African Beauty

 A building with a mural at the training center in Thies, Senegal

 Rupert The Training Center Kitty

 The Beach the first week of Community Based Training (CBT)

 My Bedroom, mosquito net and all

 Kadi and Isatu, some of my younger siblings

 Isatu, the youngest sibling until a baby was born to my mother the last sunday I was at site.

 Amadoo Mangung, Seri Sane son. This pretty much describes his personality

 Awa, the one who went missing, classic pose

 Sophie with Papa on her back.

 Everyone has favorites. These are mine. Seri and Anna

 Fatu, another favorite, she is severally mentally handicapped and such a wonderful girl to have lived with

 Washing horses in the ocean to heal wounds.

 Me and Isatu, my name is Isatu as well...soo 2 Isatu's

Mamadoo Sanko, a little terror but adorable

April's Fool

First, I must admit that I am much lazier about blogging than I thought I would be. Partly due to the limited access of internet, but also I have find myself so consumed with my two new families- the Senegalese and the Peace Corps. But I owe it both to myself and to all of you back home to share some of what has been happening on the other side of the Atlantic. I have now been ‘in country’ for almost a month. There are many things that I feel I must share- like the recent successful democratic change of power here in Senegal (story to come). But today was a remarkable and typical day- rolled into one and it deserves to be shared.

Today is the first of April, April fool’s day known to many, Palm Sunday to more. (well in America) I find that I forget many of the ‘holidays’ that used to matter. St. Patrick’s Day was observed 3 days after it happened, perhaps that’s due to the mandatory limited accessibility to the ‘beverages’ that are commonly consumed or that Africa has begun to infiltrate me to the point I’ve forgotten my second favorite holiday.

Per usual, I woke up at 5am to the daily call to prayer, which can be described somewhere on the spectrum of a societies awe-inspiring dedication to their religion and a dying cat, the fact that its being blasted on the world’s worst PA systems is an added benefit.  When I first got to Senegal, I had a lot of trouble sleeping through it. Now, I wake up and within 30 minutes have fallen asleep again. Around seven, I crawled out from under my mosquito net, grabbed my pail of water and headed from the cement hole. Stopping at the water tap on the way back to my room, I greeted my grandmother “I sama, I sinotta baacke” “good morning, did you sleep well?” She answered honestly, which is rare for the culture, as everything is answered in the positive, even if it’s not true. For example, one could be on deaths door, but when asked if they are getting better, they will answer yes, I am getting better. She said that she had not slept, that my ‘sister’ Fatimata had given birth to her baby early in the morning. They took me into her room to see her, she was lying on the bed and immediately handed me the baby girl. The father was sitting on a mat on the floor, brewing Attayaa, the international ‘green’ tea with about a 2:1 ratio of sugar; 2 being sugar. They will have a naming ceremony in 7 days, so the baby has no name yet, but she’s beautiful and perfect. It was obvious to me that she had the baby at home, and either she has a high pain tolerance or I can sleep through anything because I didn’t hear a peep and she is in the room next to mine, and the walls are thin here. They said she had had her baby around 4am, by 8am she was in the courtyard washing laundry- by hand. I haven’t had that much exposure to women and labor, but I doubt that mom’s in America would be doing laundry 4 hours after a home deliver.

I traveled to my second compound, where I eat and socialize. There I had breakfast, half a loaf of French bread with lettuce, eggs, onions, and MAYO. This is not typical; most trainees have just bread with maybe butter or African Nutela. I worked to have my breakfast changed from oil/butter to eggs, not an easy thing when you can’t say any of those things in Mandinka (the language I am learning).  I told my family I was going to the beach and would be eating lunch there. I met up with several fellow trainees and we walked a few ‘blocks’ over to meet up with some other trainees. From there we walked to the beach. The walk can be described as SAND, M’bour is a town in the middle of a beach, TOUBAB BONJOUR (HI WESTERNER). I don’t do the walk justice, to emphasis; every single person under 14 is yelling TOUBAB BONJOUR at us. We are of course making a huge spectacle of ourselves; I mean how often does one see 10 westerns together.

