in all endings, there are new beginnings

So much has happened in the last few months, I almost don't even know where to begin...I suppose I'll make a quick blirp about each major event that has happened:

INTERNSHIP: Work at the school has been absolutely amazing. There have definitely been more than a few days where I've been frustrated...with myself, with the resources available (or not available), with my co-workers, etc. But overall, the experience has been incredible and I wouldn't choose anything different if I could start all over. The kids in my classes are generally pretty entertaining and sometimes make it a challenge, but it always keeps me on my toes and ready for anything. I think my favorite part is that I've gotten to know so many different people of different ages, and I learn just as much from them on a daily basis as I am teaching. The students in the 6ieme A, B, and C have all really improved and are certainly moving along. I'm always amazed at how fast they can soak up new information and it's quite rewarding to see them using their new language skills out of the classroom. :) Some of them have taken a liking to throwing in random English words into Wolof conversations... which definitely throws me off balance as I'm so used to speaking to Senegalese people in a Frolof combo (Wolof and French). It's been such a joy and I'm growing a bit sad about leaving in a few short weeks. Saying goodbye will be bitter sweet and I feel so lucky to have gotten to know these fantastic and extraordinary kids.

KEDOUGOU!: Over spring break, Lauren, Emma, Mark (Emma's boyfriend who came to visit her from the States) and I decided to make a trip to the Southwestern corner of Senegal. Kedougou is famous for its beautiful mountainous terrain and the few hidden waterfalls in the jungley forests. We had no set schedule for our excursion and no real reservations or anything, but everything seemed to work its way out. Senegalese Teranga (hospitality) continued to prevail and I was simply amazed at the sheer generosity of strangers. Upon our arrival to Tamba, a family member of a friend of Emma (whom none of us had ever met) had set up mattresses on the floor of her home for us to recover from the treacherous journey and was busy preparing to go to the market to cook us a meal as we humbly drifted through the front door of her home. It was absolutely glorious. I was so tired after the LONG and tiring bus ride (during which the old old man –probably 65+ - sitting next to me proposed, and our bus got a flat tire causing us to transfer onto another bus in the middle of the night), and this woman was a complete savior. Without knowing anything about us, aside from the fact that we knew her husband's coworker, she thoughtlessly welcomed us into her home and then continued to care for us. Gratitude doesn't even begin to cover that type of generosity.
One of her husband's friends came over in the afternoon who used to work at the camp we were planning to stay at that night, so he called his friend and told us that we would be coming and set everything up within 10 minutes of knowing us.
Things like this continued to happen throughout the rest of our journey and all things fell smoothly into place. Vacations planned with the "fly by the seat of your pants" theory really seem to work well in this country. :)
Over the course of 5 days we hit up 5 villages surrounding Kedougou, hiked to and swam in a waterfall, climbed a mountain, saw the oldest and most sacred baobab tree in Senegal, ate lunch with a random family, hitch-hiked a ride in the back of a pick up truck, communicated through Wolof, French, English, and Spanish, and met many new people. It was an extremely successful journey and I'm so content that we had the chance to make it happen.

FOSCO: Schools all over the country of Senegal celebrated something called FOSCO over the last 2 weeks. The Keur Samba Gueye community was scheduled to celebrate it the weekend of the 19th, but there was a death of one of the community members, so it was therefore postponed to the weekend thereafter. FOSCO (as far as I could understand) was a 3 day event celebrating the importance of education. All of the students waited with anticipation for the days of FOSCO to arrive. Everyone in the community was involved with all of the activities! There were grand dances, plays, meals prepared in mass, health education on HIV/AIDS, free blood typing, a teachers vs. students soccer game, and lots and lots of loud music.
The English club (composed of the older students), of which I am a supervisor, decided to write and perform a play in English. They wrote the entire thing by themselves and I was SO PROUD of them! There are some very talented actors in Keur Samba Gueye (one of them being my little brother Moustapha) and made me laugh on countless occasions. They organized rehearsals and did everything practically on their own. It was absolutely awesome and the community seemed impressed as well. They also did skits in Wolof and French which were comedies that caused everyone to double up in laughter.

The opening ceremony of this event was beautiful. Practically the entire community showed up in their formal wear. One of the students made a speech thanking me specifically for being a part of the experience and helping them with English club, my father (Papa Sow, the principal of the high school) also made a few comments similar to those made by the student, at which point I asked for the parole. As I stood in front of this community of beautiful people, I got extremely choked up (of course…who would’ve guessed) and started to tear up as I thanked them all for welcoming me into their village and for becoming my family for the past 4 months. I made the speech in Wolof, and at the end I couldn’t even say what I had planned because the words got all tangled behind the knot in my throat. More than a few tears were shed and it was another one of those “beautiful moments” I keep mentioning in these blogs. As I went to sit down, people were shaking my hand and patting me on the back. (I would have loved to give them all hugs, but that’s not exactly normal here so…I sadly resisted.)

