Writing blogs takes so much more energy than I had originally thought. Not to say that I’m going to stop writing them, of course, just to say that recounting all the major events that have occurred since my last post is quite tiring to say the least. There is so much that I would love to share with all of you, but at the same time, it’s entirely impossible for you to understand completely what I have been going through these past few weeks. But let me try. :)
So, I have officially gotten sick. :( Two days ago I woke up with a headache feeling pretty nauseous and tired. Before I left for school, I vomited. Afterward I felt much better, so… hating the idea of missing school and thinking that it was just a onetime sickly feeling in the morning, I grabbed my bag and started the hour walk to school. (I REALLY didn’t want to miss that day because we were taking a field trip to meet with one of the top guys of the World Bank and I wanted to drill him with uncomfortable questions.) However, 10 minutes into my walk, I realized that I didn't really feel up to walking, so I turned around, went back home, grabbed some cash, and caught a cab to school. Halfway there, I realized that the smoggy carbon dioxide saturated air was NOT helping my nausea (which had quickly returned upon my entry of the cab). As soon as we arrived at WARC, I practically through my cash at the driver, whipped open the door and booked it to the bathroom where I proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach, including the malaria pill that I had taken just half an hour before. Just as I was beginning to collect myself, the biggest most disturbing cockroach I have EVER seen comes crawling up from behind the toilet which obviously triggered my gag reflexes and obviously I puked again.
It was at this point that I decided I probably couldn't make it through the day at school... I let the staff at WARC know that I wasn't feeling so hot and headed home. Marie (our domestique) was there along with her sister (whose name I ALWAYS forget) along with her sister's two ADORABLE children: Fatou (6 years old) and Magguette (1 year old). I let them know I didn't feel well, headed to my room to eat the cookies I had and drink some sprite to retake my malaria pill (which needs to be taken with food). Of course, as you can imagine, by this point, no food was going to remain in my system.... unsurprisingly I made many trips to the bathroom. By this time I had a fever and the worst headache ever. My maman came home and came into my room to check on me... I broke down and started crying hysterically like a 5 year old, gasping for air and unable to get a word out about what was wrong. She must have thought I was a complete and total psycho. She just sat down on the edge of the bed with a concerned look on her face, picked up my fan, and started fanning me. Cute. Anyhoo... after I pulled it together, I called Adji (one of the MSID staff) and she came and picked me up to take me to the hospital.
Our insurance doesn't count for anything over here, so of course I was expected to pay for everything, in cash (since no one takes credit cards because very few people have them in the first place). Adji told me that I had to pay for her taxi to pick me up, and then for the taxi to the hospital, and then both our ways back. I would also have to pay the doctor who served me and then for medication (if I ended up needing it). I only had 30,000 CFA (roughly $60) so we were going to have to stop at an ATM for me to get more money. The taxi ride was the most uncomfortable thing EVER. Unstoppable nausea mixed with a jaunting, bumping, slowing, and speeding taxi ride and lots of honking does not make for a fun time. We FINALLY made it to the hospital/ATM. As Adji was leading me to the ATM many men were trying to greet me and talk with me... I almost punched them all in the face. NO I DON'T WANT TO MARRY YOU.
So we get to the ATM. (The ATMs are all inside little rooms with a security guard sitting outside.) I started to go inside one of them and the man told me to wait, but he spoke in very fast frenlof (french/wolof combo) and I didn't understand, so I started to head in again...and both him and Adji forcefully told me to STOP. I finally got the idea and started to cry. again. (basically I'm a big baby) Adji was very nice and comforted me and told me to sit down if it would help. And of course as soon as I sat down, the man inside the ATM room exited and I had to stand back up to enter. I got some money and we headed to the hospital.
I saw a doctor for 10 mins who told me that I was feeling like shit due to something that I had eaten... He wrote me a prescription and sent me on my way. It was interesting because I didn't need to provide any kind of identification or anything. He was writing the prescription and then realized he didn't even know my name, so I had to write it down for him because he couldn't understand me when I was speaking... I paid 20,000 CFA and left to head to the pharmacy to buy these meds. I had to get 2 different kinds (one of which was completely in Arabic/French, and the other which had English directions). So I'm not exactly sure what they are, but they're definitely making me feel better... so I think I'll keep taking them.
I'm feeling much much better now. Sometimes a little nauseous, but pretty much back to normal. So yay for the first sickly experience! I'm glad it's over. Even though there could be more.... I really hope there aren't.
