My immersion has officially begun in earnest-I’ve moved in with my host family. The Diops consist of my host mother (Ami, though I am to call her Maman because, as she said, I am to be her daughter for the next 4 months), and all of the family members that I mentioned earlier. The soccer ball brought as a gift was a great move, as it turns out the kids, especially my younger brother, Mohammed, all love to play and I can see that it will be a way for me to reach out to tem, despite our limited French and my complete ignorance of Wolof.
Within the first few hours of my arrival, there was a power outage (“bienvenue a Senegal,” as one of my aunts said) but unlike in the United States, where a blackout seems to stop all functioning of society, here things just carried on with the help of a few flashlights. I was shocked upon my arrival to discover that, despite sharing a home with 15 other individuals, I was given my own room. “Fais comme tu fais a la maison,” Maman told me. Make yourself at home, do everything that you would at your house. Maman’s broter, Isaacha, who works for the Senegalese department of education as an overseer of high schools, has really taken the initiative in terms of introducing me to the various family members and explaining things to me. However, this is a relative responsibility; while every member of the family has been very kind and friendly, I can tell that they expect me to simply know a lot of things that I don’t. For example, toilet paper is not used here-an alternative cleansing method exists instead. Meal times seem very consistent, but someone has yet to tell me when those consistet times happen to be. It’s difficult to contribute to the household conversations, as most occur in Wolof, but those that do occur in French are often to quick for em to understand. They are certainly making an effort to include me and to slow down for my benefit, but I can tell that a lot of my learning is going to come from observation and my own adjustments, rather than theirs, which is actually probably more beneficial for me in the long run.
The youngest children, who do not yet speak any French, refer to me as “toubab;” a somewhat derogatory slang for a white person (think the Wolof equivalent of the word “gringo”). I don’t mind, since my name is certainly difficult for them to pronounce, and hopefully as I learn a bit of Wolof we will be able to communicate more. Mostly, they are just curious about me. With the older girls, I am hoping that I can form a more legitimate relationship so that they can help me to adjust to the youth culture of Senegal.
Before our family placements, we also went on a tour of the city, visiting old military bases, monuments, and the President’s place of residence. It turns out that we had been staying in a rather poorer part of town, Yoff, where displaced Senegalese were forced to make their homes with the presence of the colonial French. I am currently staying in Ouakam, a much nicer suburb, and the house in which I am staying really is very comfortable and nice.
One major adjustment that I am finding myself forced to make is the difference in time; schedules don’t really exist, and if they do, they are more often than not disregarded. Nobody, neither program leaders nor my host family, really informs us of any plan of action, but somehow, everything that we need to accomplish seems to get done. I’m attempting to curb the neuroticism, or at least limit it to my classes and keep it out of my daily life.
Today we took our placement exams at WARC and we will be having our first Wolof class in the afternoon. I can access the internet pretty regularly here so hopefully it will be easier to stay in touch now.
I`ll write again soon. Bisous
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