The beach is beautiful and presents us all with a much needed/long overdue mental health day. We are typical Americans, lying on blankets, listening to music, enjoying the surf, sand, and sun. We swim and enjoy the fact at our whole bodies are wet all at the same time (unlike bucket bathes). A few of us leave early to find a restaurant for lunch. The place we had in mind is closed on Sundays. So we walked about a mile back to the beach to a different restaurant. We stopped at most places along the way trying to find someplace open. But there were slim choices. One place had rotting meat, and we left quite quickly.

It was worth the wait, walk, and onset of ‘mungry’ mad&hungry. I had roast chicken with onion sauce on it, with double fried French fries. Plus MAYO & Ketchup. It was nowhere near the standard sized American plate, but I ate the whole thing and am still not hungry closed to midnight. I guess that’s what happens when one hasn’t had much in the way to protein in a week and a half. Lunch was more ‘beautiful’ than the beach. I had a relationship with my chicken. For dessert, we all shared a chocolate crepe. Simply, it was heaven.

Walking back a young boy threw a rock at me, he failed but I turned around and pointed at him and asked him if he was serious, in English of course, he ran away but knew I was in the right to beat him. Beating is a common and accepted practice in this society. Men beat women, women beat kids, kids beat kids, and it repeats in a cyclical fashion. If at least one member of the family isn’t shedding tears, find the nearest person and give’em a good smack.

I came home to discover that one of my younger sisters, Awa had been missing since breakfast time. She finally showed up around 9pm and would not say where she had been. She was beaten by her father and grandmother; in a more sever way than anything I have heard of being used in the US. She was sent to bed without food.

I am glad Awa showed up. As an American, my first thought of a 13 year old girl going missing is abduction. They seemed to be more mad than worried, knowing that she had just run off somewhere than been taken. I talked with Seri, Anna, and Willie (a few of my sisters) at dinner about beating children, Seri has a 2 year old (Ammadoo) and Anna has a 2 month old (Papa). Both of them said that they use communication instead of physical force.  It’s nice to hear that society is changing a little, but I doubt that their husbands will follow their wishes. The next day I witnessed that my doubts were correct.

Dinner was my favorite, lettuce with grilled fish, onion sauce, and French fries. We eat from one large metal bowl, while sitting on a mat on the floor. Depending on the meal, I get a spoon to use or use my right hand to eat. Before coming here, I had thought the use of the right hand for all but one activity was a leftover from tribal times. It’s not.

Passing out after a day like this is really easy even in the midst of screaming wives, crying children, the soothing noise of mono being made, and the constant crackle of Quranic verses being broadcast.  

Be a washer not a wiper

I am here! Here is Thies, pronounced "chess," Senegal, West Africa. It's about a 2 hours drive from Dakar, the capital...if the traffic is good. The country is beautiful, the people are beautiful. We've been at the 'compound' for 6 days now. And by compound, I mean a gated/walled community that was given to the PC after the French Government lost imperialistic control over Senegal. The most popular languages that are spoken here are, French and Wolof. But there are several others, so many that it is hard to keep them straight. I am learning Mandinka, the most common language in The Gambia. It is sing songy, something between Spanish and Chinese, and yes Mom all letters of a word are pronounced so I can actually have a good chance at successfully learning it. My "CLF" or culture language facilitators name is Bakary Camera, he is Mandinka and perfect for my learning style. On Wednesday afternoon, myself and 3 other trainees move to Mbour to begin our CBT, or community based training. In Mbour, I will live in a Senegalese family and practice integrating into the culture and learning the language. We shift between our CBT and the compound for the next few weeks, coming back to the training center to digest what our experiences are and learn more tools to help ourselves and our communities. The Gambian trainess will be heading to Gambia on the 11th of April. Where we will be living with different host families for 4 weeks.