On a much happier note: I've found that laughter is a key factor in survival here. It's a great release of energy and a good way to stay positive instead of getting bogged down in all the negative/frustrating stuff. It's also a universal language! The other night, I came home from school and Marie, Fatou, Maguette, and their mother were there. I was so excited about learning some new Wolof terms, that I booked it inside and started to say "Salaam Maalekum" but as I opened the door, I completely biffed it and fell flat on my grande derriere (big bottom). We all instantly started cracking up. It was hilarious. And then the little one (Maguette) wouldn't stop laughing. Which made us all laugh even more. Beautiful.
The electricity and water have been non-existent lately which means lots of bucket baths! yayyyyyy..... not. I'm definitely much more appreciative of all of the utilities back at home that come with ease (a flick of a switch, a twist of a knob). SO MUCH EASIER. But the people here just keep going when everything else stops. They don't complain. They don't moan and groan. They just light a candle, or turn on a flashlight and continue living, laughing, loving. I love that. I'm a pretty go-with-the-flow kind of person, but all the people here more than put me to shame.
I went to the market the day before I got sick! It was absolute craziness. There were sooooo many vendors trying to sell things. Lots of beautiful fabrics. Lots of mud (since it had rained the day before). I was completely overwhelmed. I was so excited to go to the market and buy some fabric to have a dress made, but upon my arrival, all I could do was just aimlessly wander around and stare at all of the stuff. Again, after some time, I pulled it together and whipped out my mad bargaining skills. I got 2 different fabrics (one for a sundress, and one for a traditional dress) as well as a pair of shoes, a bracelet, and a pan skirt. I was quite proud of myself. There was one point at which I came up with a price that I was willing to pay this one vendor for the pan skirt, and he said no, so I said “fine,” handed him back the skirt and quickly walked away with Lauren. He literally came running chasing after me and gave it to me for the price I had previously stated. It was hilarious. Shortly after that, there was a whole crowd of vendors following Lauren and I, so we just looked at each other, laughed, and RAN. We were too fast for them and all of the stuff they were trying to sell apparently because we didn’t see them after that.
Well, I better end this book now because I have class soon. I tried to post pics the other day, but the internet was totally flaking on me, so I’ll try again soon! Miss you all dearly.
Peace,
<3 Hal
Friday, September 24, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
New Name
Hello everyone :)
I have a Senegalese name! Je m'appelle Ndela Badji (nndayla bajjee). It's quite ironic actually: before I left the states, all of us who are a part of the MSID program were given a "pre-departure reading guide" and there were a bunch of Senegalese names listed, so I read through them and throught Ndela sounded pretty... I came home from school one day last week and my maman gave me the name Ndela. Pretty cool huh?!
Anyhoo... I have had many new adventures since my last post and if I were to write about them all, your eyes would probably fall out of their sockets... so I'll just quick touch on a few. (And when I say quick, I mean I'll do my best to condense my stories down a little... but you know me... ramble ramble ramble...)
Story #1: I went to the beach! It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL. I went with my friend Lauren and her host sister Leoni. So, you all know how pale I am regularly... well imagine me in a swimsuit amidst a whole crowd of seriously beautiful black Africans. Needless to say... I stood out just a little. The beach would have been fabulous if it were not for all of the men constantly "bumping" into me and asking me my name and bla bla bla. One guy (named Babocar Seck) followed me around for close to an hour! He told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I told him to bug off, but he seriously would NOT leave me alone. Lauren finally got him to go away and we enjoyed swimming and laying on the beach. A wee bit later, as we were just about ready to leave, Babocar approaches me for the 50 millionth time and hands me a torn off piece of a cardboard food box with his name and his number on it... only he continues to tell me that the number beneath his name was his mother's number, so when I called (psh... like I was going to call!) I should ask to speak with him. Leoni, Lauren and I had a good little giggle over that.
Story #2: It's rainy. It is the rainy season! It takes me just over an hour to walk to school, which I love because it gives me time to observe the everyday culture, prepare myself mentally for the day, and practice my greetings with all the fabulous Senegalese people in the street. :) But when it's raining...it makes the walk a bit miserable. The first time it rained on my way home, it was kind of fun just to walk and think in the rain (even though it took 2.5 days for my clothes to dry). It was hilarious because I was just strolling along, minding my own business, but all the Senegalese people ran for cover and were waiting it out under overhangs and in little boutiques. When I would walk by, they would just stare at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was a little, because now when it rains and I know I have to walk home, it's kind of a bit of a pain... But the good news is: when it's December and all of you back home in Minnesota are complaining about the cold and the snow and the bitter wind, I'll be laying on the beach. :)
Story #3: It was the end of Ramadan on Friday so school was canceled and there was a huge celebration called Korite (cor-ee-tay)! As you all know, most of Senegal is comprised of Islamic citizens (minus the 10% or so that is Catholic - which includes my maman) meaning that this holiday is widely celebrated. The cool thing is: everyone celebrates in some way or another, even if he/she is not Muslim! All of the Muslim neighbors bring special dishes to their neighbor families that are Catholic! And then on the Catholic holidays, the Catholic families prepare food for the Muslim families. What a neat thing. Talk about mutual respect!
