Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Words in Snapshots
Lately I have not known which words to share, spread, or contemplate. My mind, well our minds I am sure, are constantly processing and reflecting. There is plenty I would like to say, I simply have a difficult time choosing the items to put into this little page of mine. Given this difficulty, I chose an outlet other than words. Here is a small selection from the many pictures I took in Senegal. I thought perhaps a few photos containing snapshots from my perspectives might say enough this time. To see them larger just click on them. I hope you enjoy, cheers!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Les Petits Cochons... oops, Les Petits Moutons
I thought I would share what I deem an amusing story:
I play with little kids' toes. I think children's feet are adorable and well, children's feet are less gross than adult feet... I think of them as much smaller, softer, and having less time to get nasty foot diseases. Anyways, tangent aside, in Dakar when I was at my house playing with my little cousins or when I was at the Pouponniere (orphanage for babies newborn to 2years old) or when I was at the SOS Village des Enfants (orphanage for children 2years and up), I played with the children's precious little feet. Often times I would play the "Little Pigs" rhyming game where you deem each toe a pig and tell a story until you reach the pinky-toe where you jumped into tickling time. I had always thought I was spiffy for implementing a fun activity I had enjoyed as a child, you know, sharing a little of my culture while practicing my French skills. However, I quickly, and awkwardly I might add, learned how to appropriately alter the rhyme to be more culturally acceptable. What exactly does that mean? Well, I was in a country where over 90% of the population is Muslim, which essentially means that no one eats pork and pigs tend to be thought of as... well... nasty creatures.
One evening I was with my little cousins, Hadijou (age 5) and Fatima (age 3), and my little sister Marianne (age 9) and I did the rhyming game with Hadijou. Fatima loved what I had just done and begged me to play the game with her next while Hadijou still sat in giggles. When I looked over at Marianne, it was a completely different story. Marianne looked at me as if I were completely off my rocker, as if I had said something really nasty. I asked her why she looked at me that way. She didn't tell me, she simply shrugged her shoulders and giggled at me. I asked her again. She continued to giggle. I asked her a third time and well... she told me that pigs were gross, that she had never and would never eat pork, and that her cousin ate pork sometimes but only because she was Christian. Nevertheless, my little sister thought it was nasty to play a game where your toes became pigs. I rougi (blushed)... I cracked up... and I decided from that moment on I needed to slightly alter my methods playing with childrens' feet.
From that moment on, I changed the "Little Pigs" rhyme to the "Little Sheep" rhyme - I thought it was ingenious considering sheep play a significant role in Senegalese family life and that sheep meat is a favorite in Senegal. Thus, "Les Petits Cochons" became "Les Petits Moutons."
I play with little kids' toes. I think children's feet are adorable and well, children's feet are less gross than adult feet... I think of them as much smaller, softer, and having less time to get nasty foot diseases. Anyways, tangent aside, in Dakar when I was at my house playing with my little cousins or when I was at the Pouponniere (orphanage for babies newborn to 2years old) or when I was at the SOS Village des Enfants (orphanage for children 2years and up), I played with the children's precious little feet. Often times I would play the "Little Pigs" rhyming game where you deem each toe a pig and tell a story until you reach the pinky-toe where you jumped into tickling time. I had always thought I was spiffy for implementing a fun activity I had enjoyed as a child, you know, sharing a little of my culture while practicing my French skills. However, I quickly, and awkwardly I might add, learned how to appropriately alter the rhyme to be more culturally acceptable. What exactly does that mean? Well, I was in a country where over 90% of the population is Muslim, which essentially means that no one eats pork and pigs tend to be thought of as... well... nasty creatures.
One evening I was with my little cousins, Hadijou (age 5) and Fatima (age 3), and my little sister Marianne (age 9) and I did the rhyming game with Hadijou. Fatima loved what I had just done and begged me to play the game with her next while Hadijou still sat in giggles. When I looked over at Marianne, it was a completely different story. Marianne looked at me as if I were completely off my rocker, as if I had said something really nasty. I asked her why she looked at me that way. She didn't tell me, she simply shrugged her shoulders and giggled at me. I asked her again. She continued to giggle. I asked her a third time and well... she told me that pigs were gross, that she had never and would never eat pork, and that her cousin ate pork sometimes but only because she was Christian. Nevertheless, my little sister thought it was nasty to play a game where your toes became pigs. I rougi (blushed)... I cracked up... and I decided from that moment on I needed to slightly alter my methods playing with childrens' feet.
From that moment on, I changed the "Little Pigs" rhyme to the "Little Sheep" rhyme - I thought it was ingenious considering sheep play a significant role in Senegalese family life and that sheep meat is a favorite in Senegal. Thus, "Les Petits Cochons" became "Les Petits Moutons."
Thursday, March 3, 2011
A good spoon can relieve a heavy heart.
I miss Senegalese peanuts; I miss eating them boiled with my Senegalese family, I miss cracking hundreds of them to be used for cooking in traditional lunch dishes, I miss buying roasted ones from the lady on the street corner across from my school who always talked to me in Wolof, and I miss eating raw peanuts while passing the time away drinking tea and playing cards with loved ones. Basically, I crave Senegalese peanuts everyday. Yes, I realize it is silly to allow myself to feel strongly upset at the lack of peanuts in my life considering I obviously cannot have them at this point in time and obviously I do not need them to survive. However, I think that the environment of me peanut eating is a large factor to the emptiness I sometimes experience. Thus, in attempt to accept this at times dreadful situation I have created an alternative routine. I go over to Hilda and Katie's apartment to subdue my craving. I walk through the door saying hello as I head straight to the silverware draw to grab a spoon. I proceed to walk over to the food shelf where I grab the tub of mixed nuts Hilda faithfully creates thanks to the bountifulness of Roth's bulk section. I then walk over to the counter where I drop my belongings on the floor next to my feet and then lean against that black speckled counter as I begin to munch away on spoonfuls of the salty goodness of a homemade nut and berry mix while I inquire about the lovely ladies' days.
I believe it is important to counter negative aspects in life with positive aspects. Though there may not be a positive counter part or an equivalent solution to the heavy problems, stresses, sadnesses or whatever it is plaguing our hearts, when we cannot simply overlook these items in a moments effort something needs to be done. In the context of our own lives, our own grand, little pieces in this vast world, providing ourselves as well as others with positive alternatives to sadness and heaviness can provide a cheerier day. I say this because as I continue to struggle my way through re-orienting into America, I have found that the little moments I cherish are what keep me dancing through the winding transitions of life whether or not these moments be little brother's 2nd birthday parties, skype dates, Mascarade parties, late night walks, reading old letters, exploring music, or... eating mixed nuts and berries with a spoon.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Thanksgiving Picnic and a Christmas Tree Surprise
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Thanksgiving was slightly interesting this year. Three of us Linfield Students had planned to have a small dinner among ourselves followed by an Apple Crisp feast with a few of our Senegalese friends. We had asked one guard at the center whether or not we were allowed to have a few friends over in one of the small lounge areas of one of our school buildings to share our American dessert because our program advisor had encouraged us to share a piece of our holiday for cultural exchange. The afternoon guard gave us permission so we set off to prepare for our mini-feast. We went to a grocery store, a few boutiques, and a fruit stand to buy all of our food with the money our school provided us for a "Thanksgiving program". We had begun to prepare our salad, the Apple Crisp and our potatoes (I would simply like to say that they were the most delectable garlic-mashed potatoes I have ever eaten) when the evening guard told us we needed to speak with Garry, the director of ACI. As we headed up the stairs to his office we were a little concerned... unfortunately, rightfully so.