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The strangest thing happened to me the other week. It was my younger brother’s birthday (Moustapha) and I hadn’t known about it. So, quickly thinking of a makeshift gift, I rushed into my room and unzipped the outer zipper of my packpack. Shoving my hand deep into the outside pocket, I searched about for a few American coins. I felt around for the coins and pulled them out, and as I stared at them in the palm of my hand, I realized that they looked completely foreign to me. Weird, huh? Something so normal to me 7 ½ months ago now seems foreign. At that moment it hit me: maybe going back home isn’t going to be as easy as I originally assumed.

It’s amazing how fast we can adjust. How fast we can adapt. I never thought that I could feel at home in a place so far from home. Not just far geographically, but distant in terms of language and culture as well.

Suddenly these coins (a quarter, dime, nickel, and penny) represented something much larger than the American monetary system; they were symbols of home- things familiar, solid, accountable. These coins haven’t changed at all since I’ve left, but I realized that I am not the same person now as when I boarded that plane at the Washington Dulles Airport on August 28^th, 2010. I had absolutely no idea what was coming. And now here I am on the last leg of this journey. I will board that plane back to the States, again not knowing exactly what’s coming next. I graduate in December and I don’t really have any solid plans after that. And you know what? I’m ok with that. I see it as the biggest opportunity. Not to be cliché, but I feel like the world is in the palm of my hand!

This isn’t the end of an adventure, this is just the beginning. Everything I knew about the world has shifted. My previous views have been challenged in every way possible and have expanded into something more beautiful, more intense, and more complicated than I ever thought possible.

These next few weeks will fly by and before I know it, I’ll be waking up in the morning with a pillow under my head to the sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen (mom making French toast…*hint* *hint* ;) ). Then I’ll swing my legs out of bed and feel my toes in carpet where I will then make my way through the living room and over to the bathroom (inside the house) with a faucet and sink to brush my teeth and a shower in which to bathe… not to mention a TOILET that flushes and is sure to have a roll of T.P. situated nearby.

All of these simple little things that I will take in over the course of about 10 minutes will be experienced through a new looking glass. Everything that was the same before is now different. The way in which I see things is different. I’m different. What a blessing to have been able to truly “find” myself. And who knew it could happen in a sea of people a completely different shade of grey?

This is the last blog to come from Senegal. There will, however, be more to come in the future if you’re interested in keeping up with these thoughts of mine. I’m sure to travel again. In some ways, I feel that it’s just a part of my life path.

Thanks for following along and being a part of this grand adventure with me, and I’m so so SO excited to see you all when I get home.

Peace,

Ndella Sow

Keur Samba Gueye

I don’t know exactly where to start seeing as it’s been over a month since I’ve written (don’t blame me! I don’t have easy access to the internet here!), but I have to say that this place is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The people here are simply incredible, and I have no way of expressing the love that has already developed for them, especially the children in the village and my host family. As I’m writing this blog, I’m sitting in my room preparing for class. Fana is looking over my shoulder and telling me that English is “raffetul” (ra-fet-ool: not pretty). Haha she doesn’t speak English (obviously), or French for that matter, but she says really wants to go to America to work and earn money. She’s 18, married, and works as our domestique here in Keur Samba Guèye. She’s gorgeous and has quickly become one of my best friends here in Senegal. I consider her to be my sole female friend seeing as ALL of my co-workers are male and almost all the friends I made in Dakar were male. It’s amazing that we have bonded so quickly. We come from two completely different cultures and speak completely different languages. I’d say we are probably complete polar opposites in many ways, but yet we have still created an unbreakable bond. We don’t understand each other most of the time, and we both get frustrated when we want the other one to understand. There is a lot of hand gesturing that takes place (which makes us both laugh continuously). The important thing is: we both take the time to understand each other, even though it’s hard. That gives me so much hope for all of humanity on a level that is completely inexpressible in any language.

My new host family is the EXACT opposite of Maman Badji in Dakar.

First, there is Papa Abdoulaye Sow: Older man (late fifties? Early sixties?), salt and peppering hair, Santa Clause type round cheeks, broad and warm smile, a treasure chest full of knowledge, and a laugh that is contagious. He really has become a second father to me (although NO ONE compares to the real thing, love you dad!) and is always making sure that I’m comfortable here and that everything is going ok. We’ve already had many fruitful conversations and discussions about a wide variety of topics ranging from the education system here in Senegal (he’s the principal of the jr. high) to the types of crops that grow in Pine River. He’s hilarious and likes to speak VERY broken English which makes him even funnier.