Because my mother is Catholic, she was going to go to a friend's home to celebrate at a Muslim friend's home. I decided to go hang out with Lauren's family. (Her family is quite large, and I like being there as it is a better place to practice my French because there are more people with whom to practice.) Lauren, Leoni and I painted our nails and hung out in their beautiful (LARGE) home. I loved it. There was no sense of time. We had all day to relax, eat amazing food, paint our nails and braid our hair. (Yes...we were totally being girly girls and enjoying every minute!) That evening, we went out dancing at a club! Only the club was empty because most Muslims do not go out on the evening of Korite as they have just spent a lunar month cleansing themselves of their sins... so why would they go out right away after all that hard work? Saturday night... well, that's a different story. :) It was still lots of fun: the club was cool and we danced a lot anyway and didn't have to pay a cover fee because apparently Lauren's host brother Pierre had an "in" with the owner or something! We returned to Lauren's around 3 or 4 in the morning. :)
Story #3: Saturday night. I decided to sleep pretty much all day Saturday, and Saturday night most of our MSID group decided that it would be fun to go out together! The plan was to meet at our friend Kenzie's home for bisap and chillin' around 10 PM and then go dancing around midnight. A few people met at Lauren's home before that to chill there and then we would all walk together to Kenzie's. It was so much fun! Most people brought siblings from their families and almost the entire MSID group was there, so there were about 30 of us that went out! We went to a different club than the one I attended the night before and there were SOOOOOO MANY PEOPLE there. Dancing is definitely one of my favorite things to do, so being in this place with such a diverse group of people was definitely something I'll never forget. I didn't return to my home until 5:30AM!!! People don't go out until much later here, and stay out until the wee hours of the morning. When we left the club, it was still extremely packed and showed no signs of letting up! Crazy!
Story #4: I have multiple mother figures here. So yesterday (Sunday) was a chillaxed day for me. I did lots of homework, cleaned my room, and went to buy another phone card and lots of water for the week. There is small football field down the street from my home where all the children go to play soccer and the old people go to sit in the shade of the trees. It's very open so most of the time there is a nice little breeze and always good company. I went to sit with my maman and one of her friends whose name is Marie. Because it has been so rainy lately, the football field was beginning to turn into a small lake. (it is composed completely of sand, like everything else here) Because the children love to play soccer so much, they were emptying the field of the water bucket by bucket. It was so much work and it was so hot out! It was beautiful to see all of them working together to clean the field so that they could play together. No one complained, everyone pitched in, and no one asked them to do it. So cool.
Marie, Maman, and I were sitting and chatting when all of a sudden a young man close to my age approached me and asked if he could have a drink of my water (I had a bottle sitting at my feet) Marie told him no, but he still didn't leave. He took my right wrist and began to examine my bracelets. (At this point, we could all tell that he had been drinking.) He took the only bracelet he had off of his wrist and added it to the collection on mine (it was made of metal, so he put it on and squeezed it tightly shut.) At this point I was completely confused and didn't know how to respond because I didn't know if this bracelet was a symbol of some sort or if my accepting it meant something more than just accepting a gift. Then, out of the blue, and old man with no teeth and extreme body odor approached the young man and took him by his shirt collar and started yelling at him in Wolof. I could pick out that he was scolding him for talking to me and giving me this bracelet. My maman began to attempt to take the bracelet off my wrist and the old man started trying to talk to me at the same time and I was completely dumbfounded by the whole situation that I just sat there trying to make out what this man was trying to tell me. But we all know that my competence level in Wolof is about a 1 on a scale of 1 to 10. The bracelet was stuck on my arm because it had been squeezed so tightly and we had trouble getting it off. As soon as we slid it off, Marie said "allez-y" ("let's go") so we picked up our chairs and moved about 20 ft. to the outside of Marie's home. Both women were completely astounded that this man would do such a thing to me and kept checking to see if I was ok. I was completely fine, just a bit bewildered. "DeffDeff" (duffaduff) kept coming up in the conversation which means "crazy." Apparently both men were just drunk and being stupid. It was endearing to see how much both women were genuinely upset for me. They then continued to talk about all the mosquito bites I have on my legs and how awful they look and asked if I was using bug spray and taking my malaria meds. Later that evening Marie Therese came over for dinner and she was worried about my legs as well. I feel very well looked after here, as all of Maman's friends are becoming extremely endearing motherly figures.
