Smokey Bear would not be proud, but my Dad might be

I always try to be open-minded in the village.
Someone tells me we're going to the bush and I say, "Why, yes, I'll go!" And I don't really ask questions.

So I didn't ask questions when Ouly asked me if I wanted to go to the bush yesterday. I saw Ouly grab a rake and watched her take a few pieces of millet stalk out of the fence. Fanne didn't bring anything along (other than her 9 month old daughter tied to her back).

We walked about 2 kilometers out into the "bush", really to the women's wet-season garden area. Enjoying the late afternoon. A nice stiff breeze cooling us down as we walked and had a good cultural exchange: A Wolof passer-by says "jerejef" to the worker in the field, the worker responds "jamm rekk". A Pulaar du Nord passer-by says "adjarama" to the worker in the field, the worker responds (ooops...I wasn't paying attention well, I forget their response, it is, however, not "jam tan" which would be the logical response). And, yep, that's right, folks, we Americans don't say "thank you!" to the worker in the field. Ever. Nope. We never show our gratitude toward farmers. And a farmer seldom feels inclined towards thinking "peace only" while in the field. Ouly and Fanne are completely confused that we don't automatically yell "Thank you!" when we see a farmer at work in America.

So. What was our mission? What were we going to do on this breezy afternoon? Oh. Right. Burn a bunch of thorns.

We could have been doing anything... using a rake to knock random fruits out of a tree, clearing a field, preparing a garden bed... And we did not have a 5 gallon bucket of water or a shovel. Which I have always been taught is needed before stricking a match. Thankfully, we were burning dead thorns about 2 weeks after other people have. Which means that there was green grass surrounding everything. Still. Stiff wind. Ouly breaks up some of the millet stalks to have some tinder. Fanne takes off her head wrap for me to hold as a wind break while she strikes a match.

Soon, I realize that my short-lived anxieties were purely that. The thorns are creating a bramble that flames cannot reach. The wind is pushing the fire away from the brush and into the grass, where it is promptly dying. The problem is not the potential of a massive burn, but running out of matches! I found myself wishing for a quart of fuel to toss on the thing.

I start working with the situation. Gathering up some dead grass and leaves to coax the fire on the north side since the wind was coming from the south. Finding some sticks, rearranging the brambles. Vaguely saying "uh huh" to the "Thorns hurt!" "It is hot!" "Maybe you should sit in the shade" "Careful!" comments coming my way. Soon, my little fire is gaining ground (so to speak) and I am quietly bringing large branches of thorns over to feed my fire. The fuzzy voice that I've been zoning out says, "Ouly Cisse, she can burn things!"

I'd forgotten what it felt like, hearing someone tell you you CAN do something. I've gotten pretty used to not being able to speak Wolof, not being able to eat with my hand, not being able to farm, not being able work in the sun....you name it, I'm told that I can't do it.

And I got to explain why it is that I can burn things. How did I acquire this amazing knowledge?

I sat back, felt my eyebrows to make sure they were still there, and I was reminded of a time that seems not so very long ago. When it was me and a couple of my pyromaniac sisters traipsing through the little horse pasture setting rose bushes on fire.

It felt that good. Life is good. Pyromaniacy is good.

Sheep go to Heaven, Goats go to .....

I put a great mix on my iPod the other day. It was fabulous. And then I changed it when I came in to Kaolack. And found myself in my village with CAKE's "Sheep Go To Heaven" stuck in my head....and it was no longer on my iPod to listen to.

We eat meals outside here. On the ground. Out of a big bowl. (have I mentioned this before?)

Several times during the day, sheep are moved past our compound, or else our sheep are moved in/out (depending on the time of day). This is a time of general turmoil and chaos.


I'm not feeling alright today, I'm not feeling that great
I'm not catching on fire today, Love has started to fade
I'm not going to smile today, I'm not going to laugh
You're out living it up today, I've got dues to pay
....
Now I just want to play on my panpipes, I just want to drink me some wine
As soon as you're born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time
Sheep go to Heaven
Goats go to Hell
Sheep, go to Heaven
Goats, go to...Hell
.....

The other morning, as I'm humming, I'm not going to laugh... in my mind around the breakfast bowl, everybody else gets up from the bowl to go herd the sheep.
Feeling rather pitiful and helpless, I continue eating. Until 4 pompous sheep come traipsing past me. Trotting in and out of people's huts.
I tell myself I'm a tough Schnur girl and if there is one thing I know it is how to herd animals. (Well, not cats, I haven't perfected that one yet....give me another year or so in Senegal...)
So. I get up from the bowl and walk over and chase the sheep out of the huts they are currently inhabiting.
Where? Where did I chase them?
Funny you should ask.
Triumphantly I turned around! And saw 4 mottled heads happily convened over the breakfast bowl.
Yeah......
I'm not feeling alright today, I'm not feeling okay...
So Ouly and Fanne come back. I meet them before we get to the bowl. The (oh!) sheepish look on my face quickly being won over by uproarious laughter.
So, what did we do?
Ouly and Fanne inspected the bowl. Scooped away the places the sheep's noses made divits in the millet. And we went back to breakfast.
As soon as you're born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time.

Oh, wait.
I'm not done.

As I stood up from the breakfast bowl, the two adorable kid goats that stay in all day everyday come dancing over.
They are just so darn cute!
And they promptly wiggle themselves inside of the netting and thorns protecting a mango sapling in order to supplement their breakfast.

GOATS! Go to ....

Alhams!

(So, I was really confused because I vividly remembered writing this post...and couldn't find it online. I just found it. Written out by hand in a notebook. Voila! So. Better late than never, right?: A CHRONICLE OF A ROUND TRIP ON THE ALHAM, KAFFRINE/KAOLACK.)

Alhamdulillah: Arabic phrase loosely translates to "Thanks be to God!"
Alhams: Undependable yet reliable (or vice versa) modes of public transport, similar to a school bus.