Then there is Maman Fatou Sow: She has one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. For the first few weeks of living here, I thought she couldn’t speak French, but I could tell that she understood it. So we would only speak in Wolof to each other and we would laugh at all of the misunderstandings. I recently discovered that she CAN, in fact, speak French, but chooses to speak in Wolof all the time. I love that. It’s much more difficult for us to communicate sometimes, but she’s always patient with me and that’s the only way that I will really learn Wolof. I am much more comfortable speaking Wolof now than I was in Dakar, and I owe most of the credit to her and Fana. She also has a very jovial laugh and I can tell she is one of the most-loved people in the community. She has a big heart and a genuine spirit. I grew fond of her very quickly. She takes care of all of the house work (along with Fana) and sells the BEST bissap juice I’ve EVER tasted (lucky me….she gives me cups of bissap ALL the time. :) ).

Sama rakk bu gorr (my little brother ) Moustapha: 15 years old, tall, lanky, confident, and HILARIOUS. He has actually become a true younger sibling to me, which is neat because I’ve always been an only child. We have taken to lutting (loo-ting, the most popular sport here -next to soccer- which is kind of like wrestling) and we always make fun of each other. Lots of laughs. He always looks out for me in the village and is always explaining things that I don’t understand. He’s my little jangalekat (teacher).

Sama mag bu gorr (my big brother) Modou: He’s 26, 100% muscle, loves soccer (is trying to get certified to become a referee), and is very intelligent. He laughs a lot and tells me that I’m different than every other foreigner he has ever met. Haha We’ve had plenty of interesting conversations about religion and culture and he has also quickly become one of my very good friends here.

The village of Keur Samba Gueye is roughly the same size of Pine River populated at 1,275 people. The homes are mostly concrete boxes with thatched roofs surrounded by African grass fences. There are 4 main boutiques that sell salt, sugar, ataaya, mint, butter, eggs, powdered drink mixes, and other random items. There is one small market in town (8 old women who grow vegetables to sell to everyone in the village). There are plenty of creatures that roam around freely (donkeys, cows, goats, sheep, chickens, pigeons, lizards, etc.) to keep everyone company, and there are 3 wells where people go to fetch water. The home that I live in is pretty classy compared to the rest: tin roof, running water from a spigot in the front yard, a large front yard filled with animals including a baby lamb that I’ve named Bambi, and lots of pigeons (one of which I’ve taken a liking to and named Chocolate-Choco for short). There are also plenty of bugs. Big bugs, small bugs, spidery bugs, beetley bugs, hairy bugs, fast bugs, skinny bugs….bugs, bugs, bugs!

One morning around 6 AM I awoke to a weird scratching noise. It sounded quite close to my bed, so I felt around for my cell phone (which has a handy-dandy flashlight on the end, probably one of the most useful things I own), lit the flashlight and pointed it at the floor next to the head of my bed. There was a GIGANTIC African beetle that had somehow flipped itself onto its back and was trying, unsuccessfully, to roll back onto its scary hairy legs. My heart instantly started pounding faster and I took comfort in knowing I was shielded in by my mosquito net. I turned my flashlight off and tried to fall back asleep, but the beetle wouldn’t give up and I was terrified that it would reproduce in my room, so I mustered up some courage, lit my flashlight, pulled up the mosquito netting, grabbed one of my Birkenstocks and began hitting the thing. It instantly balled up and played dead. It was amazingly well-armored and there was no way my Birkenstock was going to win this battle, so I retreated back under my mosquito net and, once again, tried to fall back asleep. Again I heard the persistent scratching. By this point I was absolutely annoyed that this stupid beetle was stealing away my last precious hour of sleep. So this time, I lit up my torch, whipped up the mosquito netting and had at it again. I hit the beetle so hard that it went flying across the floor underneath the adjacent bed in my room. “Ha,” I thought, “That’ll keep you away.” I tucked in my mosquito netting for a second time and, once again, turned off my trusty flashlight. 3 seconds later, the scratching returned. “You have GOT to be kidding me.” Determined to take care of this situation once and for all, I prepared for battle. Slowly I lift my mosquito netting and shine my light onto this beetle about half the size of my fist. For a moment the butterflies in my stomach return, but I quickly suppress the fear and trudge forth toward the little monster. I lift the Birkenstock and slam it down onto the back of the beetle. I hear a slight crunch – a boost to my confidence – I lift the Birkenstock for a second time and slam it down again, this time pressing with all my might right in the crevice of the monster’s neck and body. More crunching. With one final twist of my Birkenstock, the head detaches from its body and a gross yellow puss spills from the wound. I drop the sandal and quickly drop the mosquito netting back around my foam mattress. I had won and I fell back asleep, only to awake to the dead carcass roughly 45 minutes later. It was just as disgusting as I had remembered, so I took my sturdy sandal of cork and pushed the dead creature under the adjacent bed. And there lies the carcass of the little beast. May it rest in peace. I hope all his beastly friends saw him and are too scared to ever enter my room again. And I never considered myself to be afraid of bugs…HA. That was before I ever came to another continent and didn’t know that monster bugs existed.