Until next time,
Peace,
Ndela
I have a Senegalese name! Je m'appelle Ndela Badji (nndayla bajjee). It's quite ironic actually: before I left the states, all of us who are a part of the MSID program were given a "pre-departure reading guide" and there were a bunch of Senegalese names listed, so I read through them and throught Ndela sounded pretty... I came home from school one day last week and my maman gave me the name Ndela. Pretty cool huh?!
Anyhoo... I have had many new adventures since my last post and if I were to write about them all, your eyes would probably fall out of their sockets... so I'll just quick touch on a few. (And when I say quick, I mean I'll do my best to condense my stories down a little... but you know me... ramble ramble ramble...)
Story #1: I went to the beach! It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL. I went with my friend Lauren and her host sister Leoni. So, you all know how pale I am regularly... well imagine me in a swimsuit amidst a whole crowd of seriously beautiful black Africans. Needless to say... I stood out just a little. The beach would have been fabulous if it were not for all of the men constantly "bumping" into me and asking me my name and bla bla bla. One guy (named Babocar Seck) followed me around for close to an hour! He told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I told him to bug off, but he seriously would NOT leave me alone. Lauren finally got him to go away and we enjoyed swimming and laying on the beach. A wee bit later, as we were just about ready to leave, Babocar approaches me for the 50 millionth time and hands me a torn off piece of a cardboard food box with his name and his number on it... only he continues to tell me that the number beneath his name was his mother's number, so when I called (psh... like I was going to call!) I should ask to speak with him. Leoni, Lauren and I had a good little giggle over that.
Story #2: It's rainy. It is the rainy season! It takes me just over an hour to walk to school, which I love because it gives me time to observe the everyday culture, prepare myself mentally for the day, and practice my greetings with all the fabulous Senegalese people in the street. :) But when it's raining...it makes the walk a bit miserable. The first time it rained on my way home, it was kind of fun just to walk and think in the rain (even though it took 2.5 days for my clothes to dry). It was hilarious because I was just strolling along, minding my own business, but all the Senegalese people ran for cover and were waiting it out under overhangs and in little boutiques. When I would walk by, they would just stare at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was a little, because now when it rains and I know I have to walk home, it's kind of a bit of a pain... But the good news is: when it's December and all of you back home in Minnesota are complaining about the cold and the snow and the bitter wind, I'll be laying on the beach. :)
Story #3: It was the end of Ramadan on Friday so school was canceled and there was a huge celebration called Korite (cor-ee-tay)! As you all know, most of Senegal is comprised of Islamic citizens (minus the 10% or so that is Catholic - which includes my maman) meaning that this holiday is widely celebrated. The cool thing is: everyone celebrates in some way or another, even if he/she is not Muslim! All of the Muslim neighbors bring special dishes to their neighbor families that are Catholic! And then on the Catholic holidays, the Catholic families prepare food for the Muslim families. What a neat thing. Talk about mutual respect!
Because my mother is Catholic, she was going to go to a friend's home to celebrate at a Muslim friend's home. I decided to go hang out with Lauren's family. (Her family is quite large, and I like being there as it is a better place to practice my French because there are more people with whom to practice.) Lauren, Leoni and I painted our nails and hung out in their beautiful (LARGE) home. I loved it. There was no sense of time. We had all day to relax, eat amazing food, paint our nails and braid our hair. (Yes...we were totally being girly girls and enjoying every minute!) That evening, we went out dancing at a club! Only the club was empty because most Muslims do not go out on the evening of Korite as they have just spent a lunar month cleansing themselves of their sins... so why would they go out right away after all that hard work? Saturday night... well, that's a different story. :) It was still lots of fun: the club was cool and we danced a lot anyway and didn't have to pay a cover fee because apparently Lauren's host brother Pierre had an "in" with the owner or something! We returned to Lauren's around 3 or 4 in the morning. :)
Story #3: Saturday night. I decided to sleep pretty much all day Saturday, and Saturday night most of our MSID group decided that it would be fun to go out together! The plan was to meet at our friend Kenzie's home for bisap and chillin' around 10 PM and then go dancing around midnight. A few people met at Lauren's home before that to chill there and then we would all walk together to Kenzie's. It was so much fun! Most people brought siblings from their families and almost the entire MSID group was there, so there were about 30 of us that went out! We went to a different club than the one I attended the night before and there were SOOOOOO MANY PEOPLE there. Dancing is definitely one of my favorite things to do, so being in this place with such a diverse group of people was definitely something I'll never forget. I didn't return to my home until 5:30AM!!! People don't go out until much later here, and stay out until the wee hours of the morning. When we left the club, it was still extremely packed and showed no signs of letting up! Crazy!