It is 5:39 a.m. I am awake a minute before my alarm is set to go off. I crawl out of bed as my toma knocks on my door, she is leaving early this morning to go collect firewood. I giggle to myself that she thought it necessary to wake me. While the alham can come as early as six, I have never witnessed it. I've never heard or seen the alham come through Dioly before 6:30. 5:41, I'm literally standing with one pants leg on when I hear a vehicle coming.
NO!
I speed up as I hear a honk getting closer. I'm pulling my shirt on when Ouly says, "Atcha!" outside my door (isn't that the universal "Come on, let's go!"?). I'm so happy I packed my bag last night.
ALHAMDULILLAH!
I quickly lock my door and run out of my compound. My maam-goor (grandfather) has stopped the alham.
ALHAMDULILLAH!
The morning is cool and breeze carries the scent of eucalyptus on it. The alham creeks along the rutted sandy "jeep trail" (as I would refer to it at home), laying on the horn as we bounce through villages, dodging goats, kids, women carrying water, and empty market-bound horse carts. We stop near a mosque at 6:00. It is nodd, the dawn call to prayer. Most of the passengers disembark and silently perform their ablutions and prayers.
We continue on our way. The woman sitting in front of me has seen my fancy plastic bracelets (they are about as fancy as one could get for a quarter out of a vending machine in America about 15 years ago). Could I give her one? Just one? She'd trade me for one of her bracelets--whould I prefer silver or gold?
NO!
I hate this. I weasel out by telling her that although she's my friend, my maam gave me me these bracelets, I couldn't give them away.
The helper comes in to collect "pass" (fare) and I give 500 CFA. Nope. Not enough. He wants another 100 CFA.
NO!
Fine, whatever. Maybe the price of gas has gone up, maybe he's charging me for my bag. Path of least resistance my friend, path of least resistance.
My friend with the bracelets does not follow the path of least resistance. It appears that the fare has increased. And no one is too happy. I'm relieved I quietly paid the extra.
ALHAMDULILLAH!
The Alham pulls in to Kaffrine at 7:40 a.m. Good time!
ALHAMDULILLAH!
I text Susan, a PCV who lives in Kaffrine, and am reassured that banana pancakes or scrambled eggs or some other wonderful breakfast food will be waiting for me across town.
ALHAMDULILLAH!!!

Now, my "bus stop" seems to be turning into a miniature "garage" (the actual public transport depot). There are now 5 Alhams waiting where I used to find an alham and a couple of charets. Alhams all look similar. White or blue. Rainbow streamers. Pictures of religious icons. Rainbow writing proclaiming "Alhamdulillah" or "Baaye Fall" or some other slightly religious phrase. Stickers of lions, Nike signs, "City Boy" and Sony are plastered to the windows.
But none of these 5 look familiar to me.
NO!
I suddenly feel like I am at the real garage as 3 men run to me to take my bags and ask me where I am going. They tell me they know it and I politely disagree.
No one knows my town. Ask 10 people and they'll each know it by a slightly different name (& will likely only know it as where the enigmatic Omar Cisse lives). I look for one of the two drivers I would recognize. Nothing.
NO!
I go back to the first man. He convincingly knew the names of the itty bitty villages next to Dioly. I load up and wait. And wait. The alham finally starts and we start out of town.
NO.
Not in a familiar direction. My heart sinks. Just as I'm starting to wonder what to do, we pull in to the Total station.
ALHAMDULILLAH!
As small gallon-sized containers are filled with gas, two familiar faces come jogging toward the alham. Omar and Samba. My counterpart and his good friend (Samba will, eventually, start teaching me Pulaar du Nord, another language).
ALHAMDULILLAH!
I'm on the right alham! Omar and Samba are just as excited to see me as I am them. It has been a full month since I've seen them, since Samba took me on an early a.m. charet ride to meet another alham.
Life only gets better as we make one of the quickest trips to Dioly ever. The alham isn't full, we make few stops. Samba, Omar, and I are the last on, even though the destination is another 13k away. And we are deposited in Dioly right in front of our compound.
ALHAMDULILLAH!

Earth Day

Sorry, my creativity is waning.

I apologize for my long absence. However, between my last post and this one, I had training until the end of February. Two weeks after that, I had another week long training. Then I hid out in Kaolack for a few days while I finalized my trip details to America. :) I flew out of Dakar at 3:30 a.m. on the 25th of March, and arrived in Durango, CO 23 hours later at 10:30 pm. And I spent the next 3 days surprising my family. (Well, except for Alexis, my oldest niece, who I had told so that she could steal some winter-appropriate clothing from her mother for me. And Esther, the bride, who caught me online just before I left Senegal.) And I spent the following two weeks in America. So I've been a little busy.

Esther's wedding was amazing fun! So was getting to go hiking and picnicing in the snow. Talking to lots of family. Catching up with some friends. It was a blast!



So now I'm back in the land of 100+ temps, harmattan winds, warm water, and sandy food. Oh, Senegal.



But. Most importantly.

Today is Earth Day. And I think that everyone reading this blog knows how un-environmentally-activistic (can I make that a word?) I am. However. It is a good reminder to start making some small changes in our lives. I am over here, trying to teach people how to live sustainably. Trying to convince them to eat the healthy millet that they grow, rather than trading it for imported polished white rice on a 5 to 2 kilo ratio. Trying to teach them to support their own needs by each having a garden.

And I think that we in America need to learn this the most.

We do not live sustainably. Period.

So, today, try to do something to change that.

Start your garden. Don't have much space? Just plant a little herb garden. Try to provide for yourself, rather than relying on WalMart to serve your needs.

Plant a tree or 20. It might not increase your economical sustainability, but it'll sure increase your ecological sustainability. And didn't you need more shade in your yard anyway? Wouldn't you like an apple tree of your own? You need something to hang a hammock from, don't you? Doesn't your future child want a treehouse?

Decrease what goes into a landfill. Take out recycling. No recycling for glass, etc in your area? Try to reuse that stuff (I know, pretty sure I was told this in 3rd grade). Or find an excuse to go to where ever it is you need to go to get to the recycling plant. Use all your kitchen scraps, paper products, and leaves (dead or alive) to make a killer compost pile. No garden to use the compost in? Put it around one of the trees you just planted in your yard, donate it to a local community garden, ask a local nursery if they have some use for it, use it for potted indoor plants, or take it over to that neighbor who's always working in their garden.

Or. You can go all out. Do the fancy energy testing stuff in your house. Make sure you dispose of old electronics in the appropriate fashion (unsure? Call Radio Shack or Best Buy, they'll help you out). It is springtime--if possible, try to start walking or biking to work. Look in to alternative energy, the little solar charger I have does an excellent job at keeping my cell phone and iPod charged. Save rainwater to water with. Don't buy bottled water.

Just do something. Anything.

We're always talking about living within our means monetarily. How about we try to live within our means ecologically? I'm not saying to make a huge lifestyle change. I'm just suggesting we make a few tweaks to be more efficient in our consumption. Keep supporting the timber industry, just plant a couple trees, too. Don't feel guilty about throwing away recyclable things, just try to reuse some of them, too.

Help me out...

I really do want to write blog posts more than once a month. The problem is, whenever I leave my village, I quit thinking of things to write about. And it is a pain to write a blog post by hand and then retype it later. (And I have limited amounts of quality paper) (And you wind up with insanely long blog posts, sorry)

What you can do:
Ask me questions! Send me emails, comment on my blog, message me on FaceBook, whatever. I will answer any and all questions on my blog. I'm sure you can think of interesting things for me to write about that I could never imagine!

With your help, I could write a couple blog entries every couple weeks! Wouldn't that be lovely!

I didn't bring my DSM IV

I didn't bring my DSM IV to Senegal, I am, therefore, unable to diagnose myself. I however, am quite sure I am obsessed. I feel confident that I fulfill the required criteria.

Food is my obsession.