Moving to the village was absolutely the right decision, but it’s still really difficult sometimes. I stick out like a sore thumb, and everyone knows me by name. The walk from my home to the jr. high school is about 8 minutes long, but because of all the greeting I do along the way, it sometimes takes me a half an hour! Sometimes I feel like people just want to talk to me and be associated with me because I’m a foreigner, and they forget that I’m a human being who needs sleep and privacy. It’s exhausting!

The internship is going really well. I’m teaching English to 3 different classes composed of students ages 9-15, and I’m also teaching a class on human rights to students ages 8-11. It’s so much fun and is challenging at the same time (also the exact opposite of my internship with ONDH in Dakar). My fellow teachers are all fairly enthusiastic and well organized which makes things much more enjoyable.

Overall, I’m absolutely in love with this place and I’m learning so much every day. Most of all, this place has taught me to be patient with myself. When I think of my return to the states, I find myself sad. These people have so very little, but they are all so generous and kind. I’m not only sad about leaving, but a little bit scared to re-integrate into a society where everything is so easy and where people complain so much. (Including myself.) The comforts of home will be so nice, but at the same time, how can I express this experience to others and carry it with me without feeling so guilty about what I’ve been blessed with in life? Exactly 11 weeks from today I will be back on American soil, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Excited, sad, happy, anxious… There is a big part of me that feels like I belong in this place with these people. I feel that I can be myself without being judged in the same ways that I’m judged in the States, but home is still home. Where my family is, where my friends are, where I can communicate easily and no one asks questions when I want to take 10 minutes to sit alone in my room and listen to music.
I could probably go on for days about my experience here, but I think that’s all I can express today. Love and miss you all back home.

Peace,
Ndela

Pretty sure this quote sums up my feelings lately:

“Home is home even for those who aspire to serve wider interests and who have established their home of choice in distant regions.” –Nelson Mandela

BIG thoughts.

I feel like I’ve started off a few previous blogs with relatively the same phrase, but I must state it again at the beginning of this one: I am SO SORRY for not having been keeping up with keeping you all updated! It really has been far too long since I last posted.

Let me just begin by saying…. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I wish everyone all the best for 2011, and I do believe it shall be a grand grand year full of grand grand adventures. :)

These last few months have been quite the learning experience for me here in Senegal. I’m still situated in Dakar (which will be changing as of Monday, January 10 at which point I move to a small village just south of the small city Toubacouta called Ker Samba Gueye-pronounced “Kur som-ba gay”-…but more on that later ;)…) Before arriving here in Senegal, I was expecting to gain a fresh perspective and learn new things about culture, geography, international development, bla bla bla. But as it turns out, thus far, this learning experience has been much more on a personal level than I ever thought was possible. I've learned more about myself here than I have during my entire life: my own social tendencies, habits, perspectives, etc. Of course there is absolutely no denying that I've learned my fair share about culture, geography, and international development and will continue to do so until the second I board the plane back home...and thereafter.

I’ve learned that this experience is more about pushing my personal comfort zone (which is far more flexible than I previously thought). The experiences that have contributed to the expanding of this zone are far too many to write in just one blog or include in just one conversation. And to be completely honest, I’m kind of afraid that I won’t be able to describe it upon my return to the homeland. How do I even begin to illustrate my experience here? There are a million little things that I take in every day just by waking up and getting out of bed in the morning. (Hell, there are a million little things that I experience without even getting out of bed in the morning and they’re called cockroaches. Ew.)

I have learned that even though I stick out like a sore thumb in this society (being a white, blonde, female American whose primary language is English); I have more in common with people here than I thought I would before landing on Senegalese soil. I assumed that Senegalese people would be so much different from me on so many levels, (which is extremely true in many ways- language, values, education, etc.) but the bottom line is: we’re all just human beings. We all feel the same emotions (even though we may express them differently), we all like to laugh (even though we may laugh at different things), we can all be sarcastic (no matter what language we speak), and we are all afraid of something (mostly other people). The second I realized that we are all alike in the most basic way possible, I stopped being afraid. I stopped doubting myself. I remember when I first started learning French in Madame Lindquist’s class at good ol’ PRB high and I also remember how most of us in the class were kind of embarrassed or ashamed of even TRYING to speak with a true “French” accent. As a class, we were all semi-reluctant to repeat the alphabet with the flirtatious and beautiful French “errr” that sounds difficult to pronounce at first, but really, what were we so ashamed of? French is another language that an ENORMOUS amount of people understand. By learning a second language you can relate to SO MANY other people.

Language is like the key to a door that opens to a new world: once you understand it, you can open the door to this new cultural wonderland and start to make SO MANY new connections in addition to learning how to express yourself in a completely new way.

