The beginning of the end

As I near the end of my service, it is the little things that are making the deepest impact on me.

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When I biked home to village the other afternoon, I went through 3 villages in 5 kilometers. In each village, the children came running out screaming, "Ouly! Ouly! Ouly! Ana waa ker? Ana waa ker?" (My local name, repetitively, and "How is the family" repetitively). The old men sitting underneath of the trees said, "Ouly! Cisse! Ana sa njatige? Kii, dafa bon!" (My local first and last name, "How is your boss? He's awful!") I arrived home with my cheeks hurting from smiling and laughing for so long. It is fun to be famous. The sun was setting and the green fields were reflecting golden. Life is good.

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I got in to a sept-place (public transport for rich people between large cities) the other day. I greeted everyone in Wolof. No one seemed too impressed. It started to get a bit stuffy, so I pulled out my locally-made fan. As soon as I started fanning myself, the man sitting next to me asked where I learned Wolof. I told him in Thies. And he said, "Corps de la Paix!" and asked where I lived. I told him south of Kaffrine and the young man sitting in front of us whipped around and said, "Where?" I explained where I lived and that I had lived there for 2 years and that I was helping farmers. But the young man from Kaffrine couldn't grasp that I wasn't a tourist. So the man sitting next to me explained it to him, with my help, for the next 45 minutes. To sum up, "She is a volunteer, she doesn't get paid to be here. She doesn't give money, she gives knowledge. She is an American and Americans are curious. So she has come here to learn all about Senegalese people. She has studied the language and the culture. She lives in the village with a family. She eats what they eat and she does what they do. If they go pick peanuts, she goes and picks peanuts, if they go weed a field, she goes and weeds the field. She is part of a family here. When she goes back to America, she will tell everyone about Senegal." (Repeat 12 times with slight variations)

And then he says to me, in English, "It is the American way, no?"

A lasting difference...

All Peace Corps Volunteers hope and pray that something they do will last beyond their time. We don't necessarily hope that a structure we helped create still stands in 20 years. We typically hope that one single person uses some knowledge gained from us in 20 years.

We had a Sustainable Agriculture summit a few weeks ago. We have one of these every 6 months, typically in different areas around the country. This last summit, we were in Tambacounda, a far outpost in eastern Senegal. We had a field trip on the last day to visit the Master Farmer's farm not far out of town. The night before the field trip, Massaly, our director, called the volunteer living out there and asked if she had another garden we could tour. She said yes.

Massaly had never toured this garden, never heard of this man. We walked into his walled garden area and were completely blown away. He had an orchard of mangoes and citrus. There was heavy mulching under the trees and alley crops of cucumber and melon between the trees. He had conducted a small experiment for himself and discovered that the trees with vegetables grown between them in the off-season had a higher survival rate and more vigorous growth than the trees with no alley cropping of vegetables. He was using improved technologies, like a generator and pump at his well. He had also purchased a drip irrigation system to use for his vegetables in the dry season. Massaly couldn't get over how beautiful this field was. He kept asking questions. Come to find out this man has 3 other hectare-sized fields just like this one.

Finally, Massaly asked him where he first learned the mulching and alley cropping technologies.

Apparently there was a volunteer placed in a nearby village in 1993. She was the one who mentioned these techniques to the farmer and helped him out.

Massaly wrote down her years of service, her Senegalese name, and the village she was posted to.

He's going to try to contact her and let her know the difference she has made in this one man's life and his livelihood.

One person. And now he's a very successful farmer and well-respected and listened to in the community.

One person is all the PCV has to reach, that person can reach the rest.

Feminism

"You know what 10,000 girls can do?"

"One hundred thousand loads of laundry!

Acres of sweeping!

100,000 buckets of water pulled.

Thirty thousand bowls of ceeb au jen (rice and fish)!

Five hundred thousand babies born to under-age mothers!

They do dishes, they'll collect firewood, and when you're not feeling up to the task, they'll do your work too!

Ten thousand girls?

Ten thousand plowed fields!

Millions of peanut crops harvested!

They can pound, they can pull, and if they're old enough to stand on their own two feet, they can work for you all day and night!