I eat a lot. My last name here is Cisse. Cisses like to eat. We supposedly like to eat rice. A lot. However, I just like to eat.
My day in food:

I make myself some hot cocoa, tea and or oatmeal in the morning. At about 9:30, God willing, my toma (namesake) brings me fonde (millet porridge). When I first came to Dioly, I was horrified at the thought of eating supper's leftovers for breakfast. So my toma started buying me fonde every morning. However, the jaay-fonde* (woman who sells fonde) is on vacation. I don't know for how long. So, this morning, after my hot chocolate and oatmeal with craisins**, at 10, I get called to "breakfast". Last night's leftovers. I'll leave you in suspense re: the dish, otherwise, what will I have to say about supper tonight? However, last night, Faatu told me I'd have to eat it until it was gone. And she did her best to hold me to it--always pushing more food in front of me.
If I have something snack-able, I have a snack or a cup of tea or a handful of candy. Today, I am full of breakfast. Faatu fed me well.
At 1:30, I am called to lunch. Today it is maafe. In the loosest sense of maafe. The three women in my compound rotate the cooking duty. Today is my toma's day. However, she also woke up at 5 a.m. to go to the bush and gather firewood today. Very little time was alloted for lunch prep. The rice is dry and slightly crunchy, the sauce thin, the fish more questionable than normal. I'm suddenly very happy that I was forcefed breakfast. I choke down what I can and slowly eat until I can politely and unsuspiciously say that I am full. I eagerly anticipate a bowl of soup later. Maybe I'll make my last box of Velveeta Shells & Cheese. Instead, I eat a handful or 4 of Sour Patch Kids***
8 is supper, tonight is cere mboom. Usually, it is one of my favorites. Tonight, I find myself longing for yesterday's cere suppome. It is better than lunch, but it is not nearly as tasty as normal.

Now, there is variety to my life.
The main dishes I eat for lunch:
Ceebu jen: rice cooked in oil and boullion topped with fish. I very rarely have vegetables in my ceebu jen. However, it is normally served with carrot, cabbage, eggplant, and the senegalese vegetable jaxatu. It can also be enhanced with hot pepper, lemon, tamarind, etc. There are 2 variations: ceebu xonq (red rice) has tomatoes, ceebu weex does not.
Maafe: steamed rice topped with peanut sauce. The sauce is peanut butter (real, no sugar), onions, boullion, oil and garlic. Usually, my maafe has tomato skins (no tomato flavor, just evidence of a lost life...) and fish bones (all the fish flavor, no evidence of the rest of the fish).
Yassa: Oh! Yassa! Steamed white rice topped with an incredibly tasty onion sauce. Sometimes, served with chicken (yassa poulet). Tomatoes can be added to the yassa, creating a different dish called chou, which is pretty much spanish rice...except sooo much tastier!
Ceebu yapp: On special occasions, we have meat with our rice. Usually goat. It follows the same methods as ceebu jen. All goat parts are used.

Dishes for supper:
We always have cere (ground millet "couscous") for supper. Topped with...
Baasi: very similar to the maafe sauce. Baasi nebbi has shelled beans added to it. Baasi nadia has winter squash. Baasi suppome has cabbage. Tasty. All of them. Unless dried fish has been added to the baasi. Or, if the baasi is only baasi...no other vegetable added to it.
Noungati: is shelled beans and minced/sifted peanuts mixed together. Very tasty. I know it doesn't sound like it. But it is.
Jen: just fish. Sometimes bissap (hibiscus) is added to it. It is a sad day when this is my supper.
Mboom: Green sauce made from the leaves of the moringa tree. Usually very tasty. Imagine cooked spinach, maybe.

Everyonce in awhile we have "lazy meals". You know, the meals when you just spend 2 minutes microwaving something? They are exactly like those microwave burritos. Sometimes you have them for breakfast, sometimes for lunch. They fill you up and give you a minimal amount of nutrients. One small difference. Burritos are tasty.
Mbahall: or, as I like to call it "bah! hell." Omar (counterpart) and Cora have both taken to start calling it "baaxul" (not good). It is steamed rice mixed with ground peanuts. Sometimes there is dried or salted fish in it. Dry. Full of untastiness.
Laax buii: a thick millet porridge topped by a sweet peanut butter/baobab sauce. Really not that bad. Just doesn't feel like a real meal. More of an after school snack.
And...my most recent initiation. I forget it's name. It is basically mbahall without the fish. And with milk and sugar. Better than mbahall, but worse than laax buii.

There are also very tasty "exotic" or "native" fruits/foods. First, the familiar: papaya, guava, banana, mango, citrus. The downside of the nativity is their extreme seasonal availability. And the frustration that comes from seeing people happily munching on unripe papayas. If I lived in a city--or heck, even a town, I could buy these things occassionally on a seasonal basis. In the village, there is no chance. **** The mango trees in my village are done blooming and have set on a LOT of fruits. Crazy how they can do such a thing when there hasn't been precipitation in MONTHS.
Then there are the not-so-familiar tamarind, bissap (hibiscus), buii (baobab/monkey bread), and the unknown, simpoo, dim, etc. Tamarind, bissap, and buii are all very tasty. Tamarind makes a nice tart addition to ceeb, bissap an amazing frozen popsicle treat (alas, only where there is refrigeration), buii is tasty to eat and drink. Dim is my current favorite. Because it is in season and everyone else seems to love it, too! It is kind of like a small-not-so-tart crabapple with a big pit in it (like a chokecherry). At the right time in ripeness, they almost have a caramelly taste. The tree/bush also makes excellent live fencing (being that, like most tasty things that grow in the wild, it has nasty barbs).
And the basic staple of life. Peanuts. They are everywhere and in everything. Cabbage and onions are in most dishes. Another local item is a vegetable called jaxatu which is "bitter tomato". It is sour, hard, and has a taste similar to a green tomato. But would not be improved when battered and fried. :(

I must mention "street food". At most crossroads, bus stops, in front of most butiks^ there will be sitting a wonderful sweet lady. A pot of boiling oil in front of her. A plate full of dough to the side. This angel from heaven rolls and slices the dough, drops it into the oil and voila! Doughnut holes! Sadly, no powdered sugar or glaze, but beggars can't be choosers. Chalk one up for the French colonization of Senegal--beignets are an excellent legacy!
Dibi shops. Bring your own bread. A man has random cuts of goat, beef, or even pig. He quickly cooks up the meat with onions. Scoop up the meat and onions with the bread. Yummy!!
The most satisfying part of life in Senegal: bean shacks. I remember feeling concerned when we first landed and drove through Dakar. There were lots of shocking sights. But what really struck me were these little shacks made of sheets. Oh! That someone might live there! ha!! These industrious women hang sheets around a bench every day around 8 a.m. It is the sign: "open, ready for business". Now, when I see a sheet flapping in the breeze, my mouth waters. Oh! A sammich! :) The fare is simple. Sandwiches. bean (think baked beans or chili beans) espaghetti (typically vermicilli cooked in onions and oil) boiled eggs, I even had marinade at one--turned out to be diced potatoes, carrots, and onions. Accoutrements are mayonnaise (seasoned with pepper and onion), kaani hot pepper sauce. Mix and match to your joy and desire. Hopefully the seller has dense "village" bread to put it on, or you will get "machine" bread. Machine bread is just hard crust. This fine woman also typically has cafe touba which is not coffee at all. But instead is a kind of spicy tea. All of this for at most 60 cents. Oh, bean shack ladies! You are my hero.
With that, I think you have it. My obsession in Senegal. The other nigt, a fellow volunteer and I stayed up until 2 a.m. listing off food we wanted to eat (American food). Crazy. This post is now making me crave yassa, bean sandwiches, mangos.
Definitely. Forget the DSM IV.
I am obsessed with food.