The director told us that even though he personally did not have a problem with us bringing in non-ACI student Senegalese friends, the guards did because they were nervous of people sizing up the buildings for future theft plans and they felt less capable of maintaining security of the buildings when there are other people there. Our director said that he needed to respect the word of the guards because even though he ultimately he could make the decision to allow people in the center, in general it is difficult for him to go against the word of the guards who are protecting the property and ultimately responsible for the belongings of the center while he or other employees are not there... thus, we were told at 6pm on Thanksgiving that we could not have our guests inside of the building to share our homemade apple crisp that we had already started preparing! We thought about it for a few minutes until we came to the conclusion, "C'est pas grave... we can have a late-night picnic!"
We called our friends and asked one of them to bring a table cloth; it was an easy task because within Senegalese culture it is a social norm to eat on the ground so there are always table clothes, fabrics, and blankets around the houses for picnic-like purposes. Our friends were aware that there was a slight change in the program but were still to come to our school around 9pm. Why did we not change the location to one of our houses? It was not that easy. In Senegal EVERYTHING is shared. If we would have moved our little holiday dessert night to one of our houses, not only would we have had to cart two trays of steaming Apple Crisp and a small carton of vanilla ice cream through a huge quartier, but we would have had to feed at least 15people and the school did not give us a budget large enough to provide for 15people. Thus, we did not want to be rude and take our dessert to one of our houses and not share but it was impossible for us to provide food for one of our families and our friends and us. The situation was simply more feasible at our school... and we only had to make one slight change.
By the time all of our friends arrived the first batch of Apple Crisp was finished and the second was ready to be put into the oven. As our friends arrived we met them in front of the second building where we had been cooking and eating and we all respectfully greeted the guards who were sitting to the side of the door engaging in discussion and smoking cigarettes. After we greeted them we walked over to the first building and placed the table cloth on the cement walkway/sidewalk near the door to the gate of first school building. The guards looked over at us in disbelief; I think it was the first time they had even seen students react to a situation as we did. Anyways, we placed the table cloth on the ground with the usual cloth napkin holding the forks, a few water bottles, and then a small tub of vanilla ice cream. Everyone sat down while I went to fetch the Apple Crisp. As I approached the door of the second building I explained that I was grabbing the dessert but that there was more cooking so I would be in and out checking on it. They guards said alright and simply stared at me processing what I had said. I grabbed the first batch and stuck the second batch in the tiny oven and left. I could feel the guards staring at me and after I placed the Apple Crisp in the middle of our picnic circle on the ground I glanced over at the guards to find them staring in disbelief. They though we were crazy. Indeed, we were a little out of place... three American women and three Senegalese men sitting on a public sidewalk in front of a school at 9:30 at night. The Apple Crisp was absolutely delicious! Fantastic! A secretary man came to the school that night and when he saw us as he began to enter into the first building he was startled, replied to our greetings with a brittle "bon soir" and then angrily marched over to the guards sitting about 50 feet away from us. We could see him heatedly discussing the situation and see the guards chuckle; with their hand motions you could tell were explaining that we were sitting just outside of the building because we were not allowed to bring our friends inside of the building. The man walked back, made stiff smile at us, and then entered the gate. I noticed one of the guards following him and I wanted a picture of our Thanksgiving gathering so I stood up and asked him to take a picture of us. He was a little startled but then grinned at me as he said it was not a problem. The rest of the night went smoothly... the guards were happy with how we cleaned up our cooking mess, we had a picture of the festivities, and the six of us had successfully eaten two large platters of Apple Crisp between laughter, conversation, people watching, passing traffic, and a power-outage! Oh, and the secretary man was back to his normal self the following day so no harm done.
Though it may sound silly, it felt good to rebel a bit... well, I am not sure what we did can be considered as rebelling but honestly we were hoping to make a point. In Senegal, the country of "teranga" (hospitality), if the Senegalese are not allowed into a Cultural Learning Center to celebrate the holidays with attending students, then what gives us foreigners, or students, the right to celebrate the holidays there? Besides, sharing is caring here and caring is community... we were simply setting an example of teranga... we were simply showing that we understand the meaning of community and cultural exchange... if they eat outside, we eat outside... if the only way for them to share our food is to eat outside, the we eat outside :)
Our Thanksgiving Apple Crisp feast... we ate two of those platters!
***
"I know he is real. My mom told me that last year when she was leaving the house for work at 4am, she looked up into the sky as she walked out of the front gate and she saw Papa Noel... he is real, I know." - little sister Marianne
The Christmas holiday was a whirlwind! At first I was a little lonely because due to unexpected circumstances I ended up being slightly alone... at first I thought, "holy moley, I am in Dakar, Senegal, Africa without my family, my closest friends, and my closest friend who was studying here but returned to America. Not easily admitted, it was a slightly emotional Christmas Eve and even more so because I skyped with my baby brother who was so damn cute! He made my eyes fill up with tears instantly - the singing, giggling, attempts to talk which really sounded like gibberish, and kisses through the screen tore my heart open. After skyping Christmas Eve evening I went home to find that my family was having a special dinner. I washed up, played cards and eye-spy games with my little sister and then enjoyed dinner. We had a type of bird (the only type of meat I can stomach lately... it was sort of like chicken but less veiny) with homemade french fries, the most delicious sauteed onions with spices, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and bread. The meal was followed by fruit AND juice! It was a blast; we all chatted, made jokes, and laughed at my host father who was completely unaware. I was sitting there eating my orange when I heard giggles. I looked up to see two of my brothers trying to hold back their giggles through their grins as they looked down to the ground in attempts to hide their adorable faces. I looked up at the double doors to the salon and was smacked in the face by a piercing image I will never forget: My host father was stepping down from the entrance... shirt pulled up to his chest uncovering his belly that honestly looked like it contained sextuplets! His eyes were squinted, he breathed heavily, he leaned back as he swaggered in his walk, one of his hands was on his back, the other hand was basically trying to support his hanging belly, and he was mumbling about how full and exhausted he felt. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing which only perpetuated my brothers laughter and invited my little sister and other brother to the scene. It took about 5min for us all to calm down. Seriously, it was priceless. After dinner I played cards with my siblings for an hour, went to part of a Christian church service with another student here to see what it was like, saw my favorite Senegalese brother (he is really the cousin of a friend but he is has a place in my heart as a brother) and then I opened my favorite Christmas card of all time. I was exhausted.
