group was accompanying us. I swear Senegalese men have no shame. Or boundaries.
And so now officially I have seen all of the islands off the coast of Dakar, so I can cross that off my Lonely Planet bucket list...it's rapidly shrinking, which is good I suppose considering I only have about 5 weeks left here and finals coming up. Next up; religious pilgrimage: part 2: try not to get assaulted and mugged.
Inshallah.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
April 5
Hello! Hope everyone had a great weekend...yesterday was Independance Day, which basically just meant a day off of school/work so that everyone can watch the year's biggest lutte (Modou Lo vs. Lac de Guiere 2)...it went a full hour of 2 enormous men grappling with each other, and was then declared a tie. Really anticlimactic if you ask me, but it was definitely an event to see.
Friday was Adama's baby's bapteme; his name is Khalifa Babacar, and he's still sooooo cute...and also enormous. We ground up millet and made lax but this time, added this peanut sauce instead of yoghurt which was probably the ebst thing I've eaten since beign in Senegal. I miss sugary American peanut butter something fierce.
This Saturday night, everybody in our program went to the Oceanium-usually, it's an organization that runs scuba diving trips off the coast of Senegal, but the first weekend of every month, they host a First Saturday of the Month party; basically, every toubab who's anybody goes to this party (along with a few of the Senegalese men who like to creep on the toubabs), and it's just a massive crowd dancing to Senegalese music in an open space. Dakar nightlife is definitely an experience...
Unfortunately, I did not receive my promised cooking lesson, I think it's being deferred to next Sunday after Ouakam's religious festival...speaking of which, I bought matching fabric with my whole host family and community, which happens to be this white stiff material...and basically just had a wedding dress made out of it. So if you check out my facebook any time in the enar future, do not be alarmed by my attire-I did NOT accept one of the marriage proposals being thrown around, it's just a teybasse (traditional outfit).
Oh also I took out my braids. I just felt filthy running every day and not really being able to wash my hair. BUT we did take a few photos to commemmorate the experience so no worries.
Nothing too exciting beyond that...today is the 12 week mark, meaning I come home in 5 1/2 weeks which is terrifying...my host sisters have already begun to lay claim on all my possessions. And while some of that is fine, I had to explain yesterday that I am not dying and giving everything away, and will still need some crucial items even when I am back home in the States. Like at least one pair of pants, for example. Ans maybe some shoes and a tee shirt. I'm sure they'll understand...eventually.
Ba suba, Inshallah
Friday was Adama's baby's bapteme; his name is Khalifa Babacar, and he's still sooooo cute...and also enormous. We ground up millet and made lax but this time, added this peanut sauce instead of yoghurt which was probably the ebst thing I've eaten since beign in Senegal. I miss sugary American peanut butter something fierce.
This Saturday night, everybody in our program went to the Oceanium-usually, it's an organization that runs scuba diving trips off the coast of Senegal, but the first weekend of every month, they host a First Saturday of the Month party; basically, every toubab who's anybody goes to this party (along with a few of the Senegalese men who like to creep on the toubabs), and it's just a massive crowd dancing to Senegalese music in an open space. Dakar nightlife is definitely an experience...
Unfortunately, I did not receive my promised cooking lesson, I think it's being deferred to next Sunday after Ouakam's religious festival...speaking of which, I bought matching fabric with my whole host family and community, which happens to be this white stiff material...and basically just had a wedding dress made out of it. So if you check out my facebook any time in the enar future, do not be alarmed by my attire-I did NOT accept one of the marriage proposals being thrown around, it's just a teybasse (traditional outfit).
Oh also I took out my braids. I just felt filthy running every day and not really being able to wash my hair. BUT we did take a few photos to commemmorate the experience so no worries.
Nothing too exciting beyond that...today is the 12 week mark, meaning I come home in 5 1/2 weeks which is terrifying...my host sisters have already begun to lay claim on all my possessions. And while some of that is fine, I had to explain yesterday that I am not dying and giving everything away, and will still need some crucial items even when I am back home in the States. Like at least one pair of pants, for example. Ans maybe some shoes and a tee shirt. I'm sure they'll understand...eventually.
Ba suba, Inshallah
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
March 30
Random quick updates:
Aminata has head lice. And I caught her trying to use one of my scarves as a head covering because she had to take her braids out. Don't worry, I recovered the stolen good before they were contaminated.
Mariama (my neighbor friend who has the same birthday as me one year earlier) braided my hair last night. Aminata had been harassing me about it for a while and I just sort of gave in. I feel very much like a 9 year old freshly back from a Caribbean cruise vacation, but it isn't awful...also, jogging with braids is AWESOME. You get a great breeze and no bangs flopping around in your face. But the entire time I was having it done last night, a stream of eligible men were coming in to give me appraising looks. And it's not like I could up and leave, or even turn my head away to ignore them-Mariama has a icelike grip. I feel like Aminata may have had something to do with this, she needs to set up like a Senegalese match.com or something-since she's been on Spring Break from school, she's had wayyyy too much time to make general mischief.
Mariama promised to teach me how to make mafe (rice and meat in a spicy peanut based sauce...my favorite Senegalese dish) this weekend. Hopefully we actually do it, I'm a little bit over being judged by the old ladies in the neighborhood when I tell them that the only dish I can make is spaghetti.
Amherst College has finally decided to join the 21st century and has made the switch to online course scheduling...which is great, because frankly I was starting to wonder how I would be able to get myself to the registrar's office with my little slip of paper indicating my fall class selections. True, this is not Senegalese news, but it was relevant to my life so I figured that since nobody really reads this anyways, I would indulge myself.
Oh and best for last; when I was walking home from school yesterday I got offered 300,000 CFC (about $600)...because a teenaged boy thought I was a prostitute. Not quite sure how he got to that conclusion considering I was wearing long pants and a scarf over my outfit, but hey, not bad when you're not even soliciting I guess. And then later some random girl offered me 200,000 CFA for my hair when she walked in and saw me getting my braids done, so at least I know that if I'm ever in a pinch, I could sell my hair before prostituting myself. Unless I needed more than 200,000 CFA, in which case I'll need to go ahead and do the latter.
Those were the more exciting events of the last few days...if anything else worthwhile happens I'll be sure to let you know. Mangiy dem.
Aminata has head lice. And I caught her trying to use one of my scarves as a head covering because she had to take her braids out. Don't worry, I recovered the stolen good before they were contaminated.
Mariama (my neighbor friend who has the same birthday as me one year earlier) braided my hair last night. Aminata had been harassing me about it for a while and I just sort of gave in. I feel very much like a 9 year old freshly back from a Caribbean cruise vacation, but it isn't awful...also, jogging with braids is AWESOME. You get a great breeze and no bangs flopping around in your face. But the entire time I was having it done last night, a stream of eligible men were coming in to give me appraising looks. And it's not like I could up and leave, or even turn my head away to ignore them-Mariama has a icelike grip. I feel like Aminata may have had something to do with this, she needs to set up like a Senegalese match.com or something-since she's been on Spring Break from school, she's had wayyyy too much time to make general mischief.
Mariama promised to teach me how to make mafe (rice and meat in a spicy peanut based sauce...my favorite Senegalese dish) this weekend. Hopefully we actually do it, I'm a little bit over being judged by the old ladies in the neighborhood when I tell them that the only dish I can make is spaghetti.
Amherst College has finally decided to join the 21st century and has made the switch to online course scheduling...which is great, because frankly I was starting to wonder how I would be able to get myself to the registrar's office with my little slip of paper indicating my fall class selections. True, this is not Senegalese news, but it was relevant to my life so I figured that since nobody really reads this anyways, I would indulge myself.
Oh and best for last; when I was walking home from school yesterday I got offered 300,000 CFC (about $600)...because a teenaged boy thought I was a prostitute. Not quite sure how he got to that conclusion considering I was wearing long pants and a scarf over my outfit, but hey, not bad when you're not even soliciting I guess. And then later some random girl offered me 200,000 CFA for my hair when she walked in and saw me getting my braids done, so at least I know that if I'm ever in a pinch, I could sell my hair before prostituting myself. Unless I needed more than 200,000 CFA, in which case I'll need to go ahead and do the latter.
Those were the more exciting events of the last few days...if anything else worthwhile happens I'll be sure to let you know. Mangiy dem.
Monday, March 28, 2011
March 28
Spring Break Post #2:
The sept place ride to Saly went much more smoothly; it took less than 2 hours and the car had functioning windows (and incidentally, the car was functioning too) so it was really just a breeze by comparison. We stayed at this adorable little hotel called Au Petit Jura, owned by this middle-aged Swiss man and patronized by wealthy middle aged French men...who bought us wine on a daily basis in the middle of the day so that we could drunkenly discuss world politics by the poolside. It was awesome. One of them was a professional traditional wrestler in Bretagne, and he kept trying to explain the rules and how it's different from Senegalese wrestling (let me give you a hint: everything is different) which was definitely mildly entertaining, especially after a few months of verrrry limited drinking and 2 glasses of wine in rapid succession without eating lunch.
Beyond that, most of the trip was spent sitting by the pool and tanning. I may as well be North African now. Aimee and I ventured one day to Mbour, a fishing port town, to see them bring the fish in on boats, and while we got to see a bit of it, we were getting harassed so much by the villagers that we abandoned our mission early to return to Europe-in-Senegal-land.
And naturally, being my mother's daughter, after a few days of lounging around, I started to get restless...so when another group of 3 girls from our program met up with us in Saly, we decided that we should leave a day earlier than originally planned so that we could try and catch the Senegal-Cameroon international qualifying soccer match in Dakar on Saturday night.
We had heard that national soccer games in Africa are a must see because of how crazy the fans get, but absolutely nothing could have prepared us for the experience. We make it to Stade Leopold Sedar Senghor about 2-3 hours before game time, and obviously it was already sold out; but, unfortunately for us, locating and interacting with scalpers in Wolof is much more difficult than we had anticipated. Shocker. Between trying to rip us off, and us drawing crowds of cops like it was our job (I wonder why? Oh yeah. We're the ONLY white people here), things reeealllly were starting to look bleak...and also we had no way of getting home. Then, just as we were about to lose hope, I make eye-contact with a group of 3 Senegalese men right in front of us, who ask us in French if we have bought tickets yet. I respond that we haven't, praying that maybe these are some nice scalpers that won't try to kidnp us/rip us off, but turns out they're even better; they're Senegalese people in search of scalpers too! So they invite us to join them, and off we go on a quest to illegally buy game tickets...which they find immediately, thanks to their superior cultural and linguistic skills. And we only ended up paying the equivalent of $14 for game tickets (which were initially prices at $10) so basically these guys were awesome. Oh and between us 3 girls, we only even paid for 2 tickets (they bought the third...and also gave us a free jersey, flag, and wrist bands so we could look more legitimate).
And the fun doesn't stop there. The game itself was "hache," or sloppy, as our new friends Alex and Alain said, but the ending was just about the most epic thing I've ever seen live. With just about a minute of stoppage time left, in the 92nd minute, Senegal breaks the scoreless tie with a gorgeous goal inside the 18 yard box-and I swear all of Dakar erupted as though Senegal had just won a war. Fans sprinted onto the field, grown men hugged and kissed, and children (and pickpockets) danced in the streets. I've never seen such excitement; and this just for a qualifying match! Like literally nothing happens now except that Senegal gets a few extra point towards qualifying for the 2012 African Cup of Nations. I'd be afraid to be here when a game that actually really matters happens. But it was so awesome to be there, and now we have some actual Senegalese friends that we met ourselves that weren't assigned to us by our host families.
After the game, I went back home to Ouakam...and it turns out my host uncle Isaakha had been there too. And also that my other host aunt had her baby of Friday! And also that Sunday was some major prophet's birthday so we got to celebrate and eat lax all day! So it was a bit of a whirlwind of a weekend, but it was wonderful seeing my family again...Tabara gave me a giant hug when I got back (I've never seen her display emotion so that was very exciting). Also, the new baby is enormous-like, it's already bigger than the 2 month old, and he's three days old. Yikes. Luckily, there weren't too many complications with the birth and his mother is doing just fine.
So that pretty much brings you up to speed with everything here through break...I'm sure I've accidentally left some things out, but I'll post them later if I remember them. Ba beneen yoon.
The sept place ride to Saly went much more smoothly; it took less than 2 hours and the car had functioning windows (and incidentally, the car was functioning too) so it was really just a breeze by comparison. We stayed at this adorable little hotel called Au Petit Jura, owned by this middle-aged Swiss man and patronized by wealthy middle aged French men...who bought us wine on a daily basis in the middle of the day so that we could drunkenly discuss world politics by the poolside. It was awesome. One of them was a professional traditional wrestler in Bretagne, and he kept trying to explain the rules and how it's different from Senegalese wrestling (let me give you a hint: everything is different) which was definitely mildly entertaining, especially after a few months of verrrry limited drinking and 2 glasses of wine in rapid succession without eating lunch.
Beyond that, most of the trip was spent sitting by the pool and tanning. I may as well be North African now. Aimee and I ventured one day to Mbour, a fishing port town, to see them bring the fish in on boats, and while we got to see a bit of it, we were getting harassed so much by the villagers that we abandoned our mission early to return to Europe-in-Senegal-land.