Addendum: Ceebu xonq
Please, I encourage you to replicate this at home. Not using your sink or running water or a cutting board....
You will need:
knife (1)
big slotted spoon (1)
large bowls (2)
large pot with lid (1)
mortar and pestle
Ingredients:
whole fish (5, creek trout size)
1/2 bulb of garlic
1 c cherry tomatoes
3 vegetable or chicken boullion cubes
1/4 c tomato paste
3 small onions
5 tiny dried hot peppers
2 cubes soy (you can't find cubed soy flavoring at WalMart? Try extra boullion or soy sauce)
1 cabbage
5 c rice
water
2 c oil
~3 T rock salt

Step 1:
Add oil to a very hot pot. When oil is really hot (test by tossing salt in) add fish. (Oh! scale and clean fish. One knife. No running water. Do not cut the belly open.)
Step 2:
Peel garlic. Using only your hands. Crush in the mortar.
Step 3:
Stem and wash tomatoes. Drain. Squish to seed. Separate juice/seeds from "meat" and skins. Add garlic, boullion, tomato paste to meat and skins.
Step 4:
Remove fried (not fully cooked) fish from oil. Set aside. Add tomato garlic mixture to oil. Cook. Add a lot of water and the tomato juice (straining the seeds out). Keep boiling.
Step 5:
In mortar, crush onions and hot peppers and cubed soy (Maggi being the preferred brand).
Step 6:
Quarter cabbage (one knife, remember). Add cabbage and above mixture to the water. Mix. Return fish. Cook until cabbage is just overcooked. Remove fish and cabbage.
Step 7:
Add more water if needed. Bring up to a boil. Add rice. Cover. Add salt to season.
Step 8:
When rice is done, dish it into a large bowl (one of the ones you've already been using). Top with cabbage and fish. Eat with your hands.

Oh. If you are in Africa: The easiest way to remove oil from the plastic sack you bought it in is to melt it on the bottom of the hot pan. Sift rice. Rinse twice. Remove all rice hulls and small seeds and rocks.

If you want to use different veggies you can halve an eggplant or carrot (2 eggplants or 3 carrots), cassava can also be used. If you happen to have a jaxatu, toss that in whole.

Oh! and don't drain off any of the oil that your rice is swimming in.

And I feel inclined to add that this is a rare occassion dish. And while quite tasty, not nearly as tasty as the recipe would indicate.


*jaay fonde: (n) 1- seller of fonde 2-big butt ie: to be a jaay fonde, one must either sell her wares well (and therefore eat well, hence a large butt) or she must eat her own wares (and therefore eat well, hence a large butt)
**Shout of THANK YOU! to Mom, Donna, and Julie!
***Cas rocks as well and has my undying devotion!
****In a side note, bananas are about 90 cents for a kilo, 5 small oranges cost me 35 cents...pretty sweet.
^butik: Imagine the Winston, MT gas station without the gas. A quarter of the size. And 4x the amount of random merchandise.

Wire Stretcher, Staples, Pliers! Anyone?

Okay, so I know I've been lax on this whole blog-thing. I apologize. Now that I've gotten fairly settled, I hope to send out emails, post blogs, upload photos, etc on a much more regular basis. :) Inch' allah!

An example of what I'm up against here:
My toma (namesake) took me with her to one of the women's fields the other day. This is a field which I helped to "clear" a few months ago and is the epitome of the term "marginal space"...full of shrubbery, trees, and very hilly!! They have 4 good-sized pepineres that are quite appropriately covered with netting to keep bugs away. (They planted when I was in Tamba for an Ag Summit). Pulling back the netting, I see very healthy rows of cabbage, carrots, and onions. Very overcrowded. The rows are like little carpets of sprouts. :( Maybe they didn't realize they had bought good seed and had expected the germination rate would be lower. Maybe. Next year, I'll supervise better.
I hear voices coming from over the hill (really, it isn't a big field...just really not suitable for planting since it could maybe be terraced...). And I discover the real purpose of today's mission.
Fencing.
They have been blessed with the funds to buy barbed wire and I note they have leather gloves. Score! However, I notice no other familiar accoutrements. Women are setting about pulling branches off of trees and stripping the bark. Other women are hacking at dead trees with dull axes to cut posts. Others are digging post holes--a small child dutifully digging the dirt out (who needs a P.H.D. when you have a small child?) I want to cry as I watch them build this 6 strand barbed wire fence. 3' tall. Fence posts 2-3' apart. Wire only stretched by hand. Wire tied to the posts with strips of bark.
And I had to stop myself to ask what is better? Or worse? If I were to stop what they were doing, miraculously write a grant, buy steel fence posts and staples and a wire stretcher? If I were to stop what they were doing and have a live fence of thorny shrubs ready for 2 years from now? Or the fence they are building that will last 3 years before termites eat the fenceposts and goats will start slipping through the loose wire immediately?
Not to mention the waste of time, energy and funds. They could have used have as many fence posts and 1/2 as much wire....had they only known how to efficiently build this type of fence.
But what is more sustainable? The quick injection of my money and knowledge? That will need to be refenced in 10-15 years. Does anyone here know how to refence it? The fence they've built will have to be rebuilt 3 times in the next 10-15 years and is more expensive to build. But they did it themselves. Using their own means and methods. And a live fence can't be started at this time of year and takes longer to get established and more training on how to maintain it. And goats might still eat it. :(
There is the real riddle of sustainable development in practice.

Long Overdue

I swore in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer on October 16.
After some massive shopping in the market of Kaolack, I moved to Dioly on October 21st.
Dioly is a small village of about 250 people. There is no running water. There is no electricity. But there is a robine (communal faucet) on the way!

I called my niece to wish her a happy birthday. And she asked me some questions which made me realize that my emails haven't necessarily been thorough (oh, and I haven't been updating my blog? surely you jest!).