Just yell out your window for young Faatu or Khady to come today and see the difference that 10,000 girls can make!"

-- PCV-written entry to our country-wide newsletter, circa spring '09

There is a bit of a back-story here. Why "10,000 girls" was chosen as the demonstrative number, it is an NGO which works here in Kaolack.

It is true. This country couldn't run if not for the strong backs of women. Women who wake before sunrise, pound the millet for breakfast, do laundry while it is still cool, reheat last night's sauce over a wood fire, eat breakfast, iron and fold the clean laundry (with a charcoal-heated iron), go to the fields to weed or thin or water or harvest OR shell or roast or pound peanuts, make lunch over a wood fire, clean up after lunch, make tea (a 2 hour process), go to the fields to weed or thin or water or harvest, pull water at the well and carry it -- repeat at least 8 times, make supper, eat, fall asleep while contemplating making more tea. All of this with a child tied to your back and a few children running ragged around you. Bathing these kids at least once, if not twice, a day. Answering the beck and call of any man whose path may cross theirs. And many of these women have 5 children by the age of 24.

And they bear it all. Because it is their role. And I've been starting to wonder what it will take to for these women to have a feminist movement.

The situation here is a little different. Women are granted suffrage. However, they are not typically respected in other ways that we believe to be (in this day and age) within our basic human rights. Arranged marriages are forced on young girls (12-16); women have very little ownership over property; physical abuse is seldom followed up on by police; rape isn't seen as such a horrific crime; polygamy is the standard, etc. The usual situation here would be called "little woman"-ing at home. Men look down on women. A woman should always bring them water, a stool, or whatever they ask for. If a woman has a good idea, it is dismissed. Young girls are forced to drop out of school in order to help their mothers at home.

Then, the other day, I sat in my compound watching the "ndur naabe" (nomadic Pulaars) moving their wagons through town. It dawned on me that almost all of these carts were being driven by women.

Very few women drive cars here. Very few women ride bikes here. Very few women drive wagons here.

Then I did a little research and asking around. I found out that the rate of polygamy in the Pulaar ethnic group is much lower than that of the Wolof ethnic group.

And then I realized something else groundbreaking (well, it was groundbreaking in my mind).

The first state to allow women the vote was Wyoming.

The first woman elected to U.S. Congress was from Montana (Jeanette Rankin).

What do these two states have in common? The frontier/homestead history.

I came to the conclusion that pioneer women had to work just as hard as the men. The men came to rely on their wives as work partners. They were alone in this new world. They had no other support systems, no extended family, no neighbors down the way. They had to rely on each other. They learned to respect one another. Men and women in the west typically learned how to work together and learned that both sexes had their respective strengths and weaknesses.

Take Laura Ingalls-Wilder for instance. First of all, she hyphenated her last name! How progressive! Charles Ingalls knew that without the strength and fortitude of his wife, Caroline, they would never have survived. They typified the strong relationships that grew out of those stressful times.

So, as I watched those nomadic Pulaar women pull through town, whipping their donkeys, I couldn't help but feel a little hope. The Senegalese women are tough, they are strong, this nation has been built on their backs. The Pulaar women know it. The Pulaar men know it. They just need to help the others to see it.

What, you may ask, are the men doing while the women complete that arduous list of tasks? They are sitting in the shade under a tree, drinking tea, shooting the breeze.

The Road to Hell...

One of the books that helped inspire me to submit my Peace Corps application was "Three Cups of Tea". Upon coming to Senegal, I have seen at least 3 copies of the book in every regional Peace Corps office. Now, it appears that "Three Cups of Tea", "Stones into Schools", and Greg Mortenson are not who/what they claimed to be.

See: New Yorker article Bozeman Daily Chronicle article Any other reputable news source you can find, including, the Byliners article written by Jon Krakauer, "Three Cups of Deceit" (a small payment is required).

EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWS IS MY OWN OPINION AND MY OWN OPINION, ONLY. I am going to focus only on the development aspect of the issue at hand. Not on the financial indiscretions nor the apparent storyline fabrications.

Ethnocentrism: "judging other cultures by the standards of your own, which you believe to be superior".