I am very excited for this whole experience, trying to take in every moment but never having enough time in the day to do all I want to do. Everyone here is wonderful and I am so honored to be living this adventure with such an amazing group of people. For a deep thought- I am learning more about myself then I have so far learned about the Senegalese or Gambian culture.



Brief overview (like the first 3 hours): We flew into Dakar and were safely guided to the PC vehicles by current PCVs that speak the local languages and tell people to 'back off.' There was a 'potty' talk almost as soon as we got off the plane, or at least it seemed that way. The days blend together, but that might also be the lack of sleep between the train that rolls passed the compound or the all night religious ceremonies So potty talk- be a washer not a wiper. And if we wipe then we are only supposed to use 4 squares of toilet paper. Also, if your planning on coming to West Africa or traveling to any country that does not use western toilets I highly suggest practicing your squat. Start taking yoga now.

More to follow, I must sleep too tired. Oh, i'm taking Methlaquine, a malaria prophylaxis, of which common side effects are vivid dreams or waking delusions. Those should be fun- blog readers get excited for some wild stories. At least I'm protected against Malaria.

Ready or not, Set, Go

It's here, time for staging. Got the providence airport to fly to DC at 5am, after several hugs and kisses to my "entourage" I passes through security to a world of unknown and excitement. The original flight had several mechanical issues and was cancelled. I'm now scheduled to leave at 9:30. I'm using the time to download books, stalk Facebook heavily, talk to parents and Evan, and people watch. Norms of life that will soon become luxuries. On the people watching status, in the past 30 minutes, 13 business men have paid $7 to have their expensive Italian leather shoes shined, many have paid extra to have their leather briefcases polished plus tip. I won't comment. (make that 15)

Backtracking: thes past few months I have been showered in love and support from my friends and family. I can not express the enveloping sense of security that I have been wrapped in. As hard as it has been to say "see you later" I know that I will see you in 27 months. Thank you for being there and opening yourselves up to my adventure. I love you all.

The Waiting

Three months from today, I will be on a plane to staging then 2 days later a plane to Dakar, Senegal!! absolutely crazyyyy! Many people have been asking me how I am feeling about this new path my life is about to take. I heard one girl now in the pc describe the period of waiting as ...hovering above a state of absolute panic. I would agree but also add in a sprinkle of bipolarity. One minute, I will be looking forward to everything that is about to happen, the thrill of exploring my new home, new country, meeting new people, the challenges of learning new languages, basically the newness of everything. Yet in the same minute, i'll think hollllly jhesuss what did I do??!?!? I'm going to live in AFRICA for 2+ years whattttttt.....leaving my friends, family, loved ones behind, everything familiar about the US. I'm hoping this is a normal transition of feeling panicked and blissful at the same time. I'm already taking extreme pleasure in the luxuries of life here, like a washing machine and dryer, dish washer, shower, running water, a working toilet, paved roads, stop lights, cars, microwaves......whoever invented these was brilliant..thanks! I'm loving foood, for thanksgiving, I ate so much, I was in pain lying on the couch for hours..had to wait to have pie till near midnight.

Since the departure time was extended, I've been staying very busy. Still working at the farm, no longer weeding but things still need to get done. Interning with a vet once a week to learn more about animals, their natures', how to care for them, signs of disease, interacting with the farmers, its a very interesting exposure to say the least, and I'm loving it. I'll start working at a ski mountain as a skiing instructor, once mother nature gives us some snow. Hosting and busing at a restaurant as well. And, of course, spending some quality time with friends and family.

In the holiday spirit, I'd like to offer some thoughts on the amount of wealth that we all have in our lives, whether it is material or emotional.  I have found myself wishing for less material, maybe its through my purge of material items to get ready for the PC, but instead of giving material this year think of simply being with your loved ones or donating to a local food pantry, Heifer International, cancer research, UNITED WAY, OXFAM, or the thousands of other organizations helping others. I promise you will feel 'cleaner' and lighter.

Justtt Kidding....