What are the people like?
This is a hard question. Just try to generalize all Americans. Oh. Really? You can stereotype Americans that easy? Okay. I guess I can try, then.
Senegalese are a very friendly, welcoming people. They boast about their "teranga" or hospitality. And it is true. When you meet someone new (Which you do about 20 times a day--because you say hello to EVERYONE), they ask you how you are, how your family is, how the heat is treating you, how your work is going...and follow every one of your responses with "alhamduliliah....tabarika la...jamm rekk..." (Thanks be to God, Peace Only). Then, they'll ask your last name and start their unique cultural joking... "Cisse! Your last name is Cisse! Oh, you like to eat rice! You eat so much! Ndiao is a much better last name. You should be a Ndaio." To which I refute everything (No! It is Ndiao that like to eat rice! Cisse is better!---Oh, okay, for you, I'll be a Ndiao.) Or, even better... ,"Cisse! Oh, I am a Cisse too! You are my family! What is your first name? Ouly! Ouly is my mother! Oh, my mother! It has been so long since I've seen you, I have missed you so much!" It takes some getting used to. But Senegalese, be they Wolof, Pulaar, Sereer, etc all love to joke and laugh. It is good that I, too, like to laugh. Alot. :)
When I walk past at breakfast, lunch, or dinner times, I get bombarded with "Kii, Lekk; Newal an; Doo ndekke?" (Here, eat; Come, have lunch; You aren't eating breakfast?) No matter how much one has eaten, it is really expected that one should stuff their face as much as possible. Repetitively. They cajole you into eating. Just to find out that lunch today is rice with slimy okra covered with a thick layer of red palm oil. But. It is a risk worth taking. Because lunch could be yassa (spicy onion sauce over rice) or maybe there are tasty vegetables in their rice and fish or maybe they are eating maafe (peanut sauce over rice). However, it seems to be Murphy's Law that if you cave and sit down to the bowl...you're eating okra.
I travel the 6 k to my nearest neighbor's village fairly frequently. The road takes me through 2 other small villages (Chicken and Rohan...I'm sure that is NOT how they are spelled, but it is how they sound). Everytime I go, I turn down numerous offers to eat or just to sit and talk... "Yes, I know it is hot out, the sun is very hot. You say the shade is cooler. I know. I know. But I must go home. Oh. You're building me a hut? Where I can stay and talk with you forever? Oh....with running water and electricity? Oh, I'll be right back!"
No, really, in 4 miles of mostly deserted sand path I will tell 20+ people where I am going, where I came from, acknowledge the heat, graciously tell them I'm full, acknowledge how pretty my bike is, apologize for the fact that I cannot give my bike away.

What time is it there? Is it hot?
I am 7 hours ahead of Mountain Time. So, as I write this, it is 11 a.m. here, and 4 a.m. at home.
It is still hot here. Though it has cooled down to 65 at night recently. Which results in my wearing socks and drinking Nescafe in the mornings. But it still gets up near 100 quite often.

What am I doing?
Learning. A different language and a different culture is hard. Especially when it is so far remove from your own. I sit in my hut and study or read. I hem up my skirts or mend things (and, a woman in my compound brought me a scrap of frabric the other day and asked me to sew her month old daughter an outfit...I did it. No machine. No iron. No pattern. It took me a day and a half. Pictures on facebook.) I go sit in the shade and get bombarded by small children. I tend my garden. Doing laundry takes all day. I eat my meals (except for breakfast) with everyone else. 5-15 people around a huge metal bowl of rice or millet topped with a variety of different sauces. My favorite is rice with yassa. Or millet with nebbe baasi (a brown bean sauce). There is usually fish--to some degree--in all meals. Even if I don't taste fish, I tend to find a fish bone...interesting...
But. They give me a spoon. And usuallly one or two of the men eat with a spoon, too. Everyone else uses their hand.
I was thinking the other night: What woman in her right mind would want to use plates and silverware? Eating Senegalese style is like having pizza night at home. No dishes! Especially since they use only one or two pots to cook in, one knife to cut everything, and they cut things while holding them--thus, no cutting board either! Cleanup in Senegal is pretty sweet!
I shell peanuts until I feel a blister starting. I help pull the leaves of moringa off the branch (for use in cooking). I silently cheer inside when I can understand things in casual conversation. I don't know how anyone can ever hear in a foreign language without actively listening.
Kids here are just like kids everywhere else. They are dirty. Covered in dirt. But they are bathed EVERY day. Not like dirty American kids who bathe every other day or every third day. But imagine if your livingroom floor were a sand box. Dirt happens. Kids here hate baths and washing, too. It is universal.
And kids here play the same games. Gemma and Mariama were tying a flashlight to their backs the other day, pretending it was a baby. Samba (yes, a boy) then took the flashlight, pulled up his shirt, and breast fed it. :) Samba and Omar-Fanne were playing around on the horse cart the other day and Fanne (Omar's mom. since there are multiple Omar's, her son is referred to as Omar-Fanne) asked him what he was doing. "Going to Nganda" (nearby town)
"Oh, what are you going to buy there?"
"Beignets!" (yes, doughnuts)
"Only beignets? That's a long way to go for otnly beignets. What else are you going to buy?"
"Bread...and bananas!"At which point, the boys started yelling "bananas" and runnning around like, well, they'd gone bananas.
I guess for all the difficult parts of language and culture, some things are exactly the same.

Ndanke-ndanke

I caution that one should not go lizard hunting in Senegal. Without water. In the middle of the day. When it is 90+ degrees.
There is a saying in Senegal that (translated from Wolof) says "Slowly/Quietly is how to best trap a monkey in the bush". Which we manipulated to trap a lizard.... However, we did not see any lizards. We instead got our pants COVERED in stick-tights and burrs, felt like we were going to die of thirst, got nasty sunburns, and thanked the Lord that "stealing" is not a concept in Senegal when we picked a handful of peanut plants to eat fresh peanuts. :) Really, it was a matter of life and death. I promise.

However, the next day, a guy in the village did catch a lizard. I'm told they taste like chicken. I will never know. Because my host-grandmother was very vehement about the fact that I COULD NOT eat lizard. That lizard was BAD and would make my stomach HURT. And, since I was in a very small village and everyone knows everything, I couldn't sneak and eat lizard. Mam Ami Sow would have known. And I don't think I would like to disappoint her.

(and sorry, since I don't have my Wolof notebook with me, I do not have the full phrase...but it starts out 'Ndanke-ndanke')

I have posted pictures on Facebook, if you want access to them and aren't on FB, email me and let me know, I'll send you the link.

Things have been going great here. The end of training is in sight! We have two weeks until swear-in and 18 days until I am installed at my site. I am going to be in the Kaffrine region of Senegal. Basically, if you look at a map of Senegal and follow the line of The Gambia...when the line jogs north, continue North-Westish for about 15k. Kind of. It is in the heart of the Peanut Basin. However, my techincal trainer tells me that "There is no Peace in Peanuts, therefore, Peace Corps does not extend Peanuts". :) Which is pretty funny. So I will be focusing more on corn, millet, cowpeas, sorghum, and rice. But, since the soil is sandy and poor, I will be focusing on rice and cowpeas most. I suspect easy success with the cowpeas...not so with the rice. :( There is a little bit of sesame being grown in my area as well.