Seeing a "developing" country is exceedingly difficult. And it is really easy to believe we, as Americans, have all the correct answers. Arriving in Senegal, it was easy to look at a situation, from a distance, and say, "I can fix that! If I get money for X or build Y, it will all be better!"

The glory of Peace Corps is that we have the same grandiose ideas as Greg Mortenson. However, we very seldom have any money to back our programs. And we also have to live in the country we're working in. We have to eat the food that is provided us. We have to acclimate ourselves to the cultural norms and mores of our host countries. We live here and see the errors of blind gift-giving. We live here and see the obstacles to development. We also get to figure out how to make development work and be sustainable when we are gone.

What "development" is, first and foremost, is behavior change. It is teaching people and challenging people. The best quote I've ever seen to describe development work is:

"Go to the people. Learn from them. Live with them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. The best of leaders, when the job is done, when the task is accomplished, the people will say, 'We have done it ourselves.'" - Lao Tzu

Lessons learned:

• The problems I perceive are not necessarily problems in the eyes of the people I serve.
  
• The solutions that I feel are self-evident are often impractical.
  
• Regardless of how strongly I feel for a project, I cannot inspire locals to adopt my project as their own. I need to adopt their projects for my own; since they care, it is 700 times more likely to work.
  
• Typically, people will not turn down a gift. Whether they need it or not. They'll probably even take it even if they don't want it. Think about all the free stuff you've accumulated over the years. Did you really need it? Did you really want it? But it was free, and offered, so you took it.
  
• One must remember all the relevant factors in a situation, and implement proper project planning.

However, when a well-intenioned soul tries to dabble in development, they don't typically have this experience to call upon. If Greg Mortenson had dropped his ethnocentric bias, if he had considered the entirety of the problem, if he had instituted follow-up plans and program monitoring, most of his problems wouldn't have occurred. (Well, except for the whole financial hoopla).

WITNESSED EVENT: Children studying in the wide outdoors, using sticks in the sand.
SOLUTION: They need a school! Ready, set, go!

MORE PRAGMATIC APPROACH:

• "Huh, I wonder why they're studying outside?" -- Do they have an existing building they simply aren't using? Is there an existing NGO in the area doing educational outreach? How about I ask lots of different people these questions, because I'm sure I'll hear lots of different answers. Do they need or want a building? What kind of building would work the best?
  
• "They don't appear to have proper learning aides..." -- Why not? Did an NGO once give them books, paper, pens? Is there no where to buy such things? Is paper for some reason not practical or sustainable? What are the options? What about chalkboards? Those are reusable!
• "This teacher seems to be dedicated..." -- Who pays the teacher? Where does he/she live? What is his/her education level? What subjects are taught? Once again, what learning aides are available? How can I help this teacher provide quality educational materials to his students?
• "Look at these kids who are so dedicated to their education that they're drawing in the dirt!" -- How can I help keep these kids engaged in education? How can I encourage them to continue their educations? What does an educated kid around here do? What are their job prospects? How can their education help them in these goals?
• Find out what times of the year the students are available to attend school. Why? What are the other duties that pull a child away from school? At what age do children typically quit attending school? Why?
  
• What is the education level of the parents? Do the parents value education? Is there any drive to educate ones' children?

What if there are no children going to school, even though there is a teacher and a school building?

• Is it hard to get to?
• What are the other duties the children perform? Do they have to work in the fields? Do they have to care for other children?
  
• Do the parents understand the value of education? Are the parents educated? What level are the parents educated to?

What if there is not a teacher, but there is a school building and interested children?

• Is there a shortage of teachers in the country?
• Who employs the teachers? Have they been paying the teachers?
• How can a community member fill the role of teacher? How could he/she be paid? What training would they need?

What if there is a school building, and no teachers and no interested children?

• Well, then it appears that perhaps someone got wrapped up in the glory of handing out money. As a fellow PCV said today, "A building doesn't make a school".

I believe that Greg Mortenson and CAI have built many schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan which were sustainable. There were villages that had teachers easily accessible, parents who understood the concept of formal education, students who had the means to go. These villages were able to take advantage of the great gift that was dropped in their laps.