And naturally, being my mother's daughter, after a few days of lounging around, I started to get restless...so when another group of 3 girls from our program met up with us in Saly, we decided that we should leave a day earlier than originally planned so that we could try and catch the Senegal-Cameroon international qualifying soccer match in Dakar on Saturday night.
We had heard that national soccer games in Africa are a must see because of how crazy the fans get, but absolutely nothing could have prepared us for the experience. We make it to Stade Leopold Sedar Senghor about 2-3 hours before game time, and obviously it was already sold out; but, unfortunately for us, locating and interacting with scalpers in Wolof is much more difficult than we had anticipated. Shocker. Between trying to rip us off, and us drawing crowds of cops like it was our job (I wonder why? Oh yeah. We're the ONLY white people here), things reeealllly were starting to look bleak...and also we had no way of getting home. Then, just as we were about to lose hope, I make eye-contact with a group of 3 Senegalese men right in front of us, who ask us in French if we have bought tickets yet. I respond that we haven't, praying that maybe these are some nice scalpers that won't try to kidnp us/rip us off, but turns out they're even better; they're Senegalese people in search of scalpers too! So they invite us to join them, and off we go on a quest to illegally buy game tickets...which they find immediately, thanks to their superior cultural and linguistic skills. And we only ended up paying the equivalent of $14 for game tickets (which were initially prices at $10) so basically these guys were awesome. Oh and between us 3 girls, we only even paid for 2 tickets (they bought the third...and also gave us a free jersey, flag, and wrist bands so we could look more legitimate).
And the fun doesn't stop there. The game itself was "hache," or sloppy, as our new friends Alex and Alain said, but the ending was just about the most epic thing I've ever seen live. With just about a minute of stoppage time left, in the 92nd minute, Senegal breaks the scoreless tie with a gorgeous goal inside the 18 yard box-and I swear all of Dakar erupted as though Senegal had just won a war. Fans sprinted onto the field, grown men hugged and kissed, and children (and pickpockets) danced in the streets. I've never seen such excitement; and this just for a qualifying match! Like literally nothing happens now except that Senegal gets a few extra point towards qualifying for the 2012 African Cup of Nations. I'd be afraid to be here when a game that actually really matters happens. But it was so awesome to be there, and now we have some actual Senegalese friends that we met ourselves that weren't assigned to us by our host families.
After the game, I went back home to Ouakam...and it turns out my host uncle Isaakha had been there too. And also that my other host aunt had her baby of Friday! And also that Sunday was some major prophet's birthday so we got to celebrate and eat lax all day! So it was a bit of a whirlwind of a weekend, but it was wonderful seeing my family again...Tabara gave me a giant hug when I got back (I've never seen her display emotion so that was very exciting). Also, the new baby is enormous-like, it's already bigger than the 2 month old, and he's three days old. Yikes. Luckily, there weren't too many complications with the birth and his mother is doing just fine.
So that pretty much brings you up to speed with everything here through break...I'm sure I've accidentally left some things out, but I'll post them later if I remember them. Ba beneen yoon.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
March 23
Ok so we are corrently on a break between parts one and two of vacation, so I figured I'd give a brief update on the first half while I had some time/before I forgot.
Day 1: woke up at 5:30 AM to work out before catching a 7 AM sept-place taxi to St. Louis...and encountered the world's largest rat while doing so. Any of you ever seent eh movie The Princess Bride? You know teh ROUS (Rodents of Unusual Size)? That's what I saw.
After a bit of panic, ended up meetign with Aimee and Jenn, my 2 travel companions, and we go to the Gare Routiere, teh "station" to catch our taxi. Now I put the word station in quotation marks because it literally looked like a junkyard more than anythign else; run-down, beaten-up station wagons were just strewn about haphazardly, with no discernable order system. Sketchy guys walk up to yuo, ask you where you're goign, and then point you to the (hopefully) correct car and driver. And then you wait in the car until it's full (7 passangers and a driver) and then you go. Simple enough.
UNLESS, of course, after 10 minutes into your drive, your driver realizes that two of the nuts on your left rear wheel are missing...in which case, you pull over, he spends an hour fruitlessly trying to jam various pieces of metal into the wheel to fix it, and then afterwards you bump back to the gare routiere going roughly 10 km/hr to start the whole process over again.
Take two!
Fortunately, this was a huge upgrade, because after they unloaded and reloaded us into a new car, it turned out this one had head rests for the 4 hour drive. So things work out.
Anyways, after arriving in St. Louis, we took a cab to our youth hostel...but, rather than pick us up and drop us off at our destination, our particular cab did 3 or 4 stops, picking up and dropping off the driver's buddies that he encountered on the road as he pleased. Weird, but super friendly I suppose.
We get to our youth hostel, which is super nice and clean (and about 10 USD a night) and we literally never even gave our names or any sort of identification to check in...we just walked in, were handed a key, and told to have a pleasant stay. Because that is the equivalent of a Senegalese security system. And it's a pretty uneventful day until we meet our new hostel friend: her name is Karina, and she's an Ivoirian who currently lives in Canada and just graduated from Boston University, spending 8 months in West Africa on a fellowship doing microfinancing research. She's great because 1) she's super friendly and awesome, and 2) she's African and proceeded to get us African prices on everything for the next 2 days. Score for us!
Day 2: We wake up early and meet a Mauritanian shop owner who invites us to Ataaya...more on that later. We go to the Guembeul wildlife reserve, where we see monkeys, gazelles, tortoises, and an umber of other African animals (so now we feel legitimized in coming here). Then we realize that there is no transportation to get home so...we stand on the side of the road waiting for a taxi to pass us.
Mom and Dad you might want to skip this next part.
And then we accidentally hitchhiked!
A man in a regular car pullqs up...we assumed he was a clando taxi. We greet him and ask how much to go to St. Louis and he says "C'est gratuit! Montez!" ("It's free! Get in!") So we all climb aboard and after about 5 minutes of drivign and chatting (his son is at Cheikh Anta Diop University as well, blah blah blah) I have the sudden epiphany that...we are currently hitchhiking. But the thing is, it really didn't feel like it-people just have a different idea of hospitality (and safety, I suppose) here...which was further proved when, halfway through our ride, we pull over to pick up an old lady walking in the heat with a cane as well. It was one of those moments where I felt liek I never want to go back to American social interactions.
Anyways, we make it back to St. Louis safely just in time for Ataaya with our new Mauritanian friend...during which we watch Al Jazeera and discuss the North African political situation with the vendor and his young son. It was surreal to say the least.
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully...until dinnertime, because as we were walking home, we realize we are being followed by a fou (crazy person), who drops his pants and picks up his pace to catch up to us. So Karina whips out her pepper spray and we sprint home, luckily not having to use it, locking ourselves safely in our hostel.
Day 3:Nothing too exciting, excpet that we received another attaya invitation, this time from a Senegalese man in the town. We accept, and turns out he serves ataaya to just about every person in the community: there's a crowd of about 10 of us seated on the sidewalk outside of his store front, and the women are all trying to teach us Wolof and chat with us-it was really nice. Until a drunk/fou comes up and starts babbling/proposing marriage to me, ignoring my pelase of "Bayyil lii nga def" (stop what you're doing), at which point Fatou, the eldest, most authoritative looking woman of the group gets up and dumps a cup of hot tea of the man and chases him away. And then she made us start a dance circle, and decided to rename us all...based on thze size of our hips. Awkward and reaaaally uncomfortable for us toubabs, but apparently that's a normal thing to do here. So Jenn is now Fonde, I am now Lax, and Amy, being the skinny one, is laalo. In case any of you are plannign on travelling to senegal: don't unless you are fine discussing very personal things, such as diarrhea and your weight, with complete strangers.
Anyways, byt the end of our 2 hour ataaya session, Lamine, one of the men, invited us to see his welding studio the next morning. Which we obviously decided to do, because, what the hell, we'd already been hitchhiking,why not just do every dangerous thing offered to us?
Day 4: We stop at Lamine's workshop and he teaches us how to weld. It's called soudure in French...and it's really an art form. They have such limited, run-down equipment, and yet are able to make absolutely stuinning pieces...us girls? Less so able. It was terrifying. And hot. But we did it, and it was a fun way to close out the St. Louis portion of our trip.
Alright so I'm off...we leave for Saly in a bit, which will be a much less exciting, more lounging on the beach type of vacation. I just wanted to check in and let you all know that I am sill alive...and I will be in touch when I am back again in Dakar. Ba beneen yoon.
Day 1: woke up at 5:30 AM to work out before catching a 7 AM sept-place taxi to St. Louis...and encountered the world's largest rat while doing so. Any of you ever seent eh movie The Princess Bride? You know teh ROUS (Rodents of Unusual Size)? That's what I saw.
After a bit of panic, ended up meetign with Aimee and Jenn, my 2 travel companions, and we go to the Gare Routiere, teh "station" to catch our taxi. Now I put the word station in quotation marks because it literally looked like a junkyard more than anythign else; run-down, beaten-up station wagons were just strewn about haphazardly, with no discernable order system. Sketchy guys walk up to yuo, ask you where you're goign, and then point you to the (hopefully) correct car and driver. And then you wait in the car until it's full (7 passangers and a driver) and then you go. Simple enough.
UNLESS, of course, after 10 minutes into your drive, your driver realizes that two of the nuts on your left rear wheel are missing...in which case, you pull over, he spends an hour fruitlessly trying to jam various pieces of metal into the wheel to fix it, and then afterwards you bump back to the gare routiere going roughly 10 km/hr to start the whole process over again.
Take two!
Fortunately, this was a huge upgrade, because after they unloaded and reloaded us into a new car, it turned out this one had head rests for the 4 hour drive. So things work out.
Anyways, after arriving in St. Louis, we took a cab to our youth hostel...but, rather than pick us up and drop us off at our destination, our particular cab did 3 or 4 stops, picking up and dropping off the driver's buddies that he encountered on the road as he pleased. Weird, but super friendly I suppose.
We get to our youth hostel, which is super nice and clean (and about 10 USD a night) and we literally never even gave our names or any sort of identification to check in...we just walked in, were handed a key, and told to have a pleasant stay. Because that is the equivalent of a Senegalese security system. And it's a pretty uneventful day until we meet our new hostel friend: her name is Karina, and she's an Ivoirian who currently lives in Canada and just graduated from Boston University, spending 8 months in West Africa on a fellowship doing microfinancing research. She's great because 1) she's super friendly and awesome, and 2) she's African and proceeded to get us African prices on everything for the next 2 days. Score for us!
Day 2: We wake up early and meet a Mauritanian shop owner who invites us to Ataaya...more on that later. We go to the Guembeul wildlife reserve, where we see monkeys, gazelles, tortoises, and an umber of other African animals (so now we feel legitimized in coming here). Then we realize that there is no transportation to get home so...we stand on the side of the road waiting for a taxi to pass us.
Mom and Dad you might want to skip this next part.
And then we accidentally hitchhiked!
A man in a regular car pullqs up...we assumed he was a clando taxi. We greet him and ask how much to go to St. Louis and he says "C'est gratuit! Montez!" ("It's free! Get in!") So we all climb aboard and after about 5 minutes of drivign and chatting (his son is at Cheikh Anta Diop University as well, blah blah blah) I have the sudden epiphany that...we are currently hitchhiking. But the thing is, it really didn't feel like it-people just have a different idea of hospitality (and safety, I suppose) here...which was further proved when, halfway through our ride, we pull over to pick up an old lady walking in the heat with a cane as well. It was one of those moments where I felt liek I never want to go back to American social interactions.
Anyways, we make it back to St. Louis safely just in time for Ataaya with our new Mauritanian friend...during which we watch Al Jazeera and discuss the North African political situation with the vendor and his young son. It was surreal to say the least.
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully...until dinnertime, because as we were walking home, we realize we are being followed by a fou (crazy person), who drops his pants and picks up his pace to catch up to us. So Karina whips out her pepper spray and we sprint home, luckily not having to use it, locking ourselves safely in our hostel.
Day 3:Nothing too exciting, excpet that we received another attaya invitation, this time from a Senegalese man in the town. We accept, and turns out he serves ataaya to just about every person in the community: there's a crowd of about 10 of us seated on the sidewalk outside of his store front, and the women are all trying to teach us Wolof and chat with us-it was really nice. Until a drunk/fou comes up and starts babbling/proposing marriage to me, ignoring my pelase of "Bayyil lii nga def" (stop what you're doing), at which point Fatou, the eldest, most authoritative looking woman of the group gets up and dumps a cup of hot tea of the man and chases him away. And then she made us start a dance circle, and decided to rename us all...based on thze size of our hips. Awkward and reaaaally uncomfortable for us toubabs, but apparently that's a normal thing to do here. So Jenn is now Fonde, I am now Lax, and Amy, being the skinny one, is laalo. In case any of you are plannign on travelling to senegal: don't unless you are fine discussing very personal things, such as diarrhea and your weight, with complete strangers.
Anyways, byt the end of our 2 hour ataaya session, Lamine, one of the men, invited us to see his welding studio the next morning. Which we obviously decided to do, because, what the hell, we'd already been hitchhiking,why not just do every dangerous thing offered to us?