Right now, I'm just excited to get to my site soon. To be able to buy things for my hut. To be able to plant things in my backyard. To be able to do a little bit of cooking by myself. To be able to start integrating into the village that will be my home for two years. Mostly, I think I am excited to be in control of my own life again (well, as in control as one can be while in Senegal), I would like to make to-do lists and follow my own timetable instead of everyone else's.
Of course, nothing is concrete....and if I don't pass my language exam on the 14th, I'll be a little delayed getting to my village :S. So, I should really be studying Wolof right now, not posting on my blog.

I *might* be able to get a blog/pictures up between the 17th and the 21st. If I don't, however, I will likely not have another blog until after Thanksgiving. I apologize in advance.

It's a Bird! It's a Plane!!

If one ever wants to feel like a celebrity:

1) move to a 3rd world country where you are the obvious minority

2) travel in multiples, so your novelty is amplified

3) take a horse-drawn carriage through a city

4) shock everyone by knowing the basics of their language

5) be flattered every time someone yells "Toubab!"...think of it as your celebrity nickname...rather than "white stranger", usually followed by "may ma xaliss" (offer me money).

So things are going well. I will be installed in my village on the 21st. My village is a approximately 250 people. My host father and counterpart (aka: host country co-worker) is pretty cool, we had some great laughs over conversation that neither of us understood well. And I have some ideas for what I want to accomplish in my village. Though, until I actually see my village, I suppose I shouldn't put the cart before the horse. (oh! so punny when I have pictures of my charet ride hopefully uploading...)

I must share the epitome of "I am in Africa" moments. So, a couple of weeks ago was Korite (the end of Ramadan) and the community was cooking communaly. I was told I had to help. So I went over and was pulling fly-covered chunks of meat out of a dirty tub and holding them over another tub, while another woman cut them into smaller chunks with a dull knife (both of us pulling on the meat). In the middle of this, there is another plastic tub full of water and potatoes and onions. Perched on the side of this second tub is a chicken, getting a drink. A young boy literally pushes 8 sheep past the "prep area"--within a foot of the prep area. And the woman cutting the meat lifts her top and her child comes over for lunch...as she cuts meat with a dull knife in a thoroughly unsanitary fashion, with a billion small animals and flies around. I have to share this, because I know that in another 4 months, this won't strike me as out of the ordinary.

Well, and I lie. Because I am quite sure that there are probably about 20 "epitome of Africa" moments that I have had....I really should start taking better notes, otherwise, I'll forget them all, and you'll never get to read a boring blog relaying them. And I couldn't deprive the world of that!

Finally!

Okay, so I apologize greatly for procrastinating this post.
It is just rather tough to borrow someone's computer and then feel ok for hijacking it for an hour or so...

So things are going well!
I am in a small community for training. There are maybe a dozen compounds in our village. I am living with a host family. My host family has two small children and the father speaks English and French. We have a solar panel. And luxuriously large "shower" and "toilet" facilities.
I am learning Wolof. Which is rather difficult. But I don't have to conjugate verbs. In Wolof, you "conjugate" the pronoun. So there are 8+ ways to say I, you, etc.

I eat "ceeb au jen" which is literally rice and fish. Sometimes, there is cabbage, eggplant, potato, or carrot cooked with the fish (or this crazy little green tomato like veggie called jaxatu). I eat ceeb au jen at least once a day if not twice. And I have 1/3 of a baguette for breakfast with a cup of creamer and sugar with 1/4 tsp of Nescafe in it. Which is just enough Nescafe to give it color. Obviously, I do not make my own "coffee". Maybe after I learn more Wolof I can make my own coffee.

If I'm productive enough, I'll get a few pictures uploaded tomorrow. If I can bum a computer. :)

New Placement!

So, I was sent an email yesterday (I know! Sunday! The PC office is definitely working hard on getting us reassigned!) which I got today (due to the internet being temperamental).

I am going to Senegal!

Now, for the introduction to Senegal:

• Senegal is just south of Mauritania.
• Senegal has lots of animals! Impalas, lions, cheetahs, monkeys, giraffes, oryx, warthogs, foxes, jackals, gazelles, rhinos, hippos, water buffalos, etc. Basically, the animals you would expect to see in Africa!
• It is approximately the size of South Dakota (~76,000 sq miles) with a population of ~13 million.
• While predominately Muslim (Sufism), 5% of the population is Catholic! Approximately 1% of the population practices tradition African animism. Senegal prides itself on religious tolerance.
• The city of Saint-Louis, Senegal is the African equivalent of New Orleans...a mecca for music (Jazz!) and the arts, it has also retained much of its French influence.
• Food will be similar to what I was expecting in Mauritania... though I haven't noticed any mention of the communal dish/eating by hand common to Mauritania... Maybe the food is the same, but the culture different in that aspect.
• Peace Corps will issue me a bike and helmet! For some reason, this is one of the more exciting things for me.
• Dress will be somewhat similar to what I'd already anticipated and packed for. However, it is much more progressive. Skirts only need to be below the knee, and it doesn't appear that I need to cover my shoulders. Loose fitting clothing is recommended. It will be socially acceptable for a Western woman to wear pants (though I probably don't want to make a habit of it).
• I will be living with a host family for the entire time I am there. I am guaranteed my own private room (including my own 'latrine'). Culturally, it is perceived as very odd if someone lives alone, therefore, PC places us with families... after all, being blonde-haired and blue-eyed is enough of an oddity!
• Best of all: "Senegal’s political stability has in many ways been a shining light in what has otherwise been a difficult post-independence struggle for most of sub-Saharan Africa." -PC Welcome Book, Senegal I have also read that Senegal is one of the few African nations that has never seen a coup d'etat. :) It is a socialist republic. (I can just imagine Mr. Hamilton's reaction...)
• I will be a "sustainable agriculture extension agent". The role is similar to my prior assignment, but is more focused on sustainability and community outreach/support/involvement.
• What it all boils down to is good things! Less sand, more fruits and vegetables, more animals, more tolerant and progressive culture, more water...

I am leaving August 10th.

I was just getting used to the idea that I might be here until the middle of September.

Now I'm feeling frantically crunched for time.

I have 2 cattle drives, a trip to Big Fork, a trip to Great Falls?, a hike/ride up to Edith Lake, Fair/Rodeo, and the training of 2-3 horses to do! Besides study as much French as possible and re-pack!

I depart in approximately 42 days.

Well, so long as I don't get a call a week out postponing things... ;)

Not going to Mauritania. period.

I just got a call from Peace Corps. They decided that, rather than string us along for a few months, they'd offer us new placements. They will construct a brand-new Mauritania class if/when Mauritania gets their act in gear. They are not, by any means, canceling Mauritania's program. They do not view yesterday's murder as anything anti-Peace Corps, they do not believe current volunteers are in any sort of danger. Mauritania and all of the presidential candidates have expressed their desire to keep Peace Corps.