On Christmas morning I woke up, ate breakfast which was extra satisfying because along with my bread&butter and tea my father gave me a piece of sweet cantaloupe. After breakfast I dressed myself for the day, preparing myself to embark on a Christmas adventure with my little sister Marianne and the domestique, Khadi (the house cook/cleaner girl who is either 15 or 18, I can't figure it out). Basically anyone who wanted to go in our family was invited to my Christian cousin and aunt's house for a Christmas feast/party. It ended up only being us three girls. We took two buses which took about 1hour 30min to get there. I talked with a few little kids and then with a young man who is studying to be a veterinarian, who thinks Senegal is full of problems, and who wants to live in the United Sates.As we descended from the last buss we stepped into sand and dirt where we trekked down a long road under construction for about ten minutes. Though normal for me, I figured I would mention that during the ten minute trek to the house most people stared at me and talked about me.
When we arrived at the house I was shocked. Although it is definitely still in construction, I found it beautiful... the potential for that house in amazing. The stairs and walls were not yet finished and so raw brick and cinder blocks were showing and there was white powder, dust, and cement in various places but the layout of the house was neat and very open. Many houses in Senegal have open stairwells that lead outside so when it rains the house is wet with water. The material of the houses, brick and then various tiles, allow for sweeping the water into drains, sheep sacrifices, and easy daily cleaning methods. There were many bedrooms and then a courtyard near stairs that lead to an upstairs with more rooms and more balcony gathering areas. The kitchen and a cooking space with a dirt floor are downstairs . There was also a salon/living room with a Christmas tree and a sign that said Joyeux Noel (well the joyeux part fell down but it had been there at one point in time). Walking into the door we greeted all the women cooking and my cousin Dib (Felicity is her real name but Dieb is what most everyone calls her; while my host mother was on the pilgrimage to Mecca she was the cousin that stayed at my house for over a month to cook, clean, keep us company, and help run the house. She is 25 I believe... strong, beautiful, very Christian, very Segegalese, and wonderful... she has a boyfriend who is nice and has been at most of our huge family parties... I never see them show affection but I know he loves her when he is there around her, I can see it, and she tells me she loves him when we are alone) wow, I talked to long about that, anyways, she was super excited to see me and the other girls. She kept telling met that she was feeling nostalgic each time she looked at me and kept saying, "Laaaaaaacey! Ca va?!" It was great. My emptiness of family was filled by my Senegalese family and I spent the day cooking and laughing with a bunch of strong Senegalese woman.
The feast was absolutely huge; we fed at least 75people but I am pretty sure it was more. Once again, I ate enough for at least 6people. It is impossible to share every detail but after we lunch we cleaned up while drinking juices. I left with my little sister (Khadi went to her home for the holiday because she is Christain and wanted to be with her family for Christmas). I got us through the crazy bus system and home to our family in about an hour or so. I carted a dish of our Christmas feast for the family the whole way... I felt very Senegalese... taking, or even knowing how to take public transportation, responsible for a younger sibling, and bring home dinner to the family.
We arrived home, I quickly caught up with my mom and passed on the greetings from her mother and sisters etc. and then I sped off to the cyber cafe to chat with my American family. I skyped with Melissa and Michael in Hawaii (sister & brother in law), my dad and Eva in Grants Pass, Katie (wonderful friend) for 2min in Dayton, and then my mom, Mike, Gma, Gpa, and Michael Emmitt in Redding. I was brain-dead. It was so much talking and explaining I was exhausted. It was an exciting time. After talking with many of my loved ones I went home for dinner with my family - we had the left-overs from the day... it was sort of neat for me because I knew that I had helped cook it and my mother and father loved it so the fact that we all thought it was delicious made me feel as if I contributed a little to our Christmas dinner.
For dessert we had a frozen cake thing, actual cake with frosting frozen, don't know, some Senegalese style cake. After that I finished the night by giving my family their gifts! THEY LOVED IT! My mom and sister sent me a package with gifts we had decided would be nice for the family. The kids liked the cards, coloring books, slinky, sudoku, and mp3 player as well a the chocolate and my mother... well... when she saw the framed photo of her in her beautiful boubou the night she left for her pilgrimage in Mecca she started humming, singing, yelling, turning around in circles, and dancing. She hugged the photo and then hugged me and did the exchange of kisses on the cheeks. She LOVED it. The framed picture of her and the framed picture of her with her kids and husband are now propped, hanging from the headboard of my mom's bed. I believe Christmas night was one the times I have seen her most happy. It was incredible. She is lovely.
My friend Laila visiting from the Peace Corps in Morocco and Me in front of the Christmas Tree We came home from a walk and there was a Christmas Tree! Surprise!
Papa Noel! He plays the tune of Jingle Bells - sometimes Marianne would play it for at least 10minutes at a time... I thought I was going to go crazy but I think her jolly, frolicking dancing kept me upbeat each time :)
Little Sister Marianne and Me in front of our Christmas tree.
Me with three of my cousins I was cooking with.
That is only a portion of the bird we ate!
Two out of five or six platters of homemade french-fries!
The Senegalese are all about the SAUCE - I could take a bath in this pot. We cooked the bird first, then we used the oil for the onions and spices which was joined with peas and a bit of corn and then the bird was thrown in there before it was served... I ate enough for at least 4 people.
Thanksgiving was slightly interesting this year. Three of us Linfield Students had planned to have a small dinner among ourselves followed by an Apple Crisp feast with a few of our Senegalese friends. We had asked one guard at the center whether or not we were allowed to have a few friends over in one of the small lounge areas of one of our school buildings to share our American dessert because our program advisor had encouraged us to share a piece of our holiday for cultural exchange. The afternoon guard gave us permission so we set off to prepare for our mini-feast. We went to a grocery store, a few boutiques, and a fruit stand to buy all of our food with the money our school provided us for a "Thanksgiving program". We had begun to prepare our salad, the Apple Crisp and our potatoes (I would simply like to say that they were the most delectable garlic-mashed potatoes I have ever eaten) when the evening guard told us we needed to speak with Garry, the director of ACI. As we headed up the stairs to his office we were a little concerned... unfortunately, rightfully so.
The director told us that even though he personally did not have a problem with us bringing in non-ACI student Senegalese friends, the guards did because they were nervous of people sizing up the buildings for future theft plans and they felt less capable of maintaining security of the buildings when there are other people there. Our director said that he needed to respect the word of the guards because even though he ultimately he could make the decision to allow people in the center, in general it is difficult for him to go against the word of the guards who are protecting the property and ultimately responsible for the belongings of the center while he or other employees are not there... thus, we were told at 6pm on Thanksgiving that we could not have our guests inside of the building to share our homemade apple crisp that we had already started preparing! We thought about it for a few minutes until we came to the conclusion, "C'est pas grave... we can have a late-night picnic!"