Day 4: We stop at Lamine's workshop and he teaches us how to weld. It's called soudure in French...and it's really an art form. They have such limited, run-down equipment, and yet are able to make absolutely stuinning pieces...us girls? Less so able. It was terrifying. And hot. But we did it, and it was a fun way to close out the St. Louis portion of our trip.
Alright so I'm off...we leave for Saly in a bit, which will be a much less exciting, more lounging on the beach type of vacation. I just wanted to check in and let you all know that I am sill alive...and I will be in touch when I am back again in Dakar. Ba beneen yoon.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
March 17
Hello all-
Finished my exams for the week and just have to sit through 2 more classes tomorrow and then spring break woo! Very excited to take a sept-pace taxi (basically a regular taxi that they cram 7 random people into who are all going to roughly the same place) for 5-7 hours to St. Louis with 2 friends from my program...at the very least, I'm sure we'll have some interesting stories about the randos who end up all cozy with us in the car.
So this week, we had our usual adventure Wednesday (nobody on our program has class after 11am on Wednesdays, so a small group of us has decided to make Wednesdays our day to cross off the sights to see in the Lonely Planet)...this week's edition: Les Almadies. La Point des Almadies is the Western-most point in Africa-it's really beautiful, obviously has a market, and obviously, being a seaside, touristy spot, has delicious food. We went to a place called Sweet Coffee (which sells, *gasp*, REAL COFFEE, not cafe touba!), so naturally we all indulged. And afterwards, we went on what seemed like a wild goose chase searching for this artist's atelier, and after about 2 hours of circling around Les Almadies and N'Gor (another quartier), we found it...in the first place we tried (and missed it). Anyways, it's this place called Ceramiques des Almadies, owned by this French expat who's lived in Senegal forever...and he doesn't seem to get a ton of business, so he literally gave us a tour of his entire studio, from his firing kiln, to his own artwork, to works of art from other famous Senegalese artists. I'm finding that it's these random little out-of-the-way spots that seem to be the best here (mostly because you're not being harassed by a zillion Senegalese men asking for your number/money).
Let's see...well, I've been teaching lessons regularly at my school, and it's been going great (I've been making lesson plans and teaching at least one bloc of classes for both English and Geography courses now every day)...except for the part where one of the teachers made me call roll. Which was embarassing and probably really culturally offensive because I am absolutely positive that I did not pronounce a single name correctly (and often said masculine/feminine forms where inappropriate). Oops. Oh well, I'll count it as a part of my cultural education. It's just that I have since realized that there is nothing more horrifying than getting laughed at my a classroom of 70 plus 12 year olds. If I plan on a career in education I should probably get over that at some point in the near future.
Other than that, it's been a pretty standard week...I'm sure I will have lots more to blog about after my spring break trip. Until then, take care, and I'll be back on the 27th, Inshallah. Ba beneen yoon.
Finished my exams for the week and just have to sit through 2 more classes tomorrow and then spring break woo! Very excited to take a sept-pace taxi (basically a regular taxi that they cram 7 random people into who are all going to roughly the same place) for 5-7 hours to St. Louis with 2 friends from my program...at the very least, I'm sure we'll have some interesting stories about the randos who end up all cozy with us in the car.
So this week, we had our usual adventure Wednesday (nobody on our program has class after 11am on Wednesdays, so a small group of us has decided to make Wednesdays our day to cross off the sights to see in the Lonely Planet)...this week's edition: Les Almadies. La Point des Almadies is the Western-most point in Africa-it's really beautiful, obviously has a market, and obviously, being a seaside, touristy spot, has delicious food. We went to a place called Sweet Coffee (which sells, *gasp*, REAL COFFEE, not cafe touba!), so naturally we all indulged. And afterwards, we went on what seemed like a wild goose chase searching for this artist's atelier, and after about 2 hours of circling around Les Almadies and N'Gor (another quartier), we found it...in the first place we tried (and missed it). Anyways, it's this place called Ceramiques des Almadies, owned by this French expat who's lived in Senegal forever...and he doesn't seem to get a ton of business, so he literally gave us a tour of his entire studio, from his firing kiln, to his own artwork, to works of art from other famous Senegalese artists. I'm finding that it's these random little out-of-the-way spots that seem to be the best here (mostly because you're not being harassed by a zillion Senegalese men asking for your number/money).
Let's see...well, I've been teaching lessons regularly at my school, and it's been going great (I've been making lesson plans and teaching at least one bloc of classes for both English and Geography courses now every day)...except for the part where one of the teachers made me call roll. Which was embarassing and probably really culturally offensive because I am absolutely positive that I did not pronounce a single name correctly (and often said masculine/feminine forms where inappropriate). Oops. Oh well, I'll count it as a part of my cultural education. It's just that I have since realized that there is nothing more horrifying than getting laughed at my a classroom of 70 plus 12 year olds. If I plan on a career in education I should probably get over that at some point in the near future.
Other than that, it's been a pretty standard week...I'm sure I will have lots more to blog about after my spring break trip. Until then, take care, and I'll be back on the 27th, Inshallah. Ba beneen yoon.
Monday, March 14, 2011
March 14
Today is the official half-way point, which is crazy. And 35 new foreign students (none of whom speak any French or Wolof, incidentally) just arrived at WARC and now I feel like I've been here forever. It's weird.
Nothing too life-changing this weekend...did laundry for like 50 hours this weekend with the girls and then had a nail-painting/candy-eating party afterwards (a very special thanks to all of you readers who contributed to that activity). BUT more importantly Spring Break starts on Friday afternoon, so that should be fun.
OH and this morning I had one special Senegalese experience happen on the way to school. I was riding the death machine/kaar rapide per usual, and then suddenly, we turned off our normal route on Rue Cheikh Anta Diop and I started panicking, thinking I had gotten on the wrong one...or had chosen a rogue driver who was off to kidnap us. Either way, not good. However, afetr about 20 seconds I realize we're headed for a gas station. Apparently, the kaar was just running low and needed to fuel up...while 50-plus passengers sat inside, waiting.
Oh, Senegal, efficiency just really isn't your thing.
Oh and then today at the secondary school where I work, I broke up a cat fight between two girls in 5ieme! One pulled out the other one's fake hair and all hell broke loose. Luckily, being a freakish looking white person though, I hold the particular power of being able to immediiately command the attention of everyone in a room so they stopped and listened to me when I yelled at them in Wolof. Score one for the toubabs!
Class was cancelled today (again) because of the strike, but apparently on Friday they're going to start hosting University classes here at WARC so that us foreigners get our moneys' worth. And also so that we don't have to find our way through the armed guards and clouds of tear gas to get to class there. Things are lookign up!
Anyways, I'm off, but I hope you all had a great weekend, and I'll write again soon, Inshallah.
Nothing too life-changing this weekend...did laundry for like 50 hours this weekend with the girls and then had a nail-painting/candy-eating party afterwards (a very special thanks to all of you readers who contributed to that activity). BUT more importantly Spring Break starts on Friday afternoon, so that should be fun.
OH and this morning I had one special Senegalese experience happen on the way to school. I was riding the death machine/kaar rapide per usual, and then suddenly, we turned off our normal route on Rue Cheikh Anta Diop and I started panicking, thinking I had gotten on the wrong one...or had chosen a rogue driver who was off to kidnap us. Either way, not good. However, afetr about 20 seconds I realize we're headed for a gas station. Apparently, the kaar was just running low and needed to fuel up...while 50-plus passengers sat inside, waiting.
Oh, Senegal, efficiency just really isn't your thing.
Oh and then today at the secondary school where I work, I broke up a cat fight between two girls in 5ieme! One pulled out the other one's fake hair and all hell broke loose. Luckily, being a freakish looking white person though, I hold the particular power of being able to immediiately command the attention of everyone in a room so they stopped and listened to me when I yelled at them in Wolof. Score one for the toubabs!
Class was cancelled today (again) because of the strike, but apparently on Friday they're going to start hosting University classes here at WARC so that us foreigners get our moneys' worth. And also so that we don't have to find our way through the armed guards and clouds of tear gas to get to class there. Things are lookign up!
Anyways, I'm off, but I hope you all had a great weekend, and I'll write again soon, Inshallah.
Friday, March 11, 2011
March 11
OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS my house just got another bathroom. Apparently, it's been there all along but was just a hole in the floor of a random room in the back of my house but now there's a toilet and a working shower head in there too so now I don't have to go through my grandmother/Tabara's room every time I need to go! Yay!
Also, Professor Sene just got back from America and brought us like 50 jars of peanut butter so I just had the best brunch ever. Senegalese peanut butter (pate d'arichide) is made without any sort of sugar or deliciousness so it's just reallllly not the same.
And finally, today is our official 2 month anniversary...and Monday is our halfway point! Time has been flying...nothing too epic, but we're all definitely in a routine now (except for our University classes, which are now suspended indefinitely because now, not only are the professors on strike, but the students are too! And they got teargassed by the police yesterday because they had pellet guns and rocks and stuff and were getting violent. So...yeah). And next week we have exams and then Spring Break (I'll be off to St. Louis and Saly) so there will hopefully be better stories for you guys from my adventuring there...ba ci kanam.
Also, Professor Sene just got back from America and brought us like 50 jars of peanut butter so I just had the best brunch ever. Senegalese peanut butter (pate d'arichide) is made without any sort of sugar or deliciousness so it's just reallllly not the same.
And finally, today is our official 2 month anniversary...and Monday is our halfway point! Time has been flying...nothing too epic, but we're all definitely in a routine now (except for our University classes, which are now suspended indefinitely because now, not only are the professors on strike, but the students are too! And they got teargassed by the police yesterday because they had pellet guns and rocks and stuff and were getting violent. So...yeah). And next week we have exams and then Spring Break (I'll be off to St. Louis and Saly) so there will hopefully be better stories for you guys from my adventuring there...ba ci kanam.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
March 9
Ok, so I really don't have anything too exciting and Africa-y to report, mostly because my parents have been visiting for the past several days and I have been avoiding everything from my regular daily life like it's my job.
However, I did take them to our first Senegalese professional soccer game...which was actually just what you would expect from a Senegalese sporting event. Tickets were cheap (like a dollar to get in), women were scarce, and the line consisting of 10 people to get in took roughly a half hour to get through. And the second you bought your ticket, they ripped it into shreds and tossed it on the ground. Because waste and pollution are not problems here.
The game itself was about at the level of a mediocre high school boys' soccer team...it's ambiguous how much they train together, or what exactly their coaches' roles are. And because as youth players, they just play small-sided games in dirt and sand, the goalkeeping is actually comical to watch. Like sometimes they can't even kick the ball out of the 18 yard box on goal kicks. But I will say that given the situation of the country, it's actually quite remarkable that they even have a league at all....and the fans are great, and they also sold peanuts for less than 5 cents per bag, so you really can't complain about the ambiance.
Oh and also real family met host family last night...which was lovely and basically a mime-fest, considering that they speak zero overlapping languages. But now the curiosity on both ends has been satisfied and my real family knows that I'm not living in squalor and being abused so yay.
Ummm that's about all I've got for you today...I'll post again soon.
However, I did take them to our first Senegalese professional soccer game...which was actually just what you would expect from a Senegalese sporting event. Tickets were cheap (like a dollar to get in), women were scarce, and the line consisting of 10 people to get in took roughly a half hour to get through. And the second you bought your ticket, they ripped it into shreds and tossed it on the ground. Because waste and pollution are not problems here.
The game itself was about at the level of a mediocre high school boys' soccer team...it's ambiguous how much they train together, or what exactly their coaches' roles are. And because as youth players, they just play small-sided games in dirt and sand, the goalkeeping is actually comical to watch. Like sometimes they can't even kick the ball out of the 18 yard box on goal kicks. But I will say that given the situation of the country, it's actually quite remarkable that they even have a league at all....and the fans are great, and they also sold peanuts for less than 5 cents per bag, so you really can't complain about the ambiance.
Oh and also real family met host family last night...which was lovely and basically a mime-fest, considering that they speak zero overlapping languages. But now the curiosity on both ends has been satisfied and my real family knows that I'm not living in squalor and being abused so yay.
Ummm that's about all I've got for you today...I'll post again soon.
Monday, March 7, 2011
March 7
Okkkk so I am back from Toubacouta and while it would be impossible to fill you in on all of the details/mishaps on the weekend, I can give you a brief overview and some highlights of the trip. So here we go.
So we stayed in a rural village practically right on the border of Gambia called Keur Moussa (yes, also the name of the monastery we visited, but they are unaffiliated), which is the village where Wally, one of our program directors, was born and raised. Each student was assigned to a new host family that spoke exclusively Wolof (yikes), where we were to be treated "as though we were the son or daughter of the family," meaning that we were asked to help out with daily tasks to really experience life in a rural village. Which basically meant that us womenfolk got to experience the following activities:
Catching a chicken to be slaughtered for dinner
Dismantling said chicken
Cooking said chicken
Peeling several kilos of onions and potatoes
Making beignets
Drawing water from the well and transporting the water in buckets on our heads...which, by the way, is soooo much harder than it looks
Pounding millet, using a human-sized mortar and pestle
Playing with the children and carrying them around strapped to our backs
And the men did this:
Lounged around in the shade
Played with the kids
That's all.