Story #4: I have multiple mother figures here. So yesterday (Sunday) was a chillaxed day for me. I did lots of homework, cleaned my room, and went to buy another phone card and lots of water for the week. There is small football field down the street from my home where all the children go to play soccer and the old people go to sit in the shade of the trees. It's very open so most of the time there is a nice little breeze and always good company. I went to sit with my maman and one of her friends whose name is Marie. Because it has been so rainy lately, the football field was beginning to turn into a small lake. (it is composed completely of sand, like everything else here) Because the children love to play soccer so much, they were emptying the field of the water bucket by bucket. It was so much work and it was so hot out! It was beautiful to see all of them working together to clean the field so that they could play together. No one complained, everyone pitched in, and no one asked them to do it. So cool.
Marie, Maman, and I were sitting and chatting when all of a sudden a young man close to my age approached me and asked if he could have a drink of my water (I had a bottle sitting at my feet) Marie told him no, but he still didn't leave. He took my right wrist and began to examine my bracelets. (At this point, we could all tell that he had been drinking.) He took the only bracelet he had off of his wrist and added it to the collection on mine (it was made of metal, so he put it on and squeezed it tightly shut.) At this point I was completely confused and didn't know how to respond because I didn't know if this bracelet was a symbol of some sort or if my accepting it meant something more than just accepting a gift. Then, out of the blue, and old man with no teeth and extreme body odor approached the young man and took him by his shirt collar and started yelling at him in Wolof. I could pick out that he was scolding him for talking to me and giving me this bracelet. My maman began to attempt to take the bracelet off my wrist and the old man started trying to talk to me at the same time and I was completely dumbfounded by the whole situation that I just sat there trying to make out what this man was trying to tell me. But we all know that my competence level in Wolof is about a 1 on a scale of 1 to 10. The bracelet was stuck on my arm because it had been squeezed so tightly and we had trouble getting it off. As soon as we slid it off, Marie said "allez-y" ("let's go") so we picked up our chairs and moved about 20 ft. to the outside of Marie's home. Both women were completely astounded that this man would do such a thing to me and kept checking to see if I was ok. I was completely fine, just a bit bewildered. "DeffDeff" (duffaduff) kept coming up in the conversation which means "crazy." Apparently both men were just drunk and being stupid. It was endearing to see how much both women were genuinely upset for me. They then continued to talk about all the mosquito bites I have on my legs and how awful they look and asked if I was using bug spray and taking my malaria meds. Later that evening Marie Therese came over for dinner and she was worried about my legs as well. I feel very well looked after here, as all of Maman's friends are becoming extremely endearing motherly figures.
Until next time,
Peace,
Ndela
Saturday, September 4, 2010
BEEP BEEP, TOUBAB!
I am already sick of taxis. I mean, I'm very appreciative of the wonderful service that they provide, but just because I'm a "toubab" (a white tourist) does not mean that I want nor need to drive everywhere. Every time one passes a group of us, they honk. Every time they pass any sort of person standing on the side of the road, they honk. Every time they are coming up on the side of another car, they honk. Needless to say, they honk ALL THE TIME.
Anyhoo... here's a funny story for you all: So I was making my way down the streets of Liberte 5 (a section of the city of Dakar) this morning by myself to meet a few friends so we could all walk to school together. Everything was fantastic. It was a cooler morning, but the sun was already shining. It had rained all through the night, so everything was a little bit cleaner (minus the mud), and I was feeling good. All of a sudden a very old man with crooked teeth and a splotchy beard lifted his arm with his index finger pointed and said "toubab" at me... but he didn't just say it once... he followed me for at least 4 blocks practically yelling "toubab!, toubab!, toubab!." I just kind of smiled and kept walking... I tried talking to him a little in French, but that didn't help. Finally, I remembered that I had learned a little bit of Wolof (the regional/more widely spoken language in Dakar) and I attempted to speak to him in Wolof. He stopped in his tracks, laughed, turned around, and walked away. Apparently my Wolof isn't so great yet...