We called our friends and asked one of them to bring a table cloth; it was an easy task because within Senegalese culture it is a social norm to eat on the ground so there are always table clothes, fabrics, and blankets around the houses for picnic-like purposes. Our friends were aware that there was a slight change in the program but were still to come to our school around 9pm. Why did we not change the location to one of our houses? It was not that easy. In Senegal EVERYTHING is shared. If we would have moved our little holiday dessert night to one of our houses, not only would we have had to cart two trays of steaming Apple Crisp and a small carton of vanilla ice cream through a huge quartier, but we would have had to feed at least 15people and the school did not give us a budget large enough to provide for 15people. Thus, we did not want to be rude and take our dessert to one of our houses and not share but it was impossible for us to provide food for one of our families and our friends and us. The situation was simply more feasible at our school... and we only had to make one slight change.
By the time all of our friends arrived the first batch of Apple Crisp was finished and the second was ready to be put into the oven. As our friends arrived we met them in front of the second building where we had been cooking and eating and we all respectfully greeted the guards who were sitting to the side of the door engaging in discussion and smoking cigarettes. After we greeted them we walked over to the first building and placed the table cloth on the cement walkway/sidewalk near the door to the gate of first school building. The guards looked over at us in disbelief; I think it was the first time they had even seen students react to a situation as we did. Anyways, we placed the table cloth on the ground with the usual cloth napkin holding the forks, a few water bottles, and then a small tub of vanilla ice cream. Everyone sat down while I went to fetch the Apple Crisp. As I approached the door of the second building I explained that I was grabbing the dessert but that there was more cooking so I would be in and out checking on it. They guards said alright and simply stared at me processing what I had said. I grabbed the first batch and stuck the second batch in the tiny oven and left. I could feel the guards staring at me and after I placed the Apple Crisp in the middle of our picnic circle on the ground I glanced over at the guards to find them staring in disbelief. They though we were crazy. Indeed, we were a little out of place... three American women and three Senegalese men sitting on a public sidewalk in front of a school at 9:30 at night. The Apple Crisp was absolutely delicious! Fantastic! A secretary man came to the school that night and when he saw us as he began to enter into the first building he was startled, replied to our greetings with a brittle "bon soir" and then angrily marched over to the guards sitting about 50 feet away from us. We could see him heatedly discussing the situation and see the guards chuckle; with their hand motions you could tell were explaining that we were sitting just outside of the building because we were not allowed to bring our friends inside of the building. The man walked back, made stiff smile at us, and then entered the gate. I noticed one of the guards following him and I wanted a picture of our Thanksgiving gathering so I stood up and asked him to take a picture of us. He was a little startled but then grinned at me as he said it was not a problem. The rest of the night went smoothly... the guards were happy with how we cleaned up our cooking mess, we had a picture of the festivities, and the six of us had successfully eaten two large platters of Apple Crisp between laughter, conversation, people watching, passing traffic, and a power-outage! Oh, and the secretary man was back to his normal self the following day so no harm done.
Though it may sound silly, it felt good to rebel a bit... well, I am not sure what we did can be considered as rebelling but honestly we were hoping to make a point. In Senegal, the country of "teranga" (hospitality), if the Senegalese are not allowed into a Cultural Learning Center to celebrate the holidays with attending students, then what gives us foreigners, or students, the right to celebrate the holidays there? Besides, sharing is caring here and caring is community... we were simply setting an example of teranga... we were simply showing that we understand the meaning of community and cultural exchange... if they eat outside, we eat outside... if the only way for them to share our food is to eat outside, the we eat outside :)
Our Thanksgiving Apple Crisp feast... we ate two of those platters!***
The Christmas holiday was a whirlwind! At first I was a little lonely because due to unexpected circumstances I ended up being slightly alone... at first I thought, "holy moley, I am in Dakar, Senegal, Africa without my family, my closest friends, and my closest friend who was studying here but returned to America. Not easily admitted, it was a slightly emotional Christmas Eve and even more so because I skyped with my baby brother who was so damn cute! He made my eyes fill up with tears instantly - the singing, giggling, attempts to talk which really sounded like gibberish, and kisses through the screen tore my heart open. After skyping Christmas Eve evening I went home to find that my family was having a special dinner. I washed up, played cards and eye-spy games with my little sister and then enjoyed dinner. We had a type of bird (the only type of meat I can stomach lately... it was sort of like chicken but less veiny) with homemade french fries, the most delicious sauteed onions with spices, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and bread. The meal was followed by fruit AND juice! It was a blast; we all chatted, made jokes, and laughed at my host father who was completely unaware. I was sitting there eating my orange when I heard giggles. I looked up to see two of my brothers trying to hold back their giggles through their grins as they looked down to the ground in attempts to hide their adorable faces. I looked up at the double doors to the salon and was smacked in the face by a piercing image I will never forget: My host father was stepping down from the entrance... shirt pulled up to his chest uncovering his belly that honestly looked like it contained sextuplets! His eyes were squinted, he breathed heavily, he leaned back as he swaggered in his walk, one of his hands was on his back, the other hand was basically trying to support his hanging belly, and he was mumbling about how full and exhausted he felt. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing which only perpetuated my brothers laughter and invited my little sister and other brother to the scene. It took about 5min for us all to calm down. Seriously, it was priceless. After dinner I played cards with my siblings for an hour, went to part of a Christian church service with another student here to see what it was like, saw my favorite Senegalese brother (he is really the cousin of a friend but he is has a place in my heart as a brother) and then I opened my favorite Christmas card of all time. I was exhausted.
When we arrived at the house I was shocked. Although it is definitely still in construction, I found it beautiful... the potential for that house in amazing. The stairs and walls were not yet finished and so raw brick and cinder blocks were showing and there was white powder, dust, and cement in various places but the layout of the house was neat and very open. Many houses in Senegal have open stairwells that lead outside so when it rains the house is wet with water. The material of the houses, brick and then various tiles, allow for sweeping the water into drains, sheep sacrifices, and easy daily cleaning methods. There were many bedrooms and then a courtyard near stairs that lead to an upstairs with more rooms and more balcony gathering areas. The kitchen and a cooking space with a dirt floor are downstairs . There was also a salon/living room with a Christmas tree and a sign that said Joyeux Noel (well the joyeux part fell down but it had been there at one point in time). Walking into the door we greeted all the women cooking and my cousin Dib (Felicity is her real name but Dieb is what most everyone calls her; while my host mother was on the pilgrimage to Mecca she was the cousin that stayed at my house for over a month to cook, clean, keep us company, and help run the house. She is 25 I believe... strong, beautiful, very Christian, very Segegalese, and wonderful... she has a boyfriend who is nice and has been at most of our huge family parties... I never see them show affection but I know he loves her when he is there around her, I can see it, and she tells me she loves him when we are alone) wow, I talked to long about that, anyways, she was super excited to see me and the other girls. She kept telling met that she was feeling nostalgic each time she looked at me and kept saying, "Laaaaaaacey! Ca va?!" It was great. My emptiness of family was filled by my Senegalese family and I spent the day cooking and laughing with a bunch of strong Senegalese woman.