Here is a small list of other countries I could possibly go to...and when. I might not be in an agricultural program anymore. I might not be going to Africa. I might not be in a francophone country.

August 2nd = Uganda

August 10th = Guatemala, Senegal

August 11th = Panama

August 17th = Namibia

August 18th = Dominican Republic

August 19th = Belize, Kazakhstan

August 20th = Philippines

August 24th = Eastern Caribbean

August 31st = Nicaragua

September 1st = Mexico

September 3rd = Micronesia and Palau

September 7th = Morocco

September 9th = Peru

September 12th = Vanuatu

September 14th = Macedonia

September 16th = Togo

September 17th = Cameroon

September 23rd = Malawi, Paraguay

September 27th = Ukraine

September 28th = Azerbaijan, Mozambique, Turkmenistan

October 2nd = Ethiopia

October 22nd = Jordan

November 11th = Lesotho

November 30th = Guinea

Some of these are highly unlikely. I.e.: Guatemala, I do not speak Spanish and my aunt owns a home there. Though, not all of these are likely possibilities, by any means. Some do not have programs that I am eligible for. Some speak languages I have no knowledge of.

Oh well. We'll see.

The Placement Office will have some possible placements for me, or some more definite timelines hopefully by next Tuesday. Which would be truly amazing! All of us Mauritania rejects will be given priority placement, etc, etc. And, like I just told my PO on the phone, (oh, and that's Placement Officer, not parole officer, smarty-pants!) I just can't imagine being on their end figuring out all of these logistics. Ugh! Just tell me where to go and when to be there and I'm okay!

I just hope that wherever I go, I can still use my new long dresses and long skirts! Though, I will not complain if I am going the South Pacific or the Caribbean. :) Really, I won't complain if I am going to Ukraine or Azerbaijan, either.

Uncertainties

An American has been killed in the Mauritanian capital of Nouakchott. Read here. And there is still a lot of Election hullabaloo.

I am worried that tensions will not ease after the election.

I think I'm just paranoid because I read "Left to Tell" yesterday. Reading about all of the political uncertainties in that situation makes me imagine the worst eventualities in this situation.

Time will tell.

Not en route to Africa

The good news:

1) I didn't cry constantly this whole past week.

2) I didn't stress about re-packing my bags.

3) I have a couple more months to practice my French.

4) I am able to better organize all the junk I'm leaving in the states.

5) I will be able to go to another Broadwater County Fair and Rodeo.

6) I will get to attend my niece, Quincy's, 5th birthday party.

7) I will (most likely) get to see Kirchhoff's when they come up to MT to visit.

8) I will get to enjoy another MT summer.

9) I will get to watch Harry Potter in the theaters!!

10) I have a little more time to save a bit more money.

The bad news:

1) I will have to say a 2nd round of good-byes.

2) I have to unpack my bags.

3) I have to keep studying Rosetta Stone. (I think I'll punch my computer some day!)

4) I need to look at the stuff I'd hoped to not look at for the next 2 years.

5) I have to explain to people why I am still in the States.

6) When I come home from Mauritania, it will be October 2011.  Going from Mauritania October to MT October will be a HUGE shock to my system!!

7) I have to find/start/end a job in less than 2 months.

8) I will have to repack my bags.

9) I have a couple more months of student loan payments.

10) I found all this out exactly 1 week ago.  Exactly 1 week before I was to have boarded a flight to Philadelphia for staging.

So.

What happened?

The Mauritanian government has decided to not issue any new visas until after their presidential elections.  (Their elections were initially scheduled for early June and have been rescheduled for July 18th.)  I appreciate their foresight (after all, it would NOT be fun to have just gotten there while there are riots, slightly unstable government, etc).  The Peace Corps did try to pull every single string they had and call out every old favor.  But ambassadors, etc could not create a miracle.

Peace Corps is confident that our visas will be issued promptly after the election.  They figure we will be headed out mid-August.  

And.

What am I going to do now?

Well, preferably, a whole lot of nothing! I figure I need to pin down a part-time job somewhere. I am pretty flexible on the location...Kalispell, Townsend, Billings, Durango, maybe even Great Falls! But I plan on trying to make myself relax a bit.  If I stay in Townsend, I will likely spend the time breaking my (not-quite-so-young) fillies (well, maybe they qualify as mares by now) and helping out my parents.  If I go up to Kalispell, I will likely find a job in a nursery and have fun with my nieces.  If I go to Billings, I will house-sit for my aunt while she is out of the country, and maybe go to Guatemala with her.  If I went to Durango, I would find a job...and probably have to do a fair bit of dog-sitting...and Esther might make me run.  If I went to Great Falls, my life would be similar to life in Kalispell.

I made myself not stress about all of this last week.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Oregon with my sisters and my time in Seattle with Cas and Amanda.  

So, uh, keep posted...Mauritania has been delayed...but I am trying to not be too discouraged about it.

The rundown...for any who've missed it

1) What am I doing?  Why?  

I started my application for the Peace Corps 1 1/2 years ago.  Literally.  But I didn't click the submit button until the end of October.  Mid-January, I was nominated for an agricultural program in Mauritania.  Normally, specific information re: the country is not given to the applicant at this time.  I don't know why I was so lucky.  But it gave me a TON of time to adjust to the thought of Mauritania.  I was officially invited in April and I fly out of Seattle for orientation (aka: "stage") on the 15th.

Really, I have always wanted to travel.  And I enjoy helping people.  I have always felt drawn to international outreach.  And I finally got to the point in my life where it seemed stupid that I wasn't joining the Peace Corps.  I couldn't come up with any good reason why I wasn't volunteering.  So, I am saying good-bye to my student loans, family, friends, most of my possessions, my horses, running water, electricity, showers, and comfort food for a couple of years.  Don't worry, I'll be back (and those student loans aren't ever going away!)

2) Mauritania:

Is a real country (I know, I almost didn't believe it either!)

Located in North West Africa.  South of Morocco and next door to Mali (home of Timbuktu).

Is big.  Almost 420,000 square miles.

Has approximately 3 million residents.

Approximately 2,988,00 of those residents are Muslim.

Oh, the official title for Mauritania is "Islamic Republic of Mauritania"

It is truly (confirmed by most every site I've read) one of the most under-developed countries in the world.

4/5 of Mauritania is the Sahara Desert.

Is currently under a military junta.  Democratic elections were scheduled for June 6, however, they have been postponed until August.

3) Agroforesty Agent:

I will be trying to help grow more sustainable, nutritious, and plentiful crops.  While decreasing erosion (ie: sand storms) and desertification (the Sahara has been expanding due to severe drought since the 1960s) by using conservation agriculture methods like no-till farming and planting trees.  