Last night was fabulous. I found my way home from school and then got a wee bit lost, but it was totally fine... I just ended up trusting my instincts. When I got home my mother freaked out a little because it was dark and she didn't have my phone number (except for the fact that she did, she just forgot she did... ha). Our domestique (housemaid) was there whose name is Marie and is about my age. She's very quiet most of the time and a bit shy. I've tried talking with her a few times, but she never really responded so I just assumed that her French wasn't so great. Turns out, she speaks French very well! She was sitting at our small table in the living room working on some homework. So, being myself (exhausted from the walk home and in dire need of some water), I plopped down next to her and asked what she was doing. I was FINALLY able to get some info. out of her and she told me that she was a math and sciences major at a University here in Dakar! I was delighted to have heard more than 3 words escape her mouth so I quickly racked my brain for the correct French words and asked her a few more questions. We fell into a great conversation (and when I say great, I mean that we communicated... seeing as my French is no where close to perfect) and I found out that she would like to learn English! I was so excited that I whipped out the only thing in English that I had in my bag: our WARC (West African Research Center -- where I'm attending school) orientation schedule. I helped her read it, and she did very well. We were laughing and joking a little, and then my maman joined in! We were all speaking in French and a little English and a little Wolof. It was one of those really beautiful moments where everyone involved was making an effort to understand each other. What a cool thing that they were both willing to put themselves in my situation.
It was at exactly that moment that I felt I had made the right decision for myself to study abroad here in Senegal. (I was feeling a bit apprehensive and worried that it was going to be something that I hadn't prepared myself well enough for.) So I'm very much looking forward to getting to know Marie a bit better, and I think we'll end up being good friends.
Now, whenever I ask my Maman or Marie what something means in Wolof, they'll say, "Maintenant, dites-moi quoi ce chose est en anglais." (Now tell me what it is in English.) We have lots of learning going on in our household. :)
I'm happy to be learning about another culture and happy to be teaching about my own. Talk about the most basic form of cross-cultural-understanding and appreciation!
“People can only live fully by helping others to live. When you give life to friends you truly live. Cultures can only realize their further richness by honoring other traditions. And only by respecting natural life can humanity continue to exist.”
- Daisaku Ikeda
Anyhoo... here's a funny story for you all: So I was making my way down the streets of Liberte 5 (a section of the city of Dakar) this morning by myself to meet a few friends so we could all walk to school together. Everything was fantastic. It was a cooler morning, but the sun was already shining. It had rained all through the night, so everything was a little bit cleaner (minus the mud), and I was feeling good. All of a sudden a very old man with crooked teeth and a splotchy beard lifted his arm with his index finger pointed and said "toubab" at me... but he didn't just say it once... he followed me for at least 4 blocks practically yelling "toubab!, toubab!, toubab!." I just kind of smiled and kept walking... I tried talking to him a little in French, but that didn't help. Finally, I remembered that I had learned a little bit of Wolof (the regional/more widely spoken language in Dakar) and I attempted to speak to him in Wolof. He stopped in his tracks, laughed, turned around, and walked away. Apparently my Wolof isn't so great yet...
Last night was fabulous. I found my way home from school and then got a wee bit lost, but it was totally fine... I just ended up trusting my instincts. When I got home my mother freaked out a little because it was dark and she didn't have my phone number (except for the fact that she did, she just forgot she did... ha). Our domestique (housemaid) was there whose name is Marie and is about my age. She's very quiet most of the time and a bit shy. I've tried talking with her a few times, but she never really responded so I just assumed that her French wasn't so great. Turns out, she speaks French very well! She was sitting at our small table in the living room working on some homework. So, being myself (exhausted from the walk home and in dire need of some water), I plopped down next to her and asked what she was doing. I was FINALLY able to get some info. out of her and she told me that she was a math and sciences major at a University here in Dakar! I was delighted to have heard more than 3 words escape her mouth so I quickly racked my brain for the correct French words and asked her a few more questions. We fell into a great conversation (and when I say great, I mean that we communicated... seeing as my French is no where close to perfect) and I found out that she would like to learn English! I was so excited that I whipped out the only thing in English that I had in my bag: our WARC (West African Research Center -- where I'm attending school) orientation schedule. I helped her read it, and she did very well. We were laughing and joking a little, and then my maman joined in! We were all speaking in French and a little English and a little Wolof. It was one of those really beautiful moments where everyone involved was making an effort to understand each other. What a cool thing that they were both willing to put themselves in my situation.