The feast was absolutely huge; we fed at least 75people but I am pretty sure it was more. Once again, I ate enough for at least 6people. It is impossible to share every detail but after we lunch we cleaned up while drinking juices. I left with my little sister (Khadi went to her home for the holiday because she is Christain and wanted to be with her family for Christmas). I got us through the crazy bus system and home to our family in about an hour or so. I carted a dish of our Christmas feast for the family the whole way... I felt very Senegalese... taking, or even knowing how to take public transportation, responsible for a younger sibling, and bring home dinner to the family.
We arrived home, I quickly caught up with my mom and passed on the greetings from her mother and sisters etc. and then I sped off to the cyber cafe to chat with my American family. I skyped with Melissa and Michael in Hawaii (sister & brother in law), my dad and Eva in Grants Pass, Katie (wonderful friend) for 2min in Dayton, and then my mom, Mike, Gma, Gpa, and Michael Emmitt in Redding. I was brain-dead. It was so much talking and explaining I was exhausted. It was an exciting time. After talking with many of my loved ones I went home for dinner with my family - we had the left-overs from the day... it was sort of neat for me because I knew that I had helped cook it and my mother and father loved it so the fact that we all thought it was delicious made me feel as if I contributed a little to our Christmas dinner.
For dessert we had a frozen cake thing, actual cake with frosting frozen, don't know, some Senegalese style cake. After that I finished the night by giving my family their gifts! THEY LOVED IT! My mom and sister sent me a package with gifts we had decided would be nice for the family. The kids liked the cards, coloring books, slinky, sudoku, and mp3 player as well a the chocolate and my mother... well... when she saw the framed photo of her in her beautiful boubou the night she left for her pilgrimage in Mecca she started humming, singing, yelling, turning around in circles, and dancing. She hugged the photo and then hugged me and did the exchange of kisses on the cheeks. She LOVED it. The framed picture of her and the framed picture of her with her kids and husband are now propped, hanging from the headboard of my mom's bed. I believe Christmas night was one the times I have seen her most happy. It was incredible. She is lovely.
My friend Laila visiting from the Peace Corps in Morocco and Me in front of the Christmas Tree We came home from a walk and there was a Christmas Tree! Surprise!
Papa Noel! He plays the tune of Jingle Bells - sometimes Marianne would play it for at least 10minutes at a time... I thought I was going to go crazy but I think her jolly, frolicking dancing kept me upbeat each time :)
Little Sister Marianne and Me in front of our Christmas tree.
Me with three of my cousins I was cooking with.
That is only a portion of the bird we ate!
Two out of five or six platters of homemade french-fries!
The Senegalese are all about the SAUCE - I could take a bath in this pot. We cooked the bird first, then we used the oil for the onions and spices which was joined with peas and a bit of corn and then the bird was thrown in there before it was served... I ate enough for at least 4 people.Friday, December 24, 2010
SICAP Baobab
I live in SICAP Baobab and I walk to school... as well as most everywhere else I go. Even though the semester is finished, I probably walk to my school every day or every other day to use the internet, to fill my water bottle up, to ask job questions, to check the mail, or to use the bathroom before I get to my final destination. My house is in close proximity to the ACI Baobab Center (my school). It takes approximately 10 minutes to walk to there. If I am Senegalese the walk takes me 15 minutes. If I am American the walk takes me 7 minutes. In general I melange (mix) my identities and take about 10 minuets to walk. I think you would be surprised by the slow pace of walking here; the strolling is more of a meandering, a definite leisurely pace. Time is not money in Senegal, time does not function as it does in the United States. Also, though I did not drive around McMinnville much anyways, I do not plan on driving around there when I return. Americans are way too dependent on motor vehicles. Walking and biking will definitely be my modes of transportation along with public transportation, especially since it is not only better for the environment but for my health as well- I'll just pretend I do not have a car :)
Anyways, I live in the same quartier (neighborhood) as my school. Each quartier is different and yet there are the same cultural idiosyncrasies and similar communal interactions. Boutiques are everywhere; on every corner and basically in between every two houses there is a boutique - boutiques consist of crackers, sodas, phone cards, soaps, feminine products, French bread, fake hair for tresses (braiding), cigarettes... everything. The roads within the quartiers always have at least one or two people strolling among them as well as groups of people gathered on the sidewalks, in front of boutiques, in courtyards, or sometimes even in the middle of the street. I found from experience that it is completely acceptable for families to set up large tents in the middle of the road outside of their house for family fetes (parties) - often times there are parties or family gatherings for baby baptisms, funerals, weddings, holidays, or any grand occasion they might be having and the road is free access. My first time encountering the "road gatherings" was one time when I was walking home after class. I turned one of the corners within my path home and found myself starring at a large yellow tent with at least 50 people sitting under its shade. I was hoping the honking taxis or the maze of cars and taxis turning around to use a different route would help my attempt to be discrete as I tried to slide between the tent and the cement wall guarding the neighboring house but I didn't stand a chance - white, carrying a backpack, blond hair, and no traditional clothing on... I was spotted instantly. I was bombarded with Wolof greetings and French invitations to join in the festivities. I politely refused and eventually, after about 25 salutations made it out of there intact. Although it was slightly overwhelming I felt fantastic. I felt as if I was a member of the community. During our orientation here people explained to us that "your community is your protection" and even though I heard it, it did not really sink in until I experienced my community.
At times it used to be slightly overwhelming to walk in my quartier because I tend to like to go unnoticed when I am walking places and that in impossible here. I have learned to embrace it and now walking in my quartier is either no biggie or something I look forward to; once I cross the invisible line into SICAP Baobab I feel safe, I feel at home.
Senegalese culture is based on the ideals of community and reproduction is the main function within this society. Marriage and kids are priorities and your surrounding community, as well as your family, is your support system. Thus, greetings are a must. I talk to at least 10 people each time I leave my house whether or not it is my neighbors, the young men in the tiny shoe store next to my house or people passing by or people 5 streets away from my house... it is just what people do here, especially to those who stick out. In Dakar when you pass your neighbors or people in the street you greet them with "Asalaam malekum" or with a simple, "Bonjour! Ca va?" These greetings usually lead into more of the "how are you? how is your family" type conversations which are very common. The salutations here notions of respect and respect for the elders and for your community members and for people in general is important. Some of my favorite interactions are when the little kids walking home from school scream out in their tiny little voices, "Bonjour! Ca va!?" as they run towards me with their little hands out for the hand grab. I also love when I greet elderly people in the streets because they are so shocked I can speak the Wolof greetings and respond to all of them as they ask me questions... sometimes their face looks like they have seen a dinosaur or they just laugh or they keep asking questions until I have to say that I don't understand them because I only speak a little Wolof or "degguma... degg naa Wolof tutti, tutti, rekk."