So basically I have decided that I really love America and am super happy that this was just for a weekend...especially since there is no electricity, running water, or any sort of bathroom facility there. Although I started to think I really did belong there when, at 1am, after a late-night dance circle with all of the village in attendance, as we were preparing for bed, my host mother non-chalantly strips off her boubou, and plops down naked, on our shared bed, and proceeds to devour an entire chicken. Because let's be honest, the number of times I've had an urge to do something similar in the United States late at night is a little bit embarrassing, seeing as it's entirely socially unacceptable there. Shoot. Looks like I'll have to forego that perk if I do return home then.
Beyond that, here were some highlight:
We saw our first real-live wild monkey, just strolling about as if it was no big deal. But obviously it ws.
We all got to ride motorcycles...without helmets or any sort of protective equipment, entirely off-roading it with no visible medical care in case of an accident. Just added to the thrill. And I'm pretty sure I want a moped now.
We took a pirogue through the mangrove forest on the river, which was absolutely stunning...for the first time, I felt like we really got to experience the African wilderness, rather than exhaust-polluted Dakar.
We watched a lutte tournament...which, yes, is Senegalese wrestling, but also dancing and chanting and drumming. It's more of a general spectacle, and also I need to add that Senegalese men fight dirty. Its like WWF, but real. Like Large men dressed in nothing but spanky pants and a colorful loincloth are throwing sand in each others' eyes and punching each other in the face, and throwing each other over their shoulders and into the crowd and stuff. It's a little terrifying. But mostly awesome.
We also took part in about 6 mandatory traditional dance circles...seeing as electricity isn't really a 'thing' in rural villages, theer are other more creative forms of entertainment, the foremost of which is music and dance (which is also a major form of communication and ceremonial life). Basically they just loved harassing the toubabs into being publicly ridiculed for our lack of rhythm and grace. But I suppose it's not that embarrassing, seeing as we will likely never see those villagers again, and I plan on destroying all photographic evidence that surfaces of these nights.
Let me see...I think I hit most of the major events of the weekend. It was really an eye-opening experience, but while I am so happy to have gone, I am even happier to return to Ouakam (with a quick, much needed stop at the Radisson Blu Hotel with Bruce and Sandy in between for my first hot shower in 2 months...Alhamdulilai). I'll keep you informed if anything else comes to mind.
Ba ci kanam
So we stayed in a rural village practically right on the border of Gambia called Keur Moussa (yes, also the name of the monastery we visited, but they are unaffiliated), which is the village where Wally, one of our program directors, was born and raised. Each student was assigned to a new host family that spoke exclusively Wolof (yikes), where we were to be treated "as though we were the son or daughter of the family," meaning that we were asked to help out with daily tasks to really experience life in a rural village. Which basically meant that us womenfolk got to experience the following activities:
Catching a chicken to be slaughtered for dinner
Dismantling said chicken
Cooking said chicken
Peeling several kilos of onions and potatoes
Making beignets
Drawing water from the well and transporting the water in buckets on our heads...which, by the way, is soooo much harder than it looks
Pounding millet, using a human-sized mortar and pestle
Playing with the children and carrying them around strapped to our backs
And the men did this:
Lounged around in the shade
Played with the kids
That's all.
So basically I have decided that I really love America and am super happy that this was just for a weekend...especially since there is no electricity, running water, or any sort of bathroom facility there. Although I started to think I really did belong there when, at 1am, after a late-night dance circle with all of the village in attendance, as we were preparing for bed, my host mother non-chalantly strips off her boubou, and plops down naked, on our shared bed, and proceeds to devour an entire chicken. Because let's be honest, the number of times I've had an urge to do something similar in the United States late at night is a little bit embarrassing, seeing as it's entirely socially unacceptable there. Shoot. Looks like I'll have to forego that perk if I do return home then.
Beyond that, here were some highlight:
We saw our first real-live wild monkey, just strolling about as if it was no big deal. But obviously it ws.
We all got to ride motorcycles...without helmets or any sort of protective equipment, entirely off-roading it with no visible medical care in case of an accident. Just added to the thrill. And I'm pretty sure I want a moped now.
We took a pirogue through the mangrove forest on the river, which was absolutely stunning...for the first time, I felt like we really got to experience the African wilderness, rather than exhaust-polluted Dakar.
We watched a lutte tournament...which, yes, is Senegalese wrestling, but also dancing and chanting and drumming. It's more of a general spectacle, and also I need to add that Senegalese men fight dirty. Its like WWF, but real. Like Large men dressed in nothing but spanky pants and a colorful loincloth are throwing sand in each others' eyes and punching each other in the face, and throwing each other over their shoulders and into the crowd and stuff. It's a little terrifying. But mostly awesome.
We also took part in about 6 mandatory traditional dance circles...seeing as electricity isn't really a 'thing' in rural villages, theer are other more creative forms of entertainment, the foremost of which is music and dance (which is also a major form of communication and ceremonial life). Basically they just loved harassing the toubabs into being publicly ridiculed for our lack of rhythm and grace. But I suppose it's not that embarrassing, seeing as we will likely never see those villagers again, and I plan on destroying all photographic evidence that surfaces of these nights.
Let me see...I think I hit most of the major events of the weekend. It was really an eye-opening experience, but while I am so happy to have gone, I am even happier to return to Ouakam (with a quick, much needed stop at the Radisson Blu Hotel with Bruce and Sandy in between for my first hot shower in 2 months...Alhamdulilai). I'll keep you informed if anything else comes to mind.
Ba ci kanam
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
March 2
Very little exciting news to post for the week...accidentally wandered into an art gallery (with really creepy paintings) with a friend on the program while looking for a glass art exhibit...so we didn't exactly find what we were looking for, but we got to feel superior to everyone for the rest of the day because we did something "cultural..." and then got ice cream.
Umm today a bunch of us are going to this international arts/artisans' fair in Liberte VI...it's an annual event, and it's supposed to be really cool, so I'm excited for a little exploring. And shopping. And avoiding getting mugged again.
Tomorrow morning we leave for Toubacouta, a small rural village near the Gambian border...we get one night in a hotel, and 2 nights with a new host family, and from what I've heard, this place is far more rustic than the conditions in which we've been living up til this point.
Yikes.
And then my mom and dad are coming to visit me! So I probably won't post for a while (since I'm pretty sure they comprise 2/3 of my readership anyways) but I will remember to relay any bizarre stories that happen in Toubacouta (and based on how my excursions have gone thus far, I'm sure there will be plenty). So, I hope everyone has a great weekend, and I will be in touch. Ba beneen yoon
Umm today a bunch of us are going to this international arts/artisans' fair in Liberte VI...it's an annual event, and it's supposed to be really cool, so I'm excited for a little exploring. And shopping. And avoiding getting mugged again.
Tomorrow morning we leave for Toubacouta, a small rural village near the Gambian border...we get one night in a hotel, and 2 nights with a new host family, and from what I've heard, this place is far more rustic than the conditions in which we've been living up til this point.
Yikes.
And then my mom and dad are coming to visit me! So I probably won't post for a while (since I'm pretty sure they comprise 2/3 of my readership anyways) but I will remember to relay any bizarre stories that happen in Toubacouta (and based on how my excursions have gone thus far, I'm sure there will be plenty). So, I hope everyone has a great weekend, and I will be in touch. Ba beneen yoon
Monday, February 28, 2011
February 28
Hi friends!
Ok so this weekend was obviously a Real World style adventure (a house full of drunken twenty something year olds from different backgrounds all sharing one kitchen and one bathroom-drama ensues). HOWEVER before I tell you anything that happened there, I feel the need to share with you a bizarre occurance from this morning: I got stink-bombed by the police.
Well, not just me, but everyone at the school where I teach...which is kind of even weirder. Basically, there have been these professors' strikes at the University, which have now devolved into students' strikes (they're not receiving their scholarship money, nor the education they were promised, as the professors are on strike)...and apparently, revolutionary fever is just in the air because now, this has led to rioting amongst even younger students-like those in high school and middle school. Anyways, a few hours into our classes today, we start to hear some disturbances outside of the classroom-students are yelling, and throwing rocks and things at the sides of the buildings, and are generally just causing an uproar. As they start to get violent, the police get called in, and in an effort to disperse the crowds, they started throwing smoke bombs and stink bombs...and being the trained, careful professionals that they are, they throw these "peace-making agents" DIRECTLY INTO THE CLASSROOMS. Because that's going to help.
So everyone panics and flees the classroom (the smell was awful and everyone was mostly just confused and scared) and so that was the end of classes for the day...I went with the teachers to hide out in the teachers' lounge until the police got the riots under control (where we also tended to a student who had a seizure in respinse to the gases used in the stink bombs...because why would you ever call in a trained medical professional to deal with something like that? Luckily she ended up being fine, but it just seemed a bit...odd).
So that was my morning; apparently this isn't even too much of an anomaly, the teachers indicated that this is not the first time that this has happened in the recent past. I just can't believe that students have to "learn" in an environment like that.
Anyways, back to Ile N'Gor. Well, we ended up only staying oen night...as we were kicked out for the rest of the weekend because apparently, they only wanted 8 people staying in the house...not 17. Whoops. You would think that teh proprietor would be more laid back about this sort of thing, since this is Senegal (see example above), but hey, what can you do. On Friday night, I took a little star-gazing walk with my friend Jenn, where we were met by a new "friend;" a man that lived in the house next door...and felt no need to wear pant. Or any underwear. So he just stood there talking to us for several minutes, ending each phrase with "il n'y a aucune de probleme" ("there is no problem here") despite the fact that there was, in fact, the very legitimate problem of his exposure. He left us to go back inside (where we prayed he'd put on some pants), but then returned to talk to us again, sans pantalons, and so naturally Jenn and I took off at a dead sprint back to our own house.
Yikes.
Besides that, there were no major disasters...spent the next day on the beach, then used our money we got back to go out to eat at this fabulous little Turkish place with a second story terrace (best meal I've had in Senegal thus far)...and then we bought copious amounts of chocolate and peanuts and watched Eat Pray Love. Because we were in that kind of a mood. It was a great little getaway weekend, as promised-kind of a nice escape from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Sooooo that's about all I've got for you today...I'll post again before we leave for our excursion to Toubacouta on Thursday. Ba ci kanam
Ok so this weekend was obviously a Real World style adventure (a house full of drunken twenty something year olds from different backgrounds all sharing one kitchen and one bathroom-drama ensues). HOWEVER before I tell you anything that happened there, I feel the need to share with you a bizarre occurance from this morning: I got stink-bombed by the police.
Well, not just me, but everyone at the school where I teach...which is kind of even weirder. Basically, there have been these professors' strikes at the University, which have now devolved into students' strikes (they're not receiving their scholarship money, nor the education they were promised, as the professors are on strike)...and apparently, revolutionary fever is just in the air because now, this has led to rioting amongst even younger students-like those in high school and middle school. Anyways, a few hours into our classes today, we start to hear some disturbances outside of the classroom-students are yelling, and throwing rocks and things at the sides of the buildings, and are generally just causing an uproar. As they start to get violent, the police get called in, and in an effort to disperse the crowds, they started throwing smoke bombs and stink bombs...and being the trained, careful professionals that they are, they throw these "peace-making agents" DIRECTLY INTO THE CLASSROOMS. Because that's going to help.
So everyone panics and flees the classroom (the smell was awful and everyone was mostly just confused and scared) and so that was the end of classes for the day...I went with the teachers to hide out in the teachers' lounge until the police got the riots under control (where we also tended to a student who had a seizure in respinse to the gases used in the stink bombs...because why would you ever call in a trained medical professional to deal with something like that? Luckily she ended up being fine, but it just seemed a bit...odd).
So that was my morning; apparently this isn't even too much of an anomaly, the teachers indicated that this is not the first time that this has happened in the recent past. I just can't believe that students have to "learn" in an environment like that.
Anyways, back to Ile N'Gor. Well, we ended up only staying oen night...as we were kicked out for the rest of the weekend because apparently, they only wanted 8 people staying in the house...not 17. Whoops. You would think that teh proprietor would be more laid back about this sort of thing, since this is Senegal (see example above), but hey, what can you do. On Friday night, I took a little star-gazing walk with my friend Jenn, where we were met by a new "friend;" a man that lived in the house next door...and felt no need to wear pant. Or any underwear. So he just stood there talking to us for several minutes, ending each phrase with "il n'y a aucune de probleme" ("there is no problem here") despite the fact that there was, in fact, the very legitimate problem of his exposure. He left us to go back inside (where we prayed he'd put on some pants), but then returned to talk to us again, sans pantalons, and so naturally Jenn and I took off at a dead sprint back to our own house.
Yikes.