It was at exactly that moment that I felt I had made the right decision for myself to study abroad here in Senegal. (I was feeling a bit apprehensive and worried that it was going to be something that I hadn't prepared myself well enough for.) So I'm very much looking forward to getting to know Marie a bit better, and I think we'll end up being good friends.
Now, whenever I ask my Maman or Marie what something means in Wolof, they'll say, "Maintenant, dites-moi quoi ce chose est en anglais." (Now tell me what it is in English.) We have lots of learning going on in our household. :)
I'm happy to be learning about another culture and happy to be teaching about my own. Talk about the most basic form of cross-cultural-understanding and appreciation!
“People can only live fully by helping others to live. When you give life to friends you truly live. Cultures can only realize their further richness by honoring other traditions. And only by respecting natural life can humanity continue to exist.”
- Daisaku Ikeda
Thursday, September 2, 2010
On partarge tout
This is the scariest, hottest, most physically and mentally exhausting, most challenging thing I have ever done in my entire life. ...and it's only the 4th day. Let's rewind and head back in time to 20 minutes before my flight landed in Dakar.
So I'm sitting on the plane with a semi-achy neck from the flat pillow that was sitting on my seat upon boarding, and I look out the window and see the moon. I instantly got super homesick and started freaking out about my decision to go to Senegal. "Am I ready for this?! I can barely even speak French! I miss my mom! What if I get really sick?! What if all my money gets stolen?! What if I don't make it through customs? What happens if my host family hates me?!" All of these things and more were exploding in my brain at rate of about 50 per second. Then we landed.
Those who were continuing on to South Africa were directed in both French and English to stay aboard the plane, and the rest of us made our way down the aisles to disembark. We climbed down the stairs out of the aircraft and I was instantly drenched in sweat. HOLY HUMIDITY! Anyhoo... we made our way over to a shuttle that transported us to the main terminal where we filled out some paperwork, went through customs, and grabbed our baggage. By time I had everything on my person (a 55L backpacking backpack on my back, a regular backpack on my front, and a duffle that I somehow managed to sling over my head and around my arm) our group was approached by many Senegalese men who were offering to carry our baggage and direct us where to go. One man said, "you follow me, and you follow me only." We all looked at each other and started to follow... turns out he was one of the program leaders whose name is Waly. He's hilarious. We walk to the van which seemed to take FOREVER since I was hauling around the weight of 3 semi-large children and when we finally made it to the van I was disgustingly sweaty and also nauseous from the plane ride. All I wanted was a glass of cold water and a bed. But no. Once the van was loaded with all of our stuff, we proceeded to speed away into the dark of the night on an extremely confusing mess of roads/highways. My first views of Dakar were these:
1) garbage. everywhere.
2) a man hanging off a door on the back of a moving van
3) a bare boned horse eating grass from the median of a major highway with no one to attend to it
4) the hotel
When we made it to the hotel we quickly unloaded our baggage and filled out more paperwork...
FINALLY we were able to go to our rooms. I made it up the stairs (with my 3 small children a.k.a. heavy baggage) and took a minute to check out the space: 2 small beds, a table, a t.v., and a bathroom. Not too shabby. I was so relieved to have arrived that I flopped on the bed. It was the most glorious feeling ever.
The first day we talked a lot about Senegalese cultures and social tendencies and things that are important for a successful journey in Dakar. It amazes me how people share everything ("on partage tout") and take so much time to greet each other. I wish our culture was more like that. We all get so caught up in our own lives that we forget the importance of taking the time to appreciate other people.
Since then, I have moved into my homestay. I'm living with a 57 year old single woman whose name is Maman Anne Marie. She's Catholic (which is interesting since most of the people here are Muslim) extremely nice and already seems to worry about me a lot. The first night there, she had a friend over who is called Marie Therese, she's absolutely hilarious and we all chatted (as much as I could) and drank bisap (a juice that looks like grape juice, but tastes 50 million times better. It's composed mostly of a bisap flower, water, sugar, and some mint). For dinner, Maman cooked fish. Not just any kind of fish... a fish from Fear Factor. It still had it's skin, eye sockets, and teeth. Of course, I didn't want to be rude, and I'm not at all a picky eater, but looking down at my plate, and seeing this fish staring back at me with it's ghostly eye sockets wasn't exactly appealing. But I ate it. I ate every bit of that fish and actually kind of enjoyed it once I stopped staring at it's head. So pats on the back for me! ha :)
Yesterday, the group of us went to Goree Island. It was beautiful. No traffic or any kind of motorized vehicles and rich in history... and vendors. I'm already sick of saying "non merci."