When I first started learning Wolof at the beginning of this adventure, I felt that same sense of apprehension when speaking. I heard what our professor was saying and I repeated it with my 9 other classmates, but at times we spoke quietly at almost inaudible levels (or maybe it was just me…) because we were afraid of screwing up. Well, excuse my French, but f*ck that! Why be so afraid of making mistakes? It’s how we learn! It wasn’t until about 2 months in, that I realized everyone here was giving me all this attention anyways for sticking out like a sore thumb, so I might as well try as hard as I can and simply chance sounding like an idiot. Native people always laugh at me in astonishment when they ask me what my name is and I respond with “Ndela.” They continue to speak in Wolof, and I continue to respond, and when I don’t know the word I want to say, I ask them, in French, how to say the word in Wolof, and then they tell me, and then I know. Sounds pretty simple huh? Well… that’s because it is. :)

Letting go of what other people think is hard, but it’s also pretty simple too. Once you can have a sense of humor about yourself, you can let go and just enjoy the situation for what it is. Things have become much easier for me since I came to that realization (and I know that it’s nothing that you all haven’t heard before, it’s just different when you actually believe in it yourself!).

I was walking down the street the other day in a semi-decent mood. The sun was shining, there weren’t too many taxis around (which means semi-silence and semi-clean air entering my respiratory system), and I was 100% healthy (yay!). I was headed to the tailor to check to see if my new dress was finished, and passed by an old woman sitting on the side of the road underneath a tree on a colorful prayer mat, by whom I always pass when I’m on my way to Lauren’s house (in Liberté 6, another section of the city of Dakar). She is handicapped and has a mouth full of gold teeth and an overwhelmingly positive energy that seems to radiate from the very center of her being. We have the exact same conversation (in Wolof) every time I pass by:
Me: Salaam Malekum (peace be with you)
Woman: Maleekum Salaam (peace be with you also)
Me: Nanga def? (how are you?)
Woman: Mangi fii rekk (I am here only.)
Me: Naka wa ker ga? (how are the people of your household?)
Woman: Nunga fa. (they are there.) ça va? (how’s it going?)
Me: ça va bien, merci! (It’s going well, thanks !) Ba bennin yoon ! (Until the next time!)
Woman: Inch'allah! (If Allah "God" wills it!)

About two seconds after this conversation, another old woman sitting on a prayer mat started laughing hysterically at my ability to speak Wolof. She asked me where I lived and what my name was and how the people of my house were…and of course I responded to all of it in Wolof. She continued to laugh hysterically, so naturally I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically with her. As I continued on my way, I started to realize how funny I must actually look…some white blonde girl who can speak *some* Wolof. To an older Senegalese woman who has probably experienced some seriously intense things in her life, I would seem hilarious.

Anyhoo, enough about language… More about moving to Ker Samba Gueye! At the end of last semester, I was kind of having an internal struggle about what I wanted to do this semester for my internship and where I wanted to live. I did know, however, what I wasn’t interested in doing…and that would be sitting in an office writing worthless reports on other reports that were written by people who were already extremely in tune with the issues regarding human rights... (*cough* last semester when working for ONDH *cough*). I want to do something active! Be involved! Talking to new people every day! About things that MATTER! (ok…I think you can pick up on my enthusiasm by this point…)

SO. I decided that I want to live in a small village and teach about children’s rights in Senegal to children here in Senegal! (For those of you who have the thought: “why would she want to put herself living without running water or electricity for 4 months?!”… the answer is simple: millions of people across the world live in these kinds of conditions every day, why WOULDN’T I want to have that kind of experience?!) I will be living with a new family in the village and I will be teaching children ages 11-13 about the Declaration of Human Rights as well as what the laws are in the Senegalese constitution regarding children and their rights. I may also be teaching an environmental class and an English class… but we’ll see… It’ll kind of depend on the size of the school and what the principal wants to include in the curriculum. All I know is that I’m crazy excited for this new adventure and I really feel passionate about it! What better way to improve human rights than to teach about them? If this new generation in this village grows up learning about their rights as people, they will not only be able to instill this knowledge in their everyday lives, but also be able to pass this knowledge on to future generations. I realize that I am only one person, and I will only be working in one village for 4 months, but then I got to thinking even more…

Maybe I’ll create my own privately funded organization for the promotion and education of human rights in schools in the “developing world.” Maybe someday I’ll be able to raise enough money to start my OWN organization that doesn’t answer to the government or any other NGO (Non-Governmental Organization)! Seeing as that’s probably a ways off in the future, I’ve decided to begin my own research project on the Reinforcement of Children’s Rights here in Senegal and the population’s perceptions of what the rights of children actually are (according to the constitution of Senegal and the Declaration of Human Rights). I will be conducting various interviews with all kinds of people of all ages, both male and female, to gain a true perspective on how Senegalese citizens actually view their own rights and the rights of their children. This will of course be very difficult (given I only have 4 more months here and traveling is complicated seeing as it takes LOTS of time due to the state of the roads, not to mention I’ll have this new internship).
Of course, I have to funnel all my ideas down and spit them out on paper into a clear, concise plan, but at the end of this experience I’ll have a hardcore 60-80 page badass research project to show for myself! (And for all y’all who think I’m crazy for putting myself through this much work, it’s not exactly because I just decided to create a research project in my spare time… it IS part of the curriculum for this academic program…) :)

I’m just feeling so content with all of my decisions right now and that I ABSOLUTELY made the right decision by deciding to be abroad here for the year instead of the semester. I feel like I have finally gotten comfortable here and can actually initiate being an ACTIVE PARTICPANT in this culture instead of standing on the sidelines and simply OBSERVING everything that’s going on here.