Cheers,
Lacey
Anyways, I live in the same quartier (neighborhood) as my school. Each quartier is different and yet there are the same cultural idiosyncrasies and similar communal interactions. Boutiques are everywhere; on every corner and basically in between every two houses there is a boutique - boutiques consist of crackers, sodas, phone cards, soaps, feminine products, French bread, fake hair for tresses (braiding), cigarettes... everything. The roads within the quartiers always have at least one or two people strolling among them as well as groups of people gathered on the sidewalks, in front of boutiques, in courtyards, or sometimes even in the middle of the street. I found from experience that it is completely acceptable for families to set up large tents in the middle of the road outside of their house for family fetes (parties) - often times there are parties or family gatherings for baby baptisms, funerals, weddings, holidays, or any grand occasion they might be having and the road is free access. My first time encountering the "road gatherings" was one time when I was walking home after class. I turned one of the corners within my path home and found myself starring at a large yellow tent with at least 50 people sitting under its shade. I was hoping the honking taxis or the maze of cars and taxis turning around to use a different route would help my attempt to be discrete as I tried to slide between the tent and the cement wall guarding the neighboring house but I didn't stand a chance - white, carrying a backpack, blond hair, and no traditional clothing on... I was spotted instantly. I was bombarded with Wolof greetings and French invitations to join in the festivities. I politely refused and eventually, after about 25 salutations made it out of there intact. Although it was slightly overwhelming I felt fantastic. I felt as if I was a member of the community. During our orientation here people explained to us that "your community is your protection" and even though I heard it, it did not really sink in until I experienced my community.
At times it used to be slightly overwhelming to walk in my quartier because I tend to like to go unnoticed when I am walking places and that in impossible here. I have learned to embrace it and now walking in my quartier is either no biggie or something I look forward to; once I cross the invisible line into SICAP Baobab I feel safe, I feel at home.
Senegalese culture is based on the ideals of community and reproduction is the main function within this society. Marriage and kids are priorities and your surrounding community, as well as your family, is your support system. Thus, greetings are a must. I talk to at least 10 people each time I leave my house whether or not it is my neighbors, the young men in the tiny shoe store next to my house or people passing by or people 5 streets away from my house... it is just what people do here, especially to those who stick out. In Dakar when you pass your neighbors or people in the street you greet them with "Asalaam malekum" or with a simple, "Bonjour! Ca va?" These greetings usually lead into more of the "how are you? how is your family" type conversations which are very common. The salutations here notions of respect and respect for the elders and for your community members and for people in general is important. Some of my favorite interactions are when the little kids walking home from school scream out in their tiny little voices, "Bonjour! Ca va!?" as they run towards me with their little hands out for the hand grab. I also love when I greet elderly people in the streets because they are so shocked I can speak the Wolof greetings and respond to all of them as they ask me questions... sometimes their face looks like they have seen a dinosaur or they just laugh or they keep asking questions until I have to say that I don't understand them because I only speak a little Wolof or "degguma... degg naa Wolof tutti, tutti, rekk."
Cheers,
Lacey
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Precious Babes
Awa
Mohamed
Jeanne
BoubacarDays at the Pouponniere are going well! I feel as if I am slowly building rapport and each time I visit I get a little further into the Pouponniere family. The babies names are slowly becoming ingrained in my brain as well; believe it or not, it is very difficult to memorize 80 babies' names, especially when they are Senegalese names and Muslim names. The women at the orphanage talk to me more now and help me learn the names of the babies. They are also learning my name and making jokes with me. The Senegalese women who work there are very strong and animated; by strong, I mean emotionally and physically. They are efficient in every way, whether or not it is getting the babies to stop crying, to stop throwing something, to stop biting something or whether or not it is cleaning the babies, feeding the babies, or giving medication to the babies. It is fascinating to watch the work because they are carrying out a job and yet they are doing it with grace, love, and efficiency. I would just like to say that I am also slightly efficient at the orphanage; I never thought I could entertain 40 babies at a time or hold 7 babies at a time or have 10 babies crawling on me at the same time. I am passed the point of being overwhelmed and at the point where problem solving and multitasking comes natural. Although it is inevitable for me to be sad after spending time with the lovely babes, I am still thankful for the opportunity to give a little love to my new Pouponniere family.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
HIV/AIDS
Last Wednesday I had a three hour lecture and seminar course on HIV/AIDS. The seminar was incredible; it was very informative as it took my mind to a sociological and anthropological level of bliss. The course commenced with the origins of the epidemic proceeding to information concerning the scope of the epidemic worldwide and then covered the epidemic specifically in reference to Africa, sub-Saharan Africa, and then Senegal.
A co-founder of the African Consultants International (ACI) - which is where my school program stems from and is the Dakar, Senegal branch of the ACI program - was a frontier in the efforts in battling the HIV/AIDS epidemic. She approached the epidemic with a sociological and anthropological framework transitioning the issue from a statistical, medical epidemic to a social epidemic. Thus, with her innovative efforts HIV/AIDS was transformed into being viewed as an epidemic effecting each socio-economic aspect of life (health, economy, family interactions, social networks, food production, etc.) and the methods of prevention, education, and solution finding have been highly influenced, involving positive, increased efforts against the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
I simply wanted to share a few facts, numbers, and information that was either shocking, mind-boggling, interesting, or a piece of information I was ignorant of before the seminar.
A co-founder of the African Consultants International (ACI) - which is where my school program stems from and is the Dakar, Senegal branch of the ACI program - was a frontier in the efforts in battling the HIV/AIDS epidemic. She approached the epidemic with a sociological and anthropological framework transitioning the issue from a statistical, medical epidemic to a social epidemic. Thus, with her innovative efforts HIV/AIDS was transformed into being viewed as an epidemic effecting each socio-economic aspect of life (health, economy, family interactions, social networks, food production, etc.) and the methods of prevention, education, and solution finding have been highly influenced, involving positive, increased efforts against the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
I simply wanted to share a few facts, numbers, and information that was either shocking, mind-boggling, interesting, or a piece of information I was ignorant of before the seminar.
- HIV/AIDS began 27 years ago
- HIV/AIDS has caused over 25 million deaths
- the total number of people living with HIV is estimated at 33.4 million people globally
- it is estimated that there are nearly 7,500 new infections each day
- Africa holds 10% of the global population and is home to approximately 70% of all people living with HIV/AIDS
- more than three in four (76%) of AIDS deaths in the world in 2007 occurred in Sub-Saharan Africa, illustrating the unmet need for antiretroviral treatment in that part of the world despite significant advances
- Southern Africa alone accounts for 35% of people with HIV globally and one third (32%) of all new HIV infections and AIDS deaths in the world
- almost 61% of adults living with HIV in Sub-Saharan Africa, in 2007 were women.
- infection rates in young African women are far higher than in young men - rates among teenage girls are three to five times higher than in teenage boys (the biological make-up of the lining of the uterus is more susceptible to HIV/AIDS in younger females than older females as the uterus is in developmentally different stages)
- microbicides! - for the first time new HIV prevention research in 2009 reported efficacy in a microbicide controlled and initiated by women
- there is a concentrated epidemic with rates below 3% in the general populations but higher rates concentrated in certain groups with high risk behavior and in certain areas
- there are approximately 80,000 people living with HIV in Senegal - 9 women for every 5 men have HIV
- over 30,000 people have died of AIDS
- there are approximately 10,000 orphans as a result of HIV/AIDS
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesdays are my deep breathing days.