Besides that, there were no major disasters...spent the next day on the beach, then used our money we got back to go out to eat at this fabulous little Turkish place with a second story terrace (best meal I've had in Senegal thus far)...and then we bought copious amounts of chocolate and peanuts and watched Eat Pray Love. Because we were in that kind of a mood. It was a great little getaway weekend, as promised-kind of a nice escape from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Sooooo that's about all I've got for you today...I'll post again before we leave for our excursion to Toubacouta on Thursday. Ba ci kanam
Thursday, February 24, 2011
February 24
Today I had my first "full day" at the middle school-I have no class on Thursdays, so it looks like I'll be working from about 9am to 3pm there. It's still exam week for the students, and so since there was not too much for me to do (other than administer an English exam, which included reading all of the prompts and passages out loud for comprehension, followed by answering any of the students' questions regarding the exam), one of the professors I have been working with, M. Aidara, decided to take me out exploring. During the lunch-hour equivalent, we drove to his son's private preschool, to show me the contrast between public and private education in Senegal. Whereas in the public school, there is inadequate space and seating for students, overcrowding, and a major lack of materials, this preschool looked like an upscale Montessori school in the US. It was wonderful, the director gave us a tour, which included the general education room, where students help each other learn numbers and letters, the kitchen, where students learn nutrition and some basic "cooking," the nursery, which includes a vegetable garden, as well as a chicken and pigeon roost, a rabbit hutch, and a goat pen, so that the students learn, in the words of the director, to be cultivators, not hunters, and develop an appreciation for nature and their environment (which Senegalese children REALLY need, based on the obscene amounts of littering and general pollution found throughout Dakar), and more. They even have a computer for the students to use, so that they can develop basic technological skills. The most shocking part of this school (called Case des tout petit enfants de HLM, by the way), however, is not the quality, but the cost. M. Aidara told me that each month, one only pays 5,000 CFA, or about 10 USD to send one's child there. Which absolutely blows my mind because in the US, that could barely cover an hour of babysitting, let alone a month of childcare and top notch education, for your kid.
Anyways, it was a really interesting experience...and afterwards, we dropped his son off at his mother-in-law's house (because that's normal of him to take me there, apparently), and now she has been added to the army of middle-aged Senegalese women intent on finding me a Senegalese husband (her first question upon meeting me being, "Tu es 'Madame' ou 'mademoiselle?'"). And then she gave me a coconut to take home to my host family! All in all, not a bad day.
Now I'm just sitting at Caesar's (a faux-American restaurant with free wifi!) and looking forward to some relaxation tomorrow at Ile N'Gor...I'll let you know how that goes! Ba ci kanam
Anyways, it was a really interesting experience...and afterwards, we dropped his son off at his mother-in-law's house (because that's normal of him to take me there, apparently), and now she has been added to the army of middle-aged Senegalese women intent on finding me a Senegalese husband (her first question upon meeting me being, "Tu es 'Madame' ou 'mademoiselle?'"). And then she gave me a coconut to take home to my host family! All in all, not a bad day.
Now I'm just sitting at Caesar's (a faux-American restaurant with free wifi!) and looking forward to some relaxation tomorrow at Ile N'Gor...I'll let you know how that goes! Ba ci kanam
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
February 23
Hello friends!
Unfortunately, I really don't have much to tell you...other than a few random little episodes I guess. Last night, I was watching TV with Tabara when the power went off, and all of a sudden, every adult I have ever met in the town of Ouakam was in our living room surrounding us, screaming at one another in Wolof. Obviously, due to the volume and pace of the interaction, I understood nothing, and after about an hour of listening to the fighting (which was punctuated by the newborn baby, Mohammed, Cole, and Maguette crying in the background), they dispersed as suddenly as they appeared. After about 15 minutes of shellshocked silence, Aminata called me out to accompany her to pick up some millet from a woman who lives nearby, and on the walk, I asked her what had happened. I was envisioning some conflict involving a major issue (I don't know, like murder or theft or something worthy of the melee in my house), but according to Aminata, the entire fight consisted of the fact that her mother, who is pregnant, felt a little ill that day and said she couldn't cook lunch. And then everyone freaked out. So, while Senegalese people often seem to be great at letting the little things go, and focusing more on the big picture, there are certainly times where even their common logic takes a back seat to cultural decorum.
Yikes.
Oh and also, it turns out I've been scaring all of the little children in the neighborhood...babies who have never seen a white person before tend to cry when they first meet me. But, according to my host sisters, it has nothing to do with my skin color. Apparently, it's because of my "scary green eyes." Uhh what? The explanation given was that because my eyes are so much lighter than everyone else's here, they think they look green...and scary. Like a monster. I feel really bad because the kids are all so cute and the mothers all think it's super funny to watch them panic as they are forced to approach me. Luckily, they're all starting to get used to me, but still.
Alright well Wolof class is about to start so I'm off... hopefully I'll come up with some more excitign things to share with you in the next few days. A tout a l'heure
Unfortunately, I really don't have much to tell you...other than a few random little episodes I guess. Last night, I was watching TV with Tabara when the power went off, and all of a sudden, every adult I have ever met in the town of Ouakam was in our living room surrounding us, screaming at one another in Wolof. Obviously, due to the volume and pace of the interaction, I understood nothing, and after about an hour of listening to the fighting (which was punctuated by the newborn baby, Mohammed, Cole, and Maguette crying in the background), they dispersed as suddenly as they appeared. After about 15 minutes of shellshocked silence, Aminata called me out to accompany her to pick up some millet from a woman who lives nearby, and on the walk, I asked her what had happened. I was envisioning some conflict involving a major issue (I don't know, like murder or theft or something worthy of the melee in my house), but according to Aminata, the entire fight consisted of the fact that her mother, who is pregnant, felt a little ill that day and said she couldn't cook lunch. And then everyone freaked out. So, while Senegalese people often seem to be great at letting the little things go, and focusing more on the big picture, there are certainly times where even their common logic takes a back seat to cultural decorum.
Yikes.
Oh and also, it turns out I've been scaring all of the little children in the neighborhood...babies who have never seen a white person before tend to cry when they first meet me. But, according to my host sisters, it has nothing to do with my skin color. Apparently, it's because of my "scary green eyes." Uhh what? The explanation given was that because my eyes are so much lighter than everyone else's here, they think they look green...and scary. Like a monster. I feel really bad because the kids are all so cute and the mothers all think it's super funny to watch them panic as they are forced to approach me. Luckily, they're all starting to get used to me, but still.
Alright well Wolof class is about to start so I'm off... hopefully I'll come up with some more excitign things to share with you in the next few days. A tout a l'heure
Monday, February 21, 2011
February 21
Nanga def
So sadly our salsa dancing plans fell through-everyone was all set to go and as we were walking doan the sketchy alleyway towards where we thought the club, New Africa, was located, the power across Dakar went out. Makign it impossible for us to find the place (which likely didn't have power anyway)...and leaving us stranded in a dark alleyway. But, alhamdulilahi, ther was one building in all of Sacre Coeur III (the quartier we were in) with a power generator, and it was...a french patisserie! so, instead of dancing the night away, we ate our weight in chocolate pastries. Actually the night was far better than we anticipated.
Not a very eventful weekend...did laundry, started learning how to cook (much more to follow as I do more hands-on things), hung out with the family...the usual.
One exciting event of the weekend was when Colé, the perpetually energetic 3 year old girl, decided to pour her Ananas (popular pineapple soda drink) into the burning incense pot...and set it on fire. While I panicked (and where I assume any American parent would immediately call 911 and then send the child to a minimum of 5 years of therapy), the family responded by laughing and slapping the pot with a damp towel, subduing the flames. And, after this, they dangled Colé over the flames while she shrieked with laughter, pretending to cook her. And then she left the fire alone. It was a weird and mildly disturbing example of effective Senegalese parenting.
And speaking of children, today I started my internship with a local middle school by the name of Abdoulaye Mathurieu Diop...I'll be working in classrooms teaching English, French, History, and whatever else they need me for, doign whatever the teacher needs. Each classroom has about 85 students to one teacher, which is an absolutely insane ratio, so I'm happy to help however I can. Maryem, the teacher I work with on Mondays and Tuesdays, has been incredibly welcoming and helpful, and has been giving me all sorts of background information, on the schools, the students, the educational system, and more. I'll keep you posetd as I start to do more there!
That's all about I have for now, but I'll post again in the next few days. Mangiy dem, ba ci kanam.
So sadly our salsa dancing plans fell through-everyone was all set to go and as we were walking doan the sketchy alleyway towards where we thought the club, New Africa, was located, the power across Dakar went out. Makign it impossible for us to find the place (which likely didn't have power anyway)...and leaving us stranded in a dark alleyway. But, alhamdulilahi, ther was one building in all of Sacre Coeur III (the quartier we were in) with a power generator, and it was...a french patisserie! so, instead of dancing the night away, we ate our weight in chocolate pastries. Actually the night was far better than we anticipated.
Not a very eventful weekend...did laundry, started learning how to cook (much more to follow as I do more hands-on things), hung out with the family...the usual.
One exciting event of the weekend was when Colé, the perpetually energetic 3 year old girl, decided to pour her Ananas (popular pineapple soda drink) into the burning incense pot...and set it on fire. While I panicked (and where I assume any American parent would immediately call 911 and then send the child to a minimum of 5 years of therapy), the family responded by laughing and slapping the pot with a damp towel, subduing the flames. And, after this, they dangled Colé over the flames while she shrieked with laughter, pretending to cook her. And then she left the fire alone. It was a weird and mildly disturbing example of effective Senegalese parenting.
And speaking of children, today I started my internship with a local middle school by the name of Abdoulaye Mathurieu Diop...I'll be working in classrooms teaching English, French, History, and whatever else they need me for, doign whatever the teacher needs. Each classroom has about 85 students to one teacher, which is an absolutely insane ratio, so I'm happy to help however I can. Maryem, the teacher I work with on Mondays and Tuesdays, has been incredibly welcoming and helpful, and has been giving me all sorts of background information, on the schools, the students, the educational system, and more. I'll keep you posetd as I start to do more there!
That's all about I have for now, but I'll post again in the next few days. Mangiy dem, ba ci kanam.
Friday, February 18, 2011
February 18
So weird fact: apparently Tabara (my eldest host sister) got mugged at Gamou too! I didn't find out until yesterday when she and the rest of the family got back but it turns out Tivaouane just didn't go too well for the Diops this year. Her story is way sadder than mine: she went out to buy gifts for the little kids, and got disoriented on her way. She was alone, and some guy there offered to help her find her way...after about 20 minutes of leading her around the city and chatting, he suddenly turns and says, "actually, I don't know where you want to go!" and takes off, leaving Tabara alone to realize taht her pocket is unzipped and all her money gone. Luckily, she could hear the mosque in the distance from where the man left her, so she found her way back by following the chants. We bonded over trading traumatic stories yesterday while running errands for Yaay (Maman)...which ended in Tabara promising to teach me how to cook on Sunday (after laundry, of course), so that I could be utile (useful) and therefore get a husband. Prefereably a Senegalese one, apparently.
Oh, and speaking of food, I solved the mystery of the milk-rice; apparently, it's called "laax," and it's served on special occasions (we had it this week because of the baby-namming ceremonies), because it's fast and easy to prepare, allowing the women to spend less time cooking, and more time celebrating! It's actually a great system.
Tonight, several of the students on the program have decided to explore the Dakar nightlife a little more and try out New Africa, a well-known salsa club in Sacré Coeur III. Dance clubs just seem to be a less threatening, more casual environment than bars here, because Senegalese men can't force you to give them your cell phone number if you're too busy dancing to talk.
Beyond that, nothing else is really going on...hope everyone has a great weekend!
Oh, and speaking of food, I solved the mystery of the milk-rice; apparently, it's called "laax," and it's served on special occasions (we had it this week because of the baby-namming ceremonies), because it's fast and easy to prepare, allowing the women to spend less time cooking, and more time celebrating! It's actually a great system.
Tonight, several of the students on the program have decided to explore the Dakar nightlife a little more and try out New Africa, a well-known salsa club in Sacré Coeur III. Dance clubs just seem to be a less threatening, more casual environment than bars here, because Senegalese men can't force you to give them your cell phone number if you're too busy dancing to talk.
Beyond that, nothing else is really going on...hope everyone has a great weekend!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
February 18
Asalaam Maleikum
Sorry for the delay between posts...just got back from Tivaouane yesterday afternoon, but I'll fill you in on the previous week before I guiev you those details (if you want to skip directly to the excitement that ensued there...and trust me, there was much excitement, feel free to skip ahead).
Friday night was our official one month anniversary of being here in Dakar-so a group of about 6 of us decided to celebrate by eating Western food! We went to l'Institut Francais and ate our body weight in brie burgers and vegetables (I never thiought I'd say this, but I could KILL to have green food on a consistent basis), and clebrated with a victory toast of bissap cocktail...followed by live mbalax music at a local bar/club, Le Mermoz. All in all a solid celebration.
Then this weekend, Aminata taught me how to faire le menage (do housework), which included cleaning, sweeping, and other domestic chores which I am utterly unaccustomed to doing. They laugh at me because apparently i hold the broom wrong. I literally do not understand how my T-rex arms are supposed to do what these willowy Senegalese women do. Luckily it's not really a problem for the long run.