4) Details:

This is a 2 year commitment.  I have 2-3 months of training in country (Rosso, Mauritania  it is in the south, along the border of Senegal) followed by placement somewhere.  Where I may or may not have another white person in my village and I may or may not live with a host family.  I also may or may not have electricity, running water, or internet.  I may live in a mud hut.  I will have a cell phone. :)  And I will have internet access at least once a month when I have to report in to the regional capital. 

5) Contact:

I will have a cell phone.  So, depending on how expensive it is to use for international calls, I may be able to actually talk to people!!

I will have internet access intermittently.  I will try to keep this blog updated, update my Facebook, etc and send out personal and mass emails.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I will LOVE getting real mail.  Especially if there is some kind of goody tucked in there. :)

My address (for the first few months, anyway):

Teresa Schnur, PCT

Corps de la Paix

B.P. 222

Nouakchott, Mauritania

West Africa

One needs to write "Par avion" on the envelope.  Apparently mail does still travel by boat.  Mail that is delivered via boat takes months.  Versus the weeks via plane.  Also, please number your letters to me.  I hear that I may miss some, or get many at the same time.  I would like to know what order to read them in. (And I'll number my letters to you!).

6) To answer all those other questions:

What will I eat?

Rice and lamb. Couscous and lamb. Rice and fish. Couscous and fish. With some random vegetables thrown in. I will drink lots of mint tea.  I will eat my meals out of a communal dish.  Using my right hand rather than cutlery. Being in a Muslim country, I will not be eating pork. :'( Due to lack of refrigeration, I will also not be eating the cheese I am used to. :'(

What will I wear?

Ankle length skirts. Legs are super-sexy.  They must not be seen.  I should also keep my shoulders covered.  And my head, depending on how conservative of a region I am in.  I will be wearing sandals (I bought 2 pairs of Chacos which I love), as shoes must be taken off before entering a house...and shoes and socks would be quite hot.

Diseases?

Malaria is endemic.  I will be on anti-malarial drugs, which I hear produce some very colorful dreams.  I will be vaccinated for Yellow Fever.  HIV/AIDS is not nearly so predominant as it is in many other areas of SubSaharan Africa.  There is a nasty parasite in fresh water, called schistosomiasis...therefore I must avoid swimming/bathing/wading in lakes and rivers.  Most illnesses are parasitic or related to poor food quality (ie: lack of refrigeration).  Diarrhea is one of the main killers of children.

Well, that about covers everything for now.

Especially since I mostly posted all of this in order to procrastinate studying French and packing.  Now it is 11 and I have to pack...or else sleep on the floor.

Mauritania in 15 days!

Less than 1 month

I will be in Mauritania on June 18th.  

Which is 30 days from today.

The last fifteen days will be spent with family and close friends.  

Which means I have exactly 15 days to pack and move.  

And things look a little hairy in my room right now. :S  At least I only have 1 more box of kitchen stuff (hopefully) to pack up.

I just received my staging information.  I need to be in Philadelphia by 6 p.m. on June 15th.  When I tried to call SATO Travel today to book my flight to Philly, they were slammed and having computer issues.  So.  They told me they'd call me at about 7 a.m. tomorrow.  

It is approximately a 5 hr flight from Seattle to Philadelphia.  

I will be leaving JFK @ 3:50 p.m. on the 17th, and will arrive in Dakar, Senegal 8 1/2 hours later.  Which will be 4:15 a.m. local time on the 18th.  I don't know the travel plans from there...It might be a bus that we'll take into Mauritania...or some little puddle-jumper plane.

I emailed the PC office to find out how I'm doing on my Rosetta Stone hours.  Hopefully I am over 1/2 way done.  

Other than that, I think I'm doing pretty good on my "to-do" list.  I still need to call my insurance agent re: any updates I can make to my policy for my absence.  But I think that's about it.  Yay!

Productivity!! Finally!!

1) Register to vote. Check!

2) Request absentee ballot. Check!

well, I now have the form.  I will send it in as soon as I have my permanent Mauritania address.

3) Register pickup. Check! Check! Check!

Yep, that's right.  I dished out some extra money and finally got permanent tags.  Now Mom doesn't have to think about my registration every April!

4) Finish PC Mauritania resume. Check!

Extensive application, essays, interviews...I still had to write up another resume!

5) Write PC Mauritania Aspiration Statement. Check!

see above re: redundancy

6) Practice two hours of French. Check!

And my brain is now fried!

And that was just today!  And I worked 7 hours!

Now, about the French practice.  

The Peace Corps is continual surprises.  They advised me (in January) to enroll in a college course or buy Rosetta Stone.  I guffawed and bought cheap Berlitz curricula and downloaded free podcasts.  Yesterday, I received an email from PC Mauritania.  Outlining instructions for how to log on to my online Rosetta Stone course and telling me that I must complete at least 40 hours before I arrive in country.

40 hours.  In 46 (counting yesterday) days.  Not accounting for all of the days I'll be with family, etc. (or the upcoming days where I work 8-5 at the bank and 5-11 at the GranTree...but only 2 more of those)

Well, now.  I should probably study another 1/2 hour of French before I go to bed....

Au revoir!

It is snowing again

The below article outlines why I was getting rather worried about actually being invited.  

However, it conversely points out how to become a more competitive applicant.  All of the basic "we can teach them this program content" assignments get snapped up very quickly by all the liberal arts, etc degrees.  However, if one has experience in technology, agriculture, business, etc...those program areas are basically begging for volunteers.

Thus, I wind up doing agriculture because of my "almost-match" skill set, rather than waiting until next year for a community health program, etc.

http://thenewservice.wordpress.com/2009/04/23/toughroadtopeacecorps/

Every day, I think I finally understand how frantic I should be.  But I really don't understand.  Because a few days later, I say to myself, "Wow! Only 5 more weekends until I leave Bozeman!"  And my schedule is getting packed.  I am not getting packed, but my schedule is. heh heh

So I tried to get going on my packing mission today.  But ran out of newspaper before I even had a full box of dishes. :S  

I am working 21 hours at the GranTree this week.  Which usurps my packing (btw: 3 types of packing: bringing to Mauritania, storing @ Mom/Dad's, and goodwill), language studying, etc.

But the money is worth it.  A couple more crisp 100 dollar bills I can ferret away for exchange in country.  Or a couple hundred more I can tuck into my bank account here.

And I need to call in sick this week.  Because I have to get to the Broadwater Co Courthouse to register my truck, register to vote, apply for an absentee ballot, etc.  And Judy won't let me work this Saturday (and therefore, work 1/2 a day during the week)...which means I must call in sick in order to get this stuff done. :S  I feel rather bad about it, but it isn't my fault that I am not legitimately having time off.

On an ending note, I said good-bye to winter earlier this week.  I went outside in the middle of the night as 6+ inches were dumped on Bozeman, and I took pictures of the "last snow for 2 years".  Ha!  Winter didn't want to say goodbye.  It is snowing again.