However, from what I can tell, many other villages requested a school just because they could get one. There was something free, and they wanted in on it. A pragmatic NGO would have weeded these villages out. It would have been discovered that there wasn't a full-time population or that there weren't any teachers available or that the area floods in the spring or that another NGO is building a school 5 k away or that there isn't the student body to justify a school ....

Development is HARD. And large NGOs have a difficult time balancing donations, foreign-spent money, obtaining receipts, creating obtainable and measurable goals & objectives, achieving said goals and objectives, all while respecting cultural differences. I'm not saying that one person can't create a functional multi-national NGO and achieve great things. What I'm saying is that the learning curve is mighty steep. And said individual would need to be open to learning from each and every mistake.

I hope that CAI is able to pull themselves through this mess. There are some dedicated, competent people who work for CAI. People who are devoted to the mission. However, somewhere over the last 16 years, their figurehead lost his way. He got blinded by the limelight and never learned how to make his creation the better. He instead got distracted by the glory of gift-giving, without ever noticing if the gifts were well-received.

I'm going to stop my tirade now. If anyone wants to discuss this further with me, feel free to comment! I'm interested to find out what other people think about this situation, and development work as a whole.
Because, ultimately, as corrupt a situation as this appears to be, I still feel like as long as just a few people changed their behavior in regards to education, or were able to access a functioning school then Mortenson didn't flub up entirely.

Brass Tacks

As most of the novelty of being immersed in a foreign culture has worn off, I will take this opportunity to talk about my work. (If you find it boring, please respond with topic requests!!)



It is the dry season. Well, it is the end of the cool-dry season. Senegal not-so-officially has a few seasons. 1) The HOT-dry season, April-May/June 2) The rainy season, June/July-September/October 3) The not-quite-so-hot-dry season, October/November 4) The cool-dry season, December/January and 5) The it-is-getting-hotter-dry season, Febrary/March.

The cool-dry season is the traditional gardening season. While garden beds must be watered daily, the temperatures are much more tolerable for most vegetables. So, I've been doing a fair bit of gardening recently.

The primary goal of Peace Corps' gardening outreach are to promote techniques which save water and maximize space. The first step is to improve the growing medium. Most of Senegal is sand. The soil is not conducive to nurturing plants. So, we add green leaves, dead leaves, ash, crushed charcoal, and manure/compost to our garden beds. These amendments are worked down to a depth of about 18". That's right, you need to use a pick to dig down through this hard-packed sand and clay. Fun.

Next, we emphasize the importance of appropriate plant spacing within the garden beds. By planting a bed hexagonally, one can fit more plants into the same area...keeping the appropriate between-plant spacings. We also encourage companion planting. Growing carrots, lettuce, and tomatoes together means that you can maintain close spacing...because each plant is using a different strata to grow in (root, leaf, fruit). A happy side-effect of companion planting is mutually beneficial relationships; ie, planting onions with cabbage helps to decrease the amount of pest damage on the cabbage (the smell of the onion repels some insects).

Finally, we encourage mulching. The main field crop in Senegal is peanuts. Which means we have an abundance of peanut shells everywhere. And peanut shells make great mulch! By topping a garden bed with 3" of deep mulch, one can retain enough water to only have to water every-other day, instead of up to twice a day. Mulch also has excellent other benefits: weed control, soil-erosion barrier, etc.

Peace Corps is also trying to encourage year-round gardening. A barrier to food security and good nutrition in the village is ACCESS. In the cities and larger towns, a variety of foods are always available. However, most villages are secluded and inaccessible because of poor roads. Which means the villagers only go shopping elsewhere once a week, if that. They are reliant on what they are growing for themselves. So besides seasonal gardening of carrot, cabbage, onion, melon, okra, beet, squash, etc., we push year-round maintenance of garden beds containing hot/bell pepper, tomato, eggplant, jaxatu, and sweet potato. A small bed with a plant or two of each variety can make a huge difference in the eating habits of a village family. (If only they can keep it watered and protected from goats.)

Random

• I saw the Southern Cross the other night. Or