On Saturday, Aminata, Tabara and I went on another fabric shoppign excursion, because Aminata says that it's boring that I wear the same clothes all the time and I need to act more Senegalese if I ever hope to find myself a Senegalese husband. So we formed a plan that I would scout out what I wanted with Aminata, then we'd send Tabara in to buy it, in order to avoid the toubab price inflation. Worked lieka charm...but when Tabara called me in to pay the normal, fair price, the vendor got really upset and started yellign at us in Wolof. Pretty sure there was some inappropraite language used but I couldn't be positive. At any rate, by the end he wasn't even that mad, just impressed.
Sunday was our baby naming ceremony for Issakha and Neenyah's baby. His name is Papegueye, and everyone from the community came by the house at some piouitn durign the day to congratulate the parents and meet the little one, as well as to partake in celebratory feasting.
Ok on to Tivaouane recapping: so I ended up going with my host mother's sister, Mme Yaye, (who lives in a seperate house) and her daughter. Mme Yaye works at UCAD, and so we took a chartered bus along with other university employees to get to the Gamou celebrations. Now Tivaouane, if you were to look at a map, should take no longer than an hour or 2 from Dakar. However, to this estimate is derived by making the highly overly-ambitious assumption that there will eb paved roads for the trip. This is not the case. The journey took us over 4 hours (a majority of which is off roading), with no air conditioning and people packed into seats like sardines. Oh and because it is a religious pilgrimage, everyone is dressed in their finest tarditional garb-which means a long skirt or pant with a long sleeved long dress or boubou over it and a head scarf. For certain parts of the celebrations, it is even mandatory to cover your nose and mouth as well as your hair...and let me just say that I can never ever be a part of a faith that requires a hijab, for the sole reason that I simply cannot breathe. It was rough.
Arriving in Tivaouane was like stepping into a riot-masses of people were swarming everywhere, with vendors clamoring along the sides of the roads, harrassing all passers-by to look at their wares. Being the only toubab there, you can imagien I attracted a bit more unwanted attention from them. After disembarking from the bus, we pushed and shoved our way to our lodgings. Accomodations in Tivaouane are abandoned buildings rented out by locals to religious pilgrims-one room (about the size of a one room double dorm room) served 12 women-we slept on mats on the floor-and one bathrrom stall served everyone in the buildin,g (I'm assuming a few hundred residents). Also, by bathroom stall, I mean a tiny little cubicle with a hole in the ground and a bucket of rinsing water next to it. I like to think of it as "rustic."
Anyways, after sharing communal meals of rice and meat from a large tin pot, we ventured out into the city to visit with friends and acquaintances. And this is where the fun starts for me. So apparently in my traditional clothes, I no longer look white, but rather North African, and so instead of hearing "toubab" repeatedly shouted at me, I received a number of racial slurs generally reserved for North Africans. Which was weird, but a change of pace I suppose. And then, while pushing through a crowd with Mme Yaye and her daughter, a man punched me in the stomach, knocking me off balance, and as I was falling, stole my wallet and camera. Fortunately, as I was on my way down, I reached out to grab him in an attempt to regain my balance, not even realizing he was attampting to steal from me. Fortunately, in doign so, I slapped his hand and he dropped my phone (which I recovered) and so he only made off with my camera and the other contents of my wallet (that beign about 20 dollars and a photocopy of my ID-nothing real). The people around me were outraged and were all so kind and helpful. Unfortunately, the crowd being fantastic camouflage, the voleur got away, but at least minimal damage had been done.
After the incident, we returned to our room, where Mme Yaye proceeded to tell everyone in our path what had happened-gossip here is pretty much the primary form of communication. Anyways, everyone was very sympathetic and appropriately outraged that something like this could possibly happen in their country, and everyone was apologizing to me as if they themselves had perpetrated the act. It was really nice seeing how the community here reacts to help one another out.
Anyways, after the excitement died down, the real religious experience began-Gamous is an event where Muslims pray all night long, sleeping in intervals, and listen to the marabous, or leaders, speak and give sermons. Since all of these activities were conducted in either Arabic or Wolof, I didn't understand much, but it was certainly a sight to see. And despite all of the crowds and noise and confusion, being with so many people, all of whom are simply there to be a part of a religious community and pray, created an environment that allowed for intense meditation-all of the chaos sort of fades into white noise at a certain point. It was exhausting, but at the same time, relaxing.
Anyways, after a few hours of snatched sleep, we headed home at dawn, and I honestly have never in my life been so happy to see a cold bucket shower waiting for me. The rest of the day was spent in Ouakam waiting for friends, family, and neighbors to return at various times from their respective pilgrimages...the best part about all of this is that we eat reeeeally well, with fresh fruits and pastries to celebrate the holiday (beignets, or fried dough, being the highlight). And had an early night after a dinner of what teh students here have been referring to as "rice milk," a dish served either hot or cold consisting of milk/cream mixed with millet (or some sort of grain). It's kind of like yoghurt or oatmeal, just with a weird texture. It seems to be served every Sunday night (or every night that follows a day off of work), but we have yet to figure out the significance...I'll ask on Sunday.
Sorry for the lengthy post, I hope I didn't bore you all too much...I'll be sure to better keep up with writing so they don't need to be as long. Ba ci kanam
Sorry for the delay between posts...just got back from Tivaouane yesterday afternoon, but I'll fill you in on the previous week before I guiev you those details (if you want to skip directly to the excitement that ensued there...and trust me, there was much excitement, feel free to skip ahead).
Friday night was our official one month anniversary of being here in Dakar-so a group of about 6 of us decided to celebrate by eating Western food! We went to l'Institut Francais and ate our body weight in brie burgers and vegetables (I never thiought I'd say this, but I could KILL to have green food on a consistent basis), and clebrated with a victory toast of bissap cocktail...followed by live mbalax music at a local bar/club, Le Mermoz. All in all a solid celebration.
Then this weekend, Aminata taught me how to faire le menage (do housework), which included cleaning, sweeping, and other domestic chores which I am utterly unaccustomed to doing. They laugh at me because apparently i hold the broom wrong. I literally do not understand how my T-rex arms are supposed to do what these willowy Senegalese women do. Luckily it's not really a problem for the long run.
On Saturday, Aminata, Tabara and I went on another fabric shoppign excursion, because Aminata says that it's boring that I wear the same clothes all the time and I need to act more Senegalese if I ever hope to find myself a Senegalese husband. So we formed a plan that I would scout out what I wanted with Aminata, then we'd send Tabara in to buy it, in order to avoid the toubab price inflation. Worked lieka charm...but when Tabara called me in to pay the normal, fair price, the vendor got really upset and started yellign at us in Wolof. Pretty sure there was some inappropraite language used but I couldn't be positive. At any rate, by the end he wasn't even that mad, just impressed.
Sunday was our baby naming ceremony for Issakha and Neenyah's baby. His name is Papegueye, and everyone from the community came by the house at some piouitn durign the day to congratulate the parents and meet the little one, as well as to partake in celebratory feasting.
Ok on to Tivaouane recapping: so I ended up going with my host mother's sister, Mme Yaye, (who lives in a seperate house) and her daughter. Mme Yaye works at UCAD, and so we took a chartered bus along with other university employees to get to the Gamou celebrations. Now Tivaouane, if you were to look at a map, should take no longer than an hour or 2 from Dakar. However, to this estimate is derived by making the highly overly-ambitious assumption that there will eb paved roads for the trip. This is not the case. The journey took us over 4 hours (a majority of which is off roading), with no air conditioning and people packed into seats like sardines. Oh and because it is a religious pilgrimage, everyone is dressed in their finest tarditional garb-which means a long skirt or pant with a long sleeved long dress or boubou over it and a head scarf. For certain parts of the celebrations, it is even mandatory to cover your nose and mouth as well as your hair...and let me just say that I can never ever be a part of a faith that requires a hijab, for the sole reason that I simply cannot breathe. It was rough.
Arriving in Tivaouane was like stepping into a riot-masses of people were swarming everywhere, with vendors clamoring along the sides of the roads, harrassing all passers-by to look at their wares. Being the only toubab there, you can imagien I attracted a bit more unwanted attention from them. After disembarking from the bus, we pushed and shoved our way to our lodgings. Accomodations in Tivaouane are abandoned buildings rented out by locals to religious pilgrims-one room (about the size of a one room double dorm room) served 12 women-we slept on mats on the floor-and one bathrrom stall served everyone in the buildin,g (I'm assuming a few hundred residents). Also, by bathroom stall, I mean a tiny little cubicle with a hole in the ground and a bucket of rinsing water next to it. I like to think of it as "rustic."
Anyways, after sharing communal meals of rice and meat from a large tin pot, we ventured out into the city to visit with friends and acquaintances. And this is where the fun starts for me. So apparently in my traditional clothes, I no longer look white, but rather North African, and so instead of hearing "toubab" repeatedly shouted at me, I received a number of racial slurs generally reserved for North Africans. Which was weird, but a change of pace I suppose. And then, while pushing through a crowd with Mme Yaye and her daughter, a man punched me in the stomach, knocking me off balance, and as I was falling, stole my wallet and camera. Fortunately, as I was on my way down, I reached out to grab him in an attempt to regain my balance, not even realizing he was attampting to steal from me. Fortunately, in doign so, I slapped his hand and he dropped my phone (which I recovered) and so he only made off with my camera and the other contents of my wallet (that beign about 20 dollars and a photocopy of my ID-nothing real). The people around me were outraged and were all so kind and helpful. Unfortunately, the crowd being fantastic camouflage, the voleur got away, but at least minimal damage had been done.
After the incident, we returned to our room, where Mme Yaye proceeded to tell everyone in our path what had happened-gossip here is pretty much the primary form of communication. Anyways, everyone was very sympathetic and appropriately outraged that something like this could possibly happen in their country, and everyone was apologizing to me as if they themselves had perpetrated the act. It was really nice seeing how the community here reacts to help one another out.
Anyways, after the excitement died down, the real religious experience began-Gamous is an event where Muslims pray all night long, sleeping in intervals, and listen to the marabous, or leaders, speak and give sermons. Since all of these activities were conducted in either Arabic or Wolof, I didn't understand much, but it was certainly a sight to see. And despite all of the crowds and noise and confusion, being with so many people, all of whom are simply there to be a part of a religious community and pray, created an environment that allowed for intense meditation-all of the chaos sort of fades into white noise at a certain point. It was exhausting, but at the same time, relaxing.
Anyways, after a few hours of snatched sleep, we headed home at dawn, and I honestly have never in my life been so happy to see a cold bucket shower waiting for me. The rest of the day was spent in Ouakam waiting for friends, family, and neighbors to return at various times from their respective pilgrimages...the best part about all of this is that we eat reeeeally well, with fresh fruits and pastries to celebrate the holiday (beignets, or fried dough, being the highlight). And had an early night after a dinner of what teh students here have been referring to as "rice milk," a dish served either hot or cold consisting of milk/cream mixed with millet (or some sort of grain). It's kind of like yoghurt or oatmeal, just with a weird texture. It seems to be served every Sunday night (or every night that follows a day off of work), but we have yet to figure out the significance...I'll ask on Sunday.
Sorry for the lengthy post, I hope I didn't bore you all too much...I'll be sure to better keep up with writing so they don't need to be as long. Ba ci kanam
Friday, February 11, 2011
February 11
Today is our one-month anniversary since leaving the US-quite the milestone if you ask any of us still left standing. It is also a Friday which means that it is acceptable for everyone, even toubabs, to dress up in their finest traditional Senegalese gear and parade around like we actually belong here. In my outfit's maiden voyage, I keep getting comments from random Senegalese people saying that I look like Shree, the star of a popular Indian soap opera here. Which I'm cool with because at least being mistaken for being Indian isn't being recognized immediately as an American.
To celebrate, a few of us are going to the Institut Francais to see a movie (Ramata-it's about some middle aged woman in Dakar who turns cougar and starts dating a 25 year old. Needless to say, it was the only movie playing tonight) and have non-Senegalese food for dinner. And maybe even have some alcohol...as long as our uber religious families don't find out. And just an FYI, movies cost like 2 USD here. It's sick.
Beyond that, nothing too crazy is on the immediate agenda...I just wanted to let you all know that after today, I will likely not have any internet access for close to a week because, assuming I go to Tivaouane with my family on their pilgrimage for Gamou (Muhammed's birthday) I will be in transit for a while. However I made Tabara promise not to lose me there so we should be all good-and being rather identifiable as a toubab I can't imagine I'd be hard to find in the event that I somehow get seperated (which I won't, Mom, I promise to hold onto someone's hand at all times). Anyways I plan on taking lots of photos and can't wait to let you all know how it goes! Ba ci kanam
To celebrate, a few of us are going to the Institut Francais to see a movie (Ramata-it's about some middle aged woman in Dakar who turns cougar and starts dating a 25 year old. Needless to say, it was the only movie playing tonight) and have non-Senegalese food for dinner. And maybe even have some alcohol...as long as our uber religious families don't find out. And just an FYI, movies cost like 2 USD here. It's sick.