I continue to feel blessed in so many ways. The human race is an amazing thing and I can’t help but feel eager to partake in all possibilities and opportunities that are sitting right in front of me. We all have the opportunity to be part of something larger than ourselves, and, in my opinion, it’s our duty to be.

Go explore! Go learn! Go travel! Go create! Go DO SOMETHING.

Ok, I’ll stop sounding like some cheesy “life coach” now. I think that’s about all I can spit out for today.

I PROMISE I'll post another blog later this week about some of the major Senegalese events experienced in the last month. :)

Until then,
Peace,
Ndela

!!!Begué!!!

Well, tomorrow is the biggest Muslim holiday of the year and almost everyone is leaving Dakar. It's called Tabaski, and I know nothing about it except for the fact that it has something to do with the lunar calendar and that people eat goats to celebrate.

I'm not exactly sure how to explain this, so let me put it this way: One night I went to sleep and the next morning I awoke to the sound of a goat (which is pronounced "beggayyyy" in Frolof-french/wolof combo-kind of like how we say "moo" for a cow...). I stepped outside and began to make my way over to Liberte 6 (a section of the city of Dakar) when the sounds of goats became louder and louder. I reached the main highway and *TADA* saw lots of goats. EVERYWHERE. Goats. Goats. Goats. They were tethered to small metal hooks that had been pounded into the ground and they covered every square inch of space. I literally had to quick prance between 2 of them in order to cross the highway. This mysterious goat phenomenon has not only happened near Liberte 6, but all over the city of Dakar: at the main bus terminal, near the markets, down the street, in trunks of taxis, on push wheely carts, in the courtyards of homes... Like I said...EVERYWHERE.

So needless to say, goats and I have developed a love hate relationship. They're kind of cool looking, but smell horrendous. They're kind of funny sounding, but never SHUT UP. I hear they're kind of delicious, but do they really have to be in the city for so long before they're all slaughtered and eaten? I can't remember the exact date that they began to pop up all over the city, but it was awhile ago. I'm very excited for the silence of Thursday morning. Maybe that's kind of morbid of me...because all of the goats will be dead and eaten, but you know....that's life.

Anyhoo...moving on...
I got sick again. It was HORRIBLE and MISERABLE. But I'm all better now, so I won't really focus on that too much since ya'll heard about my sick experience last time. The thing I will say about my sickly experience: I can't believe the health care system here. Example: I went to the doctor and explained my symptoms. The doctor then took my blood pressure and weighed me and proceeded to prescribe 4 different medications to be taken over the course of 5 days. He didn't even take my temperature! Say what?! So I just took the meds and now I'm better, but seriously. I could have had malaria.

I experienced quite the bout of homesickness during my sickly days. Mostly I just wanted to get better and sleep, but according to the entire Senegalese population the cause of every illness is the "la chaleur" (the heat) and the solution to every illness is to LEKKAL BU BAAX (eat lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots...of food). That food mainly consists of onions, rice, and red meat in my household and when I'm nauseous all the time, that isn't necessarily the most appealing thing in the world. Needless to say, I miss good food. The #1 thing on the list of foods that I want (today) is a garden salad with bleu cheese dressing and french on the side from Red Lobster with a basket of those deliciously cheesy herb biscuits followed by a trip to Olive Garden for the 3 cheese manicotti drenched in alfredo sauce and topped with fresh parmesan cheese. I think I die a little inside every time I think of it. So to save my own life, I'm going to move on from the topic of food...

My internship is going pretty well. I'm learning tons and speaking French constantly which is nice, but generally I feel pretty worthless. They have me reading reports and writing reports on the reports in order to build my base of knowledge which is cool and absolutely necessary, but I'm only at this internship for 6 weeks... so it's kind of sad knowing that I may not get to actually see any action. But maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to continue with this internship and work in a small village next semester with this same organization. We'll see. I'll keep you posted as I know more. :)


Bonne journée à tout. Miss you all lots.

Peace,
Ndela

Brain=Mush=No cool title.

So…new development on the internship front since my last post:
Literally, the day after I posted the “Senegal, a slap in the face?” blog, I went to talk to Waly about my internship to figure out the details of what exactly I was going to be doing working for l’Association Juristes Sengelaises and where it is located in the city of Dakar and all that jazz. Here’s the situation:

Waly, inside his FREEZING COLD air conditioned office typing away on his computer.