Head resting on the faded blue mat weaning from years of parentless babes’ first crawls, fingers pinching the teal fabric belonging to the nurses-jacket of the woman taking the babes’ temperatures, and little, squirmy, scarred feet wrapped in my hands, his gaze scrutinized my aura. I could feel his eyes deciphering my intentions, my character, my stability. He breathed me in and I let him. I tried with all my being to wordlessly assure him that I all I wanted to do was give him the love he deserves, even if it is only on every Wednesday for four hours, for four months.
I volunteer one day a week at the Pouponniere, an orphanage in the suburb of Dakar called Medina. It is a facility for infants between the ages of newborn and one year old. Abdu, the precious 2 year old I spoke of above is one of the 80-plus infants I spend time with on Wednesdays.
For a reson I have yet to find, Abdu is 2 years old and still staying in the orphanage... he is the oldest little one there. If it was economically possible I would take this two year old parentless child as my own. He is loud, rambunctious, snarky, completely in need of human touch, and devoid of life stability. I wish I could be his protector; however, since I am aware that it is not possible for me to be his or healthy for me to dwell on such matters, I simply give him extra hugs, kisses, and foot rubs when possible. Sometimes he acts like he does not want my hugs and foot-rubs but I know he does because he never moves away from me. There are times when I hug him and he holds his guard, not embracing me back, but he never refuses me. He pretends to not notice the kisses on his forehead until I walk away. The best times are when he gives into the love exuding from my caresses and lunges his tummy across my legs so I can rub his little back, or when I am rubbing one foot and then he sneaks his second little foot into my palm for more gentle baby-squeezes. The hardest times are when he reciprocates my embraces or when he sees a crying baby, walks over to them, and caresses their check before he tosses a toy at them to play with. The hardest times are when I have to stop my kisses and walk away from him standing in his white-metal crib yelling at me in a mixture of baby language and Wolof. I adore him. I adore all of them. The three Awa’s, the bubbly Boubacar, the three Ada’s, the smiley Mohamed, the giggly Amel, and the other babes’ whose names haven’t quite fit into my brain yet.
There is more to tell but for the moment I do not have the words, perhaps next time...
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Youssou Ndour
Last night I saw Youssou Ndour in concert. If you are not familiar with him, I suggest you look him up online. He is very famous in Africa and ESPECIALLY in Senegal since he is Senegalese. He performs all over the world, including in the United States so that is neat. Although he is a musician by profession, he holds quite a bit of political power and he owns one of the six privately owned television stations in all of Senegal. Yes, his presence is highly noticed and scrutinized by the government. He is for the people, thus the people here adore him - and when I say people, I mean people of all ages.
The concert was a unique experience - off and on groups of men or groups of women broke out in traditional dance, forming circles or lines with the same rhythm/movement or creating dances where one person passes the "spotlight" to the next. The people were constantly making new friends and dancing with people they have never met before; that is simply because in this culture everyone is friends with everyone, not just at concerts. I have many friends all over the area I live in and my Senegalese friends are constantly chatting with new people when we go places; the lifestyle here is based on community, thus, life is calculated and judged on communal strength. Back to the concert, it was lovely to turn around and see a group of 3 or 4 men grinning and dancing back and forth with each other as if they were communicating like family. The dancing here is a form of communication; it is connection building. For example, last night I went to the concert with three other Linfield ladies and then two Senegalese men. We met one other young Senegalese man and he joined us in dancing, the boys danced together, he danced with us girls, and then after the concert he came to eat with us, chatting it up and exchanging phone numbers. We danced with others but he stuck with us the most.
The music itself was fantastic. The musicians are very talented and the vocals were excellent - there is definitely a different sound to the vocals, or obviously music in general here. Also, the drumming was incredible. The beats make you feel soooo good and because I did not grow up with the dancing styles here the dances feel unique to me. It is fun to dance the Senegalese style - at the clubs there is a mixture of Senegalese music with the traditional beats and then other hip-hop/rap, a lot of it American of French so it is fun to switch between the dancing styles. The concert was definitely pure Senegalese.
Well, there is a tid-bit on music culture - here are a few pictures and a couple of videos - if the sound on the videos is not good I apologize, but at least you can see what it looked like at the concert. Oh me goodness, I almost forgot! After the concert we went to eat at this neat bar/night cafe place AND I actually ate chicken by choice, chewed it, and loved it. It was the first time I actually enjoyed the meat itself; it was a perfectly white, fresh, flavorful barbecued chicken breast. I doubt this will happen again though, I am very picky with the meat I eat :)
My girlfriend Jenna and me.
Jenna, Ndiaw (my friend Arielle's neighbor and nice guy who helps us get places, shows us around, and has random connections to games, concerts, etc. here in Dakar), Me
JJ, Arielle, Jenna, Me
Youssou Ndour
Video of a an incredible, crazy dancer - I didn't get him dancing much because I was so distracted by it and watched instead of took videos :)
The concert was a unique experience - off and on groups of men or groups of women broke out in traditional dance, forming circles or lines with the same rhythm/movement or creating dances where one person passes the "spotlight" to the next. The people were constantly making new friends and dancing with people they have never met before; that is simply because in this culture everyone is friends with everyone, not just at concerts. I have many friends all over the area I live in and my Senegalese friends are constantly chatting with new people when we go places; the lifestyle here is based on community, thus, life is calculated and judged on communal strength. Back to the concert, it was lovely to turn around and see a group of 3 or 4 men grinning and dancing back and forth with each other as if they were communicating like family. The dancing here is a form of communication; it is connection building. For example, last night I went to the concert with three other Linfield ladies and then two Senegalese men. We met one other young Senegalese man and he joined us in dancing, the boys danced together, he danced with us girls, and then after the concert he came to eat with us, chatting it up and exchanging phone numbers. We danced with others but he stuck with us the most.
The music itself was fantastic. The musicians are very talented and the vocals were excellent - there is definitely a different sound to the vocals, or obviously music in general here. Also, the drumming was incredible. The beats make you feel soooo good and because I did not grow up with the dancing styles here the dances feel unique to me. It is fun to dance the Senegalese style - at the clubs there is a mixture of Senegalese music with the traditional beats and then other hip-hop/rap, a lot of it American of French so it is fun to switch between the dancing styles. The concert was definitely pure Senegalese.
Well, there is a tid-bit on music culture - here are a few pictures and a couple of videos - if the sound on the videos is not good I apologize, but at least you can see what it looked like at the concert. Oh me goodness, I almost forgot! After the concert we went to eat at this neat bar/night cafe place AND I actually ate chicken by choice, chewed it, and loved it. It was the first time I actually enjoyed the meat itself; it was a perfectly white, fresh, flavorful barbecued chicken breast. I doubt this will happen again though, I am very picky with the meat I eat :)
My girlfriend Jenna and me.