Beyond that, nothing too crazy is on the immediate agenda...I just wanted to let you all know that after today, I will likely not have any internet access for close to a week because, assuming I go to Tivaouane with my family on their pilgrimage for Gamou (Muhammed's birthday) I will be in transit for a while. However I made Tabara promise not to lose me there so we should be all good-and being rather identifiable as a toubab I can't imagine I'd be hard to find in the event that I somehow get seperated (which I won't, Mom, I promise to hold onto someone's hand at all times). Anyways I plan on taking lots of photos and can't wait to let you all know how it goes! Ba ci kanam
Thursday, February 10, 2011
February 10
So last night I had dinner with Andrew's family...we spent about a half hour trying to figure out how we were connected and finally landed on this: that his mother's cousin is related to my mother's cousin. Or something. Anyways, he and his wife invited over two other couples who work with them at the embassy here in Dakar. I brought along a friend, Keturah, from my program to keep the couples trend going.
When we got there, it was like we left the country. They live in a gorgeous three-story house in Mamelles, which is only a short distance from my home in Ouakam, but they could not be more different. Not only do they have running water and a generator to combat power outages, but they have a cook and a nanny/housekeeper, as well as some of the most tastefully decorated rooms I have ever seen. Both Andrew and his wife speak French, but neither of them speak any Wolof. The weird thing about it is that they seem to have no need; the only people that they seem to come into contact with are government officials and other Westerners. When I asked Andrew if he liked Dakar, he responded in the negative without any hesitation; "There's so much rubbish everywhere." Which is undoubtably true, but I just found it amusing that that was the first thing he said about life here. Although the more I think about it, the more that "rubbish everywhere" does seem to define the city of Dakar; it's noisy, dusty, chaotic, and constantly moving (not to mention the trash that people seem to just throw anywhere), but it seemed to me that in living such an isolated life there, he and his family are missing the beautiful parts of the city, too. In having a job where one constantly moves around, I absolutely understand feeling hesitant to get too attached to a country of which one isn't really a part-I just don't think that I could ever live in a country without at least trying.
It was wonderful hearing about the different couples' experiences-they all have lived such exciting and full lives. Plus it was nice to be in an English speaking household (and eat pasta and salad and lemon meringue pie!). Andrew and Sara were incredibly gracious hosts and were more welcoming than I would have imagined. But upon leaving, Keturah and I couldn't help but feel like we were actually going home, and not departing from it. I felt so relieved reentering my little home in Ouakam (and a police car even offered us a ride home because he said he didn't want us walking home alone), and I just couldn't help thinking how one could pass up the opportunity to really be a part of the life and culture here. Maybe it's a sign that I'm finally adjusting to my life here for the semester, or maybe it's just been so long since I've had a hot shower that I've forgotten exactly what that kind of thing feels like (one of the couples at dinner complained of the fact that their hot tub was currently leaky and it was taking a long time to get it fixed), but I am definitely growing attached to my family and life in Ouakam.
Anyways, one of the other students is currently waiting for me to go exploring in Fann, so I need to wrap up-but I will be back to post more in a bit. Ba beneen yoon
When we got there, it was like we left the country. They live in a gorgeous three-story house in Mamelles, which is only a short distance from my home in Ouakam, but they could not be more different. Not only do they have running water and a generator to combat power outages, but they have a cook and a nanny/housekeeper, as well as some of the most tastefully decorated rooms I have ever seen. Both Andrew and his wife speak French, but neither of them speak any Wolof. The weird thing about it is that they seem to have no need; the only people that they seem to come into contact with are government officials and other Westerners. When I asked Andrew if he liked Dakar, he responded in the negative without any hesitation; "There's so much rubbish everywhere." Which is undoubtably true, but I just found it amusing that that was the first thing he said about life here. Although the more I think about it, the more that "rubbish everywhere" does seem to define the city of Dakar; it's noisy, dusty, chaotic, and constantly moving (not to mention the trash that people seem to just throw anywhere), but it seemed to me that in living such an isolated life there, he and his family are missing the beautiful parts of the city, too. In having a job where one constantly moves around, I absolutely understand feeling hesitant to get too attached to a country of which one isn't really a part-I just don't think that I could ever live in a country without at least trying.
It was wonderful hearing about the different couples' experiences-they all have lived such exciting and full lives. Plus it was nice to be in an English speaking household (and eat pasta and salad and lemon meringue pie!). Andrew and Sara were incredibly gracious hosts and were more welcoming than I would have imagined. But upon leaving, Keturah and I couldn't help but feel like we were actually going home, and not departing from it. I felt so relieved reentering my little home in Ouakam (and a police car even offered us a ride home because he said he didn't want us walking home alone), and I just couldn't help thinking how one could pass up the opportunity to really be a part of the life and culture here. Maybe it's a sign that I'm finally adjusting to my life here for the semester, or maybe it's just been so long since I've had a hot shower that I've forgotten exactly what that kind of thing feels like (one of the couples at dinner complained of the fact that their hot tub was currently leaky and it was taking a long time to get it fixed), but I am definitely growing attached to my family and life in Ouakam.
Anyways, one of the other students is currently waiting for me to go exploring in Fann, so I need to wrap up-but I will be back to post more in a bit. Ba beneen yoon
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
February 8
Just a few quick things for today:
first things first, I saw the baby ans he's soooo cute. Poor Nyaneh wanted a girl (she has a husband and 2 sons already), and her labor was fairly difficult, but I think she's just happy that the baby is healthy...and seems to sleep more than the average newborn.
Also, I went to UCAD for my History of Islam class yesterday, and it actually happened! Well, the professor showed up over 30 minutes late, and the kid in front of me answered 3 seperate phone calls during the lecture, but still, the important thing is that I am now on track to graduate on time.
College classes here are bizarre; the little things that you take for granted in the US are just absent here. For example, there is no eraser for the blackboard, and the board itself has a giant whole right in the middle of it, so the professor has a difficult time writing notes. And, as I mentioned earlier, students have no qualms about answering cell phones in class, or getting up and leaving, or shouting things out to the professor (which can be all to frequent in a class about Islam, especially because where our professor wants to take a historical approach, the devout Muslims that compose most of the class insist upon taking a theological approach).
Beyond that, I don't have much else to tell you, but I'll be sure to post again later in the week.
first things first, I saw the baby ans he's soooo cute. Poor Nyaneh wanted a girl (she has a husband and 2 sons already), and her labor was fairly difficult, but I think she's just happy that the baby is healthy...and seems to sleep more than the average newborn.
Also, I went to UCAD for my History of Islam class yesterday, and it actually happened! Well, the professor showed up over 30 minutes late, and the kid in front of me answered 3 seperate phone calls during the lecture, but still, the important thing is that I am now on track to graduate on time.
College classes here are bizarre; the little things that you take for granted in the US are just absent here. For example, there is no eraser for the blackboard, and the board itself has a giant whole right in the middle of it, so the professor has a difficult time writing notes. And, as I mentioned earlier, students have no qualms about answering cell phones in class, or getting up and leaving, or shouting things out to the professor (which can be all to frequent in a class about Islam, especially because where our professor wants to take a historical approach, the devout Muslims that compose most of the class insist upon taking a theological approach).
Beyond that, I don't have much else to tell you, but I'll be sure to post again later in the week.
Monday, February 7, 2011
February 7
As of this morning I am an auntie! Isaakha's wife finally had her baby early this morning, a little boy-their third son. She was due February 1 and looked about ready to pop since I've been here so everyone is relieved. I get to see him this afternoon so I am very excited.
In comparison to that, everything else seems a little less exciting...we went to the Keur Moussa monastery this Saturday as a big group, and it was gorgeous-it's a ways out of the city, and was actually a bit of a shock; when we arrived, everything seemed eerily clm-there were no dust clouds, no kaar rapides threatening to mow you down, no construction work, and no men harassing us. And, there was more greenery in this one concentrated place than I think there is in the rest of Senegal combined. It was unbelievably calm and peaceful-they grow all of their own food there, so we were fortunate enough to sample some of their produce (the highlight being the pamplemousse, or grapefruit, products)-I brought some back for my host family and they were ecstatic-Mohammed even gave me a high five instead of the usual slap.
We attended mass there (my first one...well, my first one where I wasn't sitting in a back pew with a coloring book next to Maria) and it was anything but a traditional Catholic experience-while all of the hymns and chants were conducted in Latin and French, they were accompanied by traditional West African instruments, among them several types of drums, and a Kora, which is somewhat of a harp/guitar hybrid. It was definitely an interesting mix of Christianity and African culture-especially because within the ranks of the monks, a majority were Senegalese, and only the eldest few were the white French founders of Keur Moussa. Everywhere you go here, there are reminders of colonialism and the damage it has done to the country.
On our way back, we stopped at Lac Rose-a lake with such a high salinity that in direct sunlight, the water actually looks bright pink. Unfortunately, there was no direct sunlight on Saturday, so in my pictures, it just looks gross and brown. But do a google image search if you're curious. Because there is noooo way we are ever going back there, to call it an out of the way destination is the understatement of the year. We basically had to off-road it for an hour and a half from Keur Moussa to find it, and more than one of my fellow travelers succumbed to car sickness due to the conditions of the ride.
However, the surrounding sand dunes were a lot of fun-there were camels, and we got to see a nice view of the natural setting. If you are ever to go to Senegal, however, this is definitely not one of the spots I would recommend-too much work for too little payoff.
Anyways, Superbowl Sunday rolls around and there is nowhere to watch the game-first of all, because it's very late at night here, and second of all, because there is no power ever. But I think the birth of a child in our house trumps a football game for excitement so it's all good. I did laundry and other household errands with the girls yesterday (and sampled some delicious street food from a local vendor-think spicy french fries meet potato chips), and the fataaya woman told me that, as I was fast approaching spinsterhood, she would teach me how to cook if I visited her regularly, and then find me a Senegalese husband before I dry up and become completely undesirable. Thank goodness I have such kind and helpful people here, right in my very own backyard!
I've been spending a lot of time in Ouakam, getting to know the little roads and all of the people-I'm even befriending a number of the kids who live nearby. Everyone is incredibly friendly (and always curious) so it's easy. My family even invited me to join them on their 3 day religious pilgrimage in a week (I'm going to see if it's acceptable to miss class to do it...and if it's not awkward for a Jew to go on a Muslim religious pilgrimage). At any rate it was nice of them to invite me, and even if I don't go, that means I'll get to stay here to witness the naming ceremony for the new baby. It's a win-win!
Nothing else too exciting to relate, but I am supposed to have my actual, real-live first day of class at UCAD today, so keep your fingers crossed that this class is a thing that exists in reality and that I am enrolled in it! Hope you're all surviving the frozen tundra that is America, feel free to come visit sunny Africa at any time in the next 3 months-I'll be here.
Yendul ak jamm
In comparison to that, everything else seems a little less exciting...we went to the Keur Moussa monastery this Saturday as a big group, and it was gorgeous-it's a ways out of the city, and was actually a bit of a shock; when we arrived, everything seemed eerily clm-there were no dust clouds, no kaar rapides threatening to mow you down, no construction work, and no men harassing us. And, there was more greenery in this one concentrated place than I think there is in the rest of Senegal combined. It was unbelievably calm and peaceful-they grow all of their own food there, so we were fortunate enough to sample some of their produce (the highlight being the pamplemousse, or grapefruit, products)-I brought some back for my host family and they were ecstatic-Mohammed even gave me a high five instead of the usual slap.
We attended mass there (my first one...well, my first one where I wasn't sitting in a back pew with a coloring book next to Maria) and it was anything but a traditional Catholic experience-while all of the hymns and chants were conducted in Latin and French, they were accompanied by traditional West African instruments, among them several types of drums, and a Kora, which is somewhat of a harp/guitar hybrid. It was definitely an interesting mix of Christianity and African culture-especially because within the ranks of the monks, a majority were Senegalese, and only the eldest few were the white French founders of Keur Moussa. Everywhere you go here, there are reminders of colonialism and the damage it has done to the country.
On our way back, we stopped at Lac Rose-a lake with such a high salinity that in direct sunlight, the water actually looks bright pink. Unfortunately, there was no direct sunlight on Saturday, so in my pictures, it just looks gross and brown. But do a google image search if you're curious. Because there is noooo way we are ever going back there, to call it an out of the way destination is the understatement of the year. We basically had to off-road it for an hour and a half from Keur Moussa to find it, and more than one of my fellow travelers succumbed to car sickness due to the conditions of the ride.
However, the surrounding sand dunes were a lot of fun-there were camels, and we got to see a nice view of the natural setting. If you are ever to go to Senegal, however, this is definitely not one of the spots I would recommend-too much work for too little payoff.
Anyways, Superbowl Sunday rolls around and there is nowhere to watch the game-first of all, because it's very late at night here, and second of all, because there is no power ever. But I think the birth of a child in our house trumps a football game for excitement so it's all good. I did laundry and other household errands with the girls yesterday (and sampled some delicious street food from a local vendor-think spicy french fries meet potato chips), and the fataaya woman told me that, as I was fast approaching spinsterhood, she would teach me how to cook if I visited her regularly, and then find me a Senegalese husband before I dry up and become completely undesirable. Thank goodness I have such kind and helpful people here, right in my very own backyard!