Me, *tap* *tap* *tap* on office door.
Waly: “Oui, entrez” (“yes, come on in”)
Me: So… about my internship…Where exactly is it in Dakar? Am I going to be staying with the same family?
Waly: Um…about that… you actually aren’t going to work for AJS anymore. The intern that is there now isn’t going to leave, so there isn’t a position for you anymore. I’m working on figuring something else out for you, so I’ll let you know how things end up.
Me: Oh, ok. Well I’ll talk to you soon then?
Waly: Yes, I’m working very hard to make something else happen.
Me: Thanks.
…and…… scene.

So basically what happened was I ended up having to fill out a hardcore application for this internship (in French, obviously) at ONDH (l’Organisation Nationale des Droits de l’Homme – National Organization for Human Rights) and I had an interview last week, and I started Monday. So far, it’s been paperwork and lots of reading. I had to read a few really long documents in French, and then write up small presentations on each one (in French…I’m just going to stop saying in French, and you can just assume everything is in French because it is…which is turning my brain into mush) to present on Tuesday to my supervisor. Basically my brain was exhausted by the end of the day Tuesday. It’s nice to be surrounded by French all the time though, as compared to being at WARC with a bunch of other Americans speaking English all the time (no offense guys, you know I love you). Anyhoo… I’ll keep all y’all updated on that situation.

Yesterday I worked with another intern translating English documents into French. That was pretty cool actually… it made my brain work in reverse since I’m usually always translating everything from French into English. Working with Saphie (the other intern) was super fun, we had lots of laughs and it was a great experience since she is completely fluent in French and I’m completely fluent in English, we were able to work together to make the translations a total success. COOL.

In the beginning, I was a little disappointed to find out that I’d be working in an office, when what I really wanted was to be working with a local organization interacting with local people on a day-to-day basis, whereas this is more… shall we say “corporate.” But that’s ok, I’m sure it’ll work out just fine…not to mention it’s a pretty cool resume builder. ;) And if I don’t like it, I can do something else after 6 weeks when the semester ends. I think it’s also good to experience human rights work from both sides: in the office, and doing local fieldwork…so hopefully next semester I’ll have the opportunity to do something on a more local level.

Things at home have been great! My mother's niece (Binette) who had a baby just about a month ago is staying with us with the baby (whose name is Sidy Mohammed). He's absolutely adorable and a joy to have around. Binette and all of her friends call me "tata" (which is like "auntie" in English) and is a total term of endearment. I love that! Binette will just walk into the living room and plop baby Sidy into my arms and she'll just go about doing her own business. Mothers fling their children all over the place here whereas in the U.S. babies are little delicate things that aren't to be touched by anyone but the parents or by close friends with supervision. They also hand their children off to strangers if they need to be free of them for a few minutes to perform a simple task. It's awesome! There is so much fear in the U.S... fear that bad things will happen to the ones we love most. Maybe that's what perpetuates all the bad things? Who knows. It sure is interesting to compare and contrast the two places, and I feel quite blessed to live in a society that operates more out of trust than out of fear.

I've kind of been slacking on the quote front...so here's one for today:
"Trust men and they will be true to you; treat them greatly and they will show themselves great."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Senegal, a slap in the face?

Wooops!

It's been SO LONG since I've last blogged. I keep putting it off, but if I put it off any longer, I'll forget all of the wonderful things that have happened.

First off: I went to Toubacouta! Toubacouta is a smaller village located just a bit north of the Gambia. Our entire group went a few weekends ago to see what life outside the city is like. So, early one Thursday morning, we all piled onto an air conditioned bus to head to Tamba (a nickname for Toubacouta). About 5 minutes into our journey (after all of our packs were loaded onto the top of the bus and 50 bajillion bottles of water were packed underneath our seats and in between our feet) we find out that we have to switch buses because ours is apparently broken... c'est la vie au Senegal. We change buses and some really nice really strong Senegalese men transported our baggage from one bus to another and we were on our way. I put my headphones in and stare out the window as we start to leave the city. I hadn't really experienced any sort of strong sense of culture shock upon my entry to Senegal, but leaving the city definitely allowed for a bit of it to settle in. Outside of Dakar, things are so much less developed. Little electricity, little huts with thatch roofs for homes, no running water... etc. I found it so ironic that we are here to learn about development from the perspective of the developing country and yet were traveling in an air conditioned bus viewing the developing country literally from behind a window. Did I mention that we also stayed in an amazingly beautiful hotel with really great food, air conditioned huts, heated water, and a pool? Hmm... not exactly what I was expecting, that's for sure. I continue to be so thankful for all the things I have at home and how I've taken so many things for granted.