I received a call the other day from The Gambia desk. Just when I thought that everything was set, more changes came my way. I guess that is lesson 933 in this adventure, that hasn't officially begun yet. The new changes, instead of going to Banjul, The Gambia (the capital) for 3 months of training starting January 4, 2012, I will now be traveling from staging, in a US city, to Dakar, Senegal, the "Paris of Africa" for training. Due to the infamous budget changes and ideas of combining the training in The Gambia and Senegal, the PC made this decision in the midst of inviting the newest Gambian class. There will be 18 of us in the 2012 Gambia class, 13 of which had already been invited, so lucky number 13 got to hear about these changes after they had already accepted the offer to serve. The 5 left to be invited will have this plan from the beginning. Also, my leave date has been changed to March 6, 2012 because of the change in location. We will be joining the 2012 Senegal class in Dakar for training. After talking to the Gambia desk staff, about the changes, I feel more comfortable then I did when I first learned of them. Apparently, the training facilities in Senegal are excellent and I was reassured that the PC wouldn't make this change without thinking this would be the best way to prepare us for our 2 years. Of course, I had my reservations in the beginning, it's not easy to because fixed on January 4th in Gambia, and have it all up rooted. But the great point was made that the boarder between Senegal and The Gambia is just a political, internationally recognized one, often cultures, customs, languages, social behaviors are similar between countries around the world. Although, I have done some background research on The Gambia and Senegal and have found many difference, I just have to have believe that the PC wouldn't put us into a country under-trained. This is the last change, hopefully, but with the PC you always have to be flexible. So final story as of right now, March 6th to Dakar, Senegal for 3 months of training and then to a village in The Gambia for 2 years. 

   

Senegal and The Gambia

                                             

Farm Oasis

Many if not all Peace Corps 'extension' programs ask that a nominee continue to gain experience in whatever field they were nominated for before gaining an official invitation. For me that was at least three months of exposure in an agriculture related field (greenhouse, farming, gardening, forestry, beekeeping, ect.). I graduated from college on May 27th and miraculously the next week started a job at a local organic farm. I describe it as miraculous because I could not have self-designed a better learning, working, thriving, exposure to everything I could have ever dreamed of environment. And it really did fall into my lap.

The farm is certified organic with over 40+ vegetables with many different varieties of each of those types, 10+ different fruits, 15+ herbs, a whole host of critters running around...chickens of all types, alpaca and pygmy goats, cats, and dogs. I could call this my dirtiest summer yet because there was not one day when I came home clean. Tasks ranged from planting, weeding, picking, plotting, trimming, arranging, weeding again for the produce, shearing the goats, trimming hooves, washing and dyeing yarn made from a mixture of mohair and wool, canning jams, cleaning barns, professional goat and chicken catcher, and yes butchering chickens.

Rows of Tomatoes & Bean 

                                                                          Watermelons!!

Sally and Art, the people who make it all happen at the farm, have taught me everything I know about farming and I can't even begin to tell them all that they have done for me this summer. Sally has taught me how to love soil, to love having dirt under my fingernails, to marvel at the small changes in plant growth, to live at a slower and more appreciated pace, to understand the body's craving for colors and nutrition from our food, to appreciate the work we can do and forgive ourselves for the work that doesn't happen, she has taught me the beauty and importance of lunch, and to laugh about the little things. Art has taught me to completely clean a chicken, which in this era is a purposely forgotten life-skill making us vulnerable to large scale chicken industries. He has taught me how to laugh at myself and be critical and analyse topics I once took for granted, to see a gorgeous huge sweet pepper or sweet potato and say "holy shitt would you look at that beauty....isn't that a beauty..."    Haley and Mark have been such pleasures to work with, whether its "diving" into a weed patch with Haley or digging a whole row of potatoes and getting barely a pound with Mark.  Its been a truly amazing summer/fall and I wish it didn't have to end for there is much left to learn.

Patchenheimer/Patchy/Hapatchy, the farm's terror kitten 

                                                              aahh, pretty swiss chard

                                                                  Eat & Buy Local!