I've been spending a lot of time in Ouakam, getting to know the little roads and all of the people-I'm even befriending a number of the kids who live nearby. Everyone is incredibly friendly (and always curious) so it's easy. My family even invited me to join them on their 3 day religious pilgrimage in a week (I'm going to see if it's acceptable to miss class to do it...and if it's not awkward for a Jew to go on a Muslim religious pilgrimage). At any rate it was nice of them to invite me, and even if I don't go, that means I'll get to stay here to witness the naming ceremony for the new baby. It's a win-win!
Nothing else too exciting to relate, but I am supposed to have my actual, real-live first day of class at UCAD today, so keep your fingers crossed that this class is a thing that exists in reality and that I am enrolled in it! Hope you're all surviving the frozen tundra that is America, feel free to come visit sunny Africa at any time in the next 3 months-I'll be here.
Yendul ak jamm
Thursday, February 3, 2011
February 3
I have no classes on Thursdays, and since my internship has yet to start (if it ever gets organized) I decided to have an impromptu adventure day with Jen, one of the Canadians studying at WARC. We walked downtown and made a stop at N'Ice Cream (obviously), followed by a leisurely stroll through Marche Sandaga, where we both did some gift shopping for you folks back home (get excited...the bargaining/harassment I went through was of epic proportions, I hope you all appreciate it). We then proceeded to get a bit lost (which, I've decided, id the only way to really find anything here since street names/general organization doesn't exist) and befriended a rando named Samba, who, when we started complaining about being hungry, dropped us off at this great little fast food restaurant that he recommended. After eating our fill, we met up with one of Jen's friends through her host family connections here (she is also a study abroad student) at the Palais Presidentiel, and we went to a french patisserie for coffee and dessert (#2). We wandered about the area for a bit, this being the 'nice' part of town, where all of the political and commercial establishments are located, before heading home. Despite there being no street names, I think that I'm getting a pretty good handle of where things are in relation to one another-my one lingering problem is my gross underestimations of how long it takes to walk places. Thank goodness I have my trusty boots, otherwise my feet would be toast.
Oh, and randomly on the way home, like several miles from where we last left him, we ran into Samba again! So of course he said it was fate and asked for our phone numbers...but he eventually settled for just giving us his. I guess if we're ever in the market for good food we now have a contact.
Class tomorrow then...field trip to the Keur Moussa Monastery and Rose Lake on Saturday. It'll definitely be nice to get away from the city for a day (and that means that I miss one of the laundry days so score for me). I'll be sure to take (and post) photos for you all to see.
Sending you all sunny vibes from Africa!
Oh, and randomly on the way home, like several miles from where we last left him, we ran into Samba again! So of course he said it was fate and asked for our phone numbers...but he eventually settled for just giving us his. I guess if we're ever in the market for good food we now have a contact.
Class tomorrow then...field trip to the Keur Moussa Monastery and Rose Lake on Saturday. It'll definitely be nice to get away from the city for a day (and that means that I miss one of the laundry days so score for me). I'll be sure to take (and post) photos for you all to see.
Sending you all sunny vibes from Africa!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
February 2
My second attempt to take a UCAD class was foiled on Monday-it seems that the university repeatedly and without apology continues to print and distribute schedules filled with classes that do not actually exist. Fortunately, after a bit of scrambling, I found a real one (I know it's real because another student here has been there, and because I emailed the professor, who shockingly responded at all, in the affirmative) so now I have a set schedule, and hopefully the Amherst registrar will now stop sending me threatening emails about how I need to submit a schedule. Sorry I'm not sorry that I'm just living a laid-back, fashionably late Dakar lifestyle these days.
Things are sdefinitely settling into a more regular routine, so I don't have a ton of new things to report...though in the past 3 days, I have been followed at some point by the following things:
a feral dog who decided tojoin me on my morning run
a socially awkward Senegalese student who creeps on the foreign students
2 taxis
a car rapide
a pickup truck full of teenaged boys making kissy noises
and a group of small children shouting "toubab" and demanding that I buy them all juice boxes from a street vendor. (Not: juice boxes are not, in fact, boxes. Rather, I am pretty sure that the containers are the same things that hospitals use as blood bags that hook up to IVs. Because that's normal here.)
Also a man named Mustafah stopped me in the road and tried to give me Wolof etiquette lessons amidst a torrent of bulldozers and other cinstruction work. People (and animals, apparently) just have a verrry different conception of what personal space is here. Actually, there doesn't seem to be any conception of it at all.
But, while it does get overwhelming, I am definitely acclimating...I'm actually finding that, instead of wanting to retreat and have alone time, I am craving other people's company more and more. It's nice to be able to be with people all of the time with no expectations other than proximity.
Also, I discovered that the way to Muhammed's heart (my 4 year old brother) is through his stomach...as many 4 year old boys are apt to do, he would perform such delightful little acts of affection such as coming into my room to dump his trash (often chewed up orange pieces), taking my soccer ball and punting it full force at my mirror, or starting neighborhood-wide chants of "toubabi." Luckily he's so tiny that I can usually just pick him up and throw him somewhere (in the words of my host mother, "il faut le frapper," "It's a necessity that you smack him."). However, thanks to my genius mother who packed Swedish fish in my suitcase, we are now friends and he likes to sit, docile as can be, and play catch with me in my room. So yay for domestic tranquility.
This weekend we have a fieldtrip to...somewhere. Nobody really seems to be sure, and we are repeatedly told that we will be receiving detailed emails but alas. I figure I'll just show up at WARC along with the other students on the day of and hopefully we'll all get taken to the same place.
I feel like when I come back home I will be abslutely useless in terms of functioning in any remotely efficient setting. I guess we'll see. But as for right now, I'm thoroughly enjoying the low stress levels so I'm not goign to worry about the long term affects for now. Off to do some homework but I will write again soon.
Ba ci kanam
Things are sdefinitely settling into a more regular routine, so I don't have a ton of new things to report...though in the past 3 days, I have been followed at some point by the following things:
a feral dog who decided tojoin me on my morning run
a socially awkward Senegalese student who creeps on the foreign students
2 taxis
a car rapide
a pickup truck full of teenaged boys making kissy noises
and a group of small children shouting "toubab" and demanding that I buy them all juice boxes from a street vendor. (Not: juice boxes are not, in fact, boxes. Rather, I am pretty sure that the containers are the same things that hospitals use as blood bags that hook up to IVs. Because that's normal here.)
Also a man named Mustafah stopped me in the road and tried to give me Wolof etiquette lessons amidst a torrent of bulldozers and other cinstruction work. People (and animals, apparently) just have a verrry different conception of what personal space is here. Actually, there doesn't seem to be any conception of it at all.
But, while it does get overwhelming, I am definitely acclimating...I'm actually finding that, instead of wanting to retreat and have alone time, I am craving other people's company more and more. It's nice to be able to be with people all of the time with no expectations other than proximity.
Also, I discovered that the way to Muhammed's heart (my 4 year old brother) is through his stomach...as many 4 year old boys are apt to do, he would perform such delightful little acts of affection such as coming into my room to dump his trash (often chewed up orange pieces), taking my soccer ball and punting it full force at my mirror, or starting neighborhood-wide chants of "toubabi." Luckily he's so tiny that I can usually just pick him up and throw him somewhere (in the words of my host mother, "il faut le frapper," "It's a necessity that you smack him."). However, thanks to my genius mother who packed Swedish fish in my suitcase, we are now friends and he likes to sit, docile as can be, and play catch with me in my room. So yay for domestic tranquility.
This weekend we have a fieldtrip to...somewhere. Nobody really seems to be sure, and we are repeatedly told that we will be receiving detailed emails but alas. I figure I'll just show up at WARC along with the other students on the day of and hopefully we'll all get taken to the same place.
I feel like when I come back home I will be abslutely useless in terms of functioning in any remotely efficient setting. I guess we'll see. But as for right now, I'm thoroughly enjoying the low stress levels so I'm not goign to worry about the long term affects for now. Off to do some homework but I will write again soon.
Ba ci kanam
Monday, January 31, 2011
January 31
Greetings from the WARC-
So we actually found our way to the Youssoou N'Dour concert without getting lost (too badly)...it was hosted by the Institut Francais, which is basically thios toubab safe haven in the middle of downtown Dakar. I legitimately felt like I have never seen so many white people crammed into one place at one time. Anyways, the show was great-especially sicne with N'Dour, as is typical of most African music, you get far more than you pay for. He had about 14 other dancers, singers, and musicians backing him up at all times, which really added some depth to the performance, not to mention a sensory overload for all people in attandance. Naturally, our group of students felt the need to dance afterwards, so we took the opportunity to explore the nightlife of Dakar. Sketchiest part of the evening: when we went to leave, we hailed a taxi and after settling on a price and driving no more than two blocks, our cab was stopped in the middle of the street by two rather unofficial looking men asking for our driver's license and registration. Rather than produce the necessary documents, our driver opens up a secret compartment behind the steerign wheel and procures a wad of cash, which he attempts to hand to the men. Naturally at this point, the four of us in the cab decide to make a run for it and head back to the club we had just left. Good thing we're so aware of our surroundings and able to handle those situations...
We eventually did make it home, and even got to practice Wolof with our cab driver, repeating the phrase "begg uma joxe sama numero" (I don't want to give you my phone number) for nearly the entire ride.
Saturday and Sunday were some crucial family bonding days for me-I have started doing the laundry (by hand) with my host sisters Aminata and Tabara, which takes them each about 6 hours to complete on each day. My arms and back are killing my, but I feel like this is the one way that I can actually contribute to the household and feel like less of a free-loading squatter.
And, the most important part of my weekend; I have officially graduated from "toubab" to "blonde!" After much bilingual confusion (apparently in Wolof, blonde does not refer to hair color, but rather an intermediate skin color between white and black), I am able to embrace my new title...I'm not sure if it's because I'm starting to tan or if they like me more now, but either way I'm happy to have moved beyond toubab status, no matter how subtly.
In further efforts to make me a "real senegalese women," my family has decided that my clothing is inadequate and that I need traditional clothing made. Aminata and I went to the market on Saturday (which was completely overwhelming, with cars, feral animals, and people all pushing against one another in an attempt to cross the same single thoroughfare) and picked out some fabric, and today we will be visiting a tailor to make a dress (fabric costs about 5-10 dollars, andtailoring should cost no more than 5, apparently). It's been really nice having host sisters to guide me with this sort of thing, because alone, I am completely lost.
Not too much else new for now...I'm off to class (with our Wolof teacher, who, according to his stories, was fired on several occasions from the Peace Corps as a teacher for smoking pot with the members) but I will write again soon. Ba ci kanam
So we actually found our way to the Youssoou N'Dour concert without getting lost (too badly)...it was hosted by the Institut Francais, which is basically thios toubab safe haven in the middle of downtown Dakar. I legitimately felt like I have never seen so many white people crammed into one place at one time. Anyways, the show was great-especially sicne with N'Dour, as is typical of most African music, you get far more than you pay for. He had about 14 other dancers, singers, and musicians backing him up at all times, which really added some depth to the performance, not to mention a sensory overload for all people in attandance. Naturally, our group of students felt the need to dance afterwards, so we took the opportunity to explore the nightlife of Dakar. Sketchiest part of the evening: when we went to leave, we hailed a taxi and after settling on a price and driving no more than two blocks, our cab was stopped in the middle of the street by two rather unofficial looking men asking for our driver's license and registration. Rather than produce the necessary documents, our driver opens up a secret compartment behind the steerign wheel and procures a wad of cash, which he attempts to hand to the men. Naturally at this point, the four of us in the cab decide to make a run for it and head back to the club we had just left. Good thing we're so aware of our surroundings and able to handle those situations...
We eventually did make it home, and even got to practice Wolof with our cab driver, repeating the phrase "begg uma joxe sama numero" (I don't want to give you my phone number) for nearly the entire ride.
Saturday and Sunday were some crucial family bonding days for me-I have started doing the laundry (by hand) with my host sisters Aminata and Tabara, which takes them each about 6 hours to complete on each day. My arms and back are killing my, but I feel like this is the one way that I can actually contribute to the household and feel like less of a free-loading squatter.
And, the most important part of my weekend; I have officially graduated from "toubab" to "blonde!" After much bilingual confusion (apparently in Wolof, blonde does not refer to hair color, but rather an intermediate skin color between white and black), I am able to embrace my new title...I'm not sure if it's because I'm starting to tan or if they like me more now, but either way I'm happy to have moved beyond toubab status, no matter how subtly.
In further efforts to make me a "real senegalese women," my family has decided that my clothing is inadequate and that I need traditional clothing made. Aminata and I went to the market on Saturday (which was completely overwhelming, with cars, feral animals, and people all pushing against one another in an attempt to cross the same single thoroughfare) and picked out some fabric, and today we will be visiting a tailor to make a dress (fabric costs about 5-10 dollars, andtailoring should cost no more than 5, apparently). It's been really nice having host sisters to guide me with this sort of thing, because alone, I am completely lost.
Not too much else new for now...I'm off to class (with our Wolof teacher, who, according to his stories, was fired on several occasions from the Peace Corps as a teacher for smoking pot with the members) but I will write again soon. Ba ci kanam
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