Even though we lived like true Americans during our stay in Tamba, we were able to see many of the neighboring villages and certain traditional activities (such as la lutte-a very physical type of wrestling/dance display and the most popular sport in Senegal, and a traditional dance troupe). My favorite excursion was taking a little side-trip to a very small village outside of Tamba. The community was entirely composed of thatched roofed homes and had no running water or electricity (that I could see). The entire community set chairs up for our group in a circle and the elders sat on a mat on the dirt in the middle of the circle, while the children were on the periphery behind us (talking and giggling in Wolof and staring at all of us toubabs). The chief elder of the community warmly welcomed us (multiple times) and handed the floor over to the main educater of the town to talk about issues in the village and other various aspects of life in the village. He then asked us questions about our experiences. It was one of the coolest, most enriching experiences of my life and it didn't even last 2 hours. Many members of the community participated in sharing opinions (both women and men). I felt blessed to be part of something bigger than myself. At the end of the discussion, a group of women began to play their instruments (which consisted of various different sizes of plastic and metal bowls and other utensils used to beat the bowls as makeshift drumsticks) The women began dancing and pulled us all up to dance with them. It was such an amazing experience and brought tears to my eyes.

It's so cool that people can be from completely different places in completely different parts of the world, and still have some sense of mutual respect and interest in each other. BEAUTIFUL.

Alright, so you're all probably wondering about the title of this blog, right? Well here's an interesting story....

Wednesday this last week, I was walking to school. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining and I was ready for all my classes that day. I wasn't feeling my best, but wasn't feeling my worst either. I was just meandering along down one of the most busy places in Liberte 3 (a section of the city of Dakar), minding my own business thinking about how much I've come to LOATHE white bread (we eat it ALL the time) when all of a sudden **WHAM** a man had come up behind me and hit me across the right side of my face. I began to tumble to the ground, when an older man wearing all white caught me and pushed me aside. The man who physically assaulted me began to yell at me in Wolof. I immediately started balling, seeing as my face was throbbing and I had no idea why this man had hit me. The man who helped me looked at me and directed me to keep walking and go away. I zig-zagged over to a resting spot and stopped to call a friend who lives nearby. I was in a complete state of shock. For those of you who know me: you know I'm the least violent person on the planet and have never been in any kind of a fight or hit anyone out of more than jest, so you can imagine what kind of state I was in at this point. Immediately there was a huge group of Senegalese people surrounding me asking all kinds of questions, but I was on the phone trying to describe to my friend where I was. I eventually hung up the phone and the main who originally helped me came over and asked if I was ok. I was hysterical, I couldn't even get a full phrase out of my mouth. He asked me what I had done and I explained (through hiccups and very broken French) what had happened. He explained that the man was simply crazy and then proceeded to ask where I was going. The concerned group of people was still surrounding me and were all eager to help. I told him I was headed to school and almost everyone offered to accompany me there, for if I were to continue alone, the crazy man was sure to re-approach me. I told them that I was just going to wait for my friend and then take a taxi. A group of women took me and brought me to a nearby home and sat me down once inside the door. I was still crying and couldn't really talk to anyone. Then one woman sat down next to me and hugged me...which made me cry even more because it was such a nice and comforting gesture. My friend finally showed up and we headed to school.

I'm totally fine, and my face is fine as well. My eye was red for awhile and a little swollen, but nothing serious. I just never thought that anything like that could or would ever happen to me! There was absolutely nothing the police could do because there are so many crazy people here that have nowhere to go. Sometimes they are admitted to a hospital in the area, but apparently they escape a lot. I've also noticed that the police don't really have a whole lot of power here... it's so much different than the States, I don't even know how to describe it.

I've tried not to let the incident keep me from doing the things I want to do. I think the scariest part is knowing that I can't blend in. No matter what I do I will still be a white blond female in a sea of beautiful black Africans. Especially here in Dakar. I will always be a Toubab that taxis honk at and men hit on. I'm very excited to move to a village in January and be on a more personal level with more people. I'll be like a shiny new toy for about a week until everyone knows me and then I'll just be Ndela whereas here in Dakar I'm always that white Toubab who has endless amounts of money to spend on everything on the planet and wants every black man to be her husband. **oozing sarcasm**

My mother and home life have been absolutely wonderful. :) I love her more and more everyday and don't know what I'd do without her.

Classes are done next Friday and then we all start our internships! I'm very excited to not have to be at WARC all the time. It will definitely be a nice change of pace. Crazy thought: I won't have another real class until next September when I'm back at the U! How excitinggggg.

...and I don't think I've talked at all about my internship! I'll be working with the organization called l'Association Juristes Seneglaises in the branch working for women's rights! More specifically: working in a battered women's shelter helping women and their children with whatever they need. I think it'll be a heart-wrenching experience for sure, but I'm excited to work in a local shelter as well as understanding and working on the more solid written laws and rights of women.

Alright, sorry to end so soon, but gotta run.

Peace,
Ndela

Bucket Baths and Lots of Laughs

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