Alright, well I'm all blogged out for the day. Sorry this one was so much "today I did this, then I did this..." bla bla bla.
My brain is exhausted from translating all the time and I continually feel like I could sleep for another 12 hours. I can't wait for a week from today when I can walk to and from school by myself and I'm a little bit more familiar with this vibrant city. :)
"Salam Malekoum" - Every person you meet on the street in Dakar
So I'm sitting on the plane with a semi-achy neck from the flat pillow that was sitting on my seat upon boarding, and I look out the window and see the moon. I instantly got super homesick and started freaking out about my decision to go to Senegal. "Am I ready for this?! I can barely even speak French! I miss my mom! What if I get really sick?! What if all my money gets stolen?! What if I don't make it through customs? What happens if my host family hates me?!" All of these things and more were exploding in my brain at rate of about 50 per second. Then we landed.
Those who were continuing on to South Africa were directed in both French and English to stay aboard the plane, and the rest of us made our way down the aisles to disembark. We climbed down the stairs out of the aircraft and I was instantly drenched in sweat. HOLY HUMIDITY! Anyhoo... we made our way over to a shuttle that transported us to the main terminal where we filled out some paperwork, went through customs, and grabbed our baggage. By time I had everything on my person (a 55L backpacking backpack on my back, a regular backpack on my front, and a duffle that I somehow managed to sling over my head and around my arm) our group was approached by many Senegalese men who were offering to carry our baggage and direct us where to go. One man said, "you follow me, and you follow me only." We all looked at each other and started to follow... turns out he was one of the program leaders whose name is Waly. He's hilarious. We walk to the van which seemed to take FOREVER since I was hauling around the weight of 3 semi-large children and when we finally made it to the van I was disgustingly sweaty and also nauseous from the plane ride. All I wanted was a glass of cold water and a bed. But no. Once the van was loaded with all of our stuff, we proceeded to speed away into the dark of the night on an extremely confusing mess of roads/highways. My first views of Dakar were these:
1) garbage. everywhere.
2) a man hanging off a door on the back of a moving van
3) a bare boned horse eating grass from the median of a major highway with no one to attend to it
4) the hotel
When we made it to the hotel we quickly unloaded our baggage and filled out more paperwork...
FINALLY we were able to go to our rooms. I made it up the stairs (with my 3 small children a.k.a. heavy baggage) and took a minute to check out the space: 2 small beds, a table, a t.v., and a bathroom. Not too shabby. I was so relieved to have arrived that I flopped on the bed. It was the most glorious feeling ever.
The first day we talked a lot about Senegalese cultures and social tendencies and things that are important for a successful journey in Dakar. It amazes me how people share everything ("on partage tout") and take so much time to greet each other. I wish our culture was more like that. We all get so caught up in our own lives that we forget the importance of taking the time to appreciate other people.
Since then, I have moved into my homestay. I'm living with a 57 year old single woman whose name is Maman Anne Marie. She's Catholic (which is interesting since most of the people here are Muslim) extremely nice and already seems to worry about me a lot. The first night there, she had a friend over who is called Marie Therese, she's absolutely hilarious and we all chatted (as much as I could) and drank bisap (a juice that looks like grape juice, but tastes 50 million times better. It's composed mostly of a bisap flower, water, sugar, and some mint). For dinner, Maman cooked fish. Not just any kind of fish... a fish from Fear Factor. It still had it's skin, eye sockets, and teeth. Of course, I didn't want to be rude, and I'm not at all a picky eater, but looking down at my plate, and seeing this fish staring back at me with it's ghostly eye sockets wasn't exactly appealing. But I ate it. I ate every bit of that fish and actually kind of enjoyed it once I stopped staring at it's head. So pats on the back for me! ha :)
Yesterday, the group of us went to Goree Island. It was beautiful. No traffic or any kind of motorized vehicles and rich in history... and vendors. I'm already sick of saying "non merci."
Alright, well I'm all blogged out for the day. Sorry this one was so much "today I did this, then I did this..." bla bla bla.
My brain is exhausted from translating all the time and I continually feel like I could sleep for another 12 hours. I can't wait for a week from today when I can walk to and from school by myself and I'm a little bit more familiar with this vibrant city. :)
"Salam Malekoum" - Every person you meet on the street in Dakar
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