Jenna, Ndiaw (my friend Arielle's neighbor and nice guy who helps us get places, shows us around, and has random connections to games, concerts, etc. here in Dakar), Me
JJ, Arielle, Jenna, Me
Youssou NdourVideo of a an incredible, crazy dancer - I didn't get him dancing much because I was so distracted by it and watched instead of took videos :)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Oh my goodness, yesterday was one month!
We visited a few other universities and study centers in order to familiarize ourselves with other available resources - there are computer labs and libraries at other learning facilities we can use. My friend Jenna took this picture of us: Avalon, Me, Arielle, JJ, and Samba (he is our guide and fantastic resource here; he takes us places when we need help or if we are uncomfortable to go somewhere alone).
My friend Jenna took this picture as well - we went simming at the olympic sized swimming pool here in Dakar. In this photo: Me, Jenna, JJ
There were massive diving platforms - we did not get to use them because we were not there during the diving hours but at least we got to swim and watch the kids dance to the loud music playing!
We, the Linfield Students and students from Kalamazoo went to Goree Island for a day so visit the maison des esclaves and a few other museums. The beach was gorgeous and there is a very unique culture on the island... like... well it is a mixture of westernized tourism, cultural heritage pride, and day-to-day life activities.
Me with our three guides - they are young women the center hire to help with orientation year after year. Here we are eating lunch while staring at the beautiful ocean.
maison des eclaves
This is a snap of a really neat mural on building
Goree Island
Last weekend I went with a group of friends to the beach in an area of Dakar called Yoff - we rented an apartment for two nights and just relaxed for a 2 day vacation. This was the lovely view from our balcony.Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tid-bits of Dakar
Our lovely tree and my host sister playing on our swing.
Just a bit of silliness really - I was laying on my bed and this is what I see out of my door
My bed.
Me on the second night - I have bronzed A LOT since this picture.
Before I get to that goat sacrifice I feel the need to share some tid-bits of randomness with you. Although there is definitely a routine in life here, NO DAY IS EVER THE SAME as another day.
- The first time I used the bathroom at my house I got stuck inside of it. I could not open the door. I stood inside panicking, racking my brain on how I was going to shout or explain in French that I was locked in. I was so scared because there is only a key from the inside. Eventually while I was fidgeting with the lock someone yanked open the door. Thank you Pape (hosty-pop). While chuckling he animatedly explained that I simple needed to use a little gerth when opening it.
- I do not chew my food. Well, that is a partial lie. I do not chew the meat I eat… I swallow it. I know, it is terrible but... I can't chew it, I will gag. There is simply tooooooo much meat. It is especially difficult for me when I do not know what type of meat I am eating or that the sheep lying in front of me in delicious sauce had been standing next to me breathing the same air 4 hours earlier. However, I would say I am doing really well for a vegetarian of over 5 years before this trip.
- I love the night life here – I also did not know that it was humanly possible for men to move their bodies the way they do here! Ha ha ha!! It is fantastic to watch.
- Sometimes random women ask me if I need my clothes washed. I used to be slightly confused but figured out that they offer to wash them assuming to be paid if they do; it is job they are asking for. Women ask many people here because money and work are a struggle to find so here Americans, Europeans, or most anyone are great people to ask. I politely decline.
- Fanta and Coca Cola here are the best! No high-fructose corn syrup? Yes please.
- Sometimes people who visit Africa during the rainy season get terrible allergies... I am one of those people.
- I was taking a late night walk with friends and saw the first homeless child sleeping in the bushes. His pillow as a large empty tomato sauce can. The image broke my heart; I wanted to go put his head in my lap and take away the loneliness that was exuding from his sleeping body.
- The flavor or the food here is incredible! Delicious! I am served sauteed onions basically every day and I cannot get enough of them. The food dishes all have rich seasonings and are delightful... as you can tell, the meat is just a little difficult for me to handle.
- A social norm with taxis is that the drivers sometimes make noises, "pss, pss" out of the window or honk if they are available. Being a white girl, EVERY single taxi honks at me if not once, then twice. During orientation sessions we discussed how there are definitely other intentions for some of the honking...
- I secretly have dance parties in bed under my mosquito net – my family has no idea I can actually dance :)
- My host father is a HUGE TALKER. One of the ways I discovered that I am part of the family are my non-verbal interaction with my siblings. The kids are constantly motioning to me when our dad is BS-ing.They motion behind his back when he is wrong or lying. It is hilarious; he is innocently talkin’ it up but it is fantastic when the kids stick their little finger out and wiggle it back it forth at me while he is still talking – it is incredibly difficult for us not to bust-out in laughter in front of him. Words are most definitely not always needed in life.
- I have conversations with random people in the streets every day. A huge cultural aspect of daily life is the greeting exchange. It is very important to say hello and greet people in Wolof, taking the time to ask how they are as well as ask about their family. I talk to random men and women most everyday; because I am obviously limited in speaking the Wolof language, once the Wolof exchange is finished we chat a bit in French. It is wonderful language practice and I feel great after most conversations because the people here are genuinely interested in speaking to me.
- I did not believe the people at the Center when they told us that physical affection, as in a smack or punch in the arm or a nuggy or head pat can create a bond with family members… well… they were correct. I have punched my brothers a few times in the arm and now they talk to me a heck of a lot more. I am more of the loving type though so usually I pat them on the head or do fake nuggies.
- There are patches of sand everywhere here. There are also piles and piles and piles of shells in random places. I mean Dakar is a small peninsula but I do not live near the beach and my house is surrounded by sand.
- I am in hip-hop, R&B, and RAP heaven. The consistent dance beats in my mind help keep a happy heart.
- I hand wash all of my undergarments – I find it quite enjoyable.
Pictures of the street school
They were definitely pulling on my neck and my arms so it was a little tricky to take their photo.
She was beautiful. This portable had holes everywhere, I was a little nervous when I sat inside.
They loved pictures. They giggled so much when they saw this one.
These two adorable boys wanted me to take a lot of pictures with them. The little boy in the red walked around with me holding me hand for the majority of the time he was with us.
This man is an instructor there. He asked me to take this photo of him and the poster.
A classroom is not classroom without a tree growing through it.
A wooden chalk board.
This is a classroom. There is no room for class with the tables covered in random items, books, dusts, eating utensils etc. The mosquito net was a good indication that people sleep inside of the room as were the items of clothing and scattered, tattered shoes.
These were the desks the little girls were sitting at when we arrived - at least 30 years old.
There is not a great waste-management program here - there are random garbage piles throughout different quartiers or down-town sections. Here is the one near where we visited. However, I must say that I have never lived with or seen such sustainable practices in daily life as there is here. The daily routine of having a home (cooking, laundry, taking care of kids, cleaning, etc.) probably results in 1/5 of the waste in homes in America.
We walked in behind the big yellow truck in this picture. Behind it is an alley-ish road that leads to different little living sections, vendors etc. but it is all dirt and no man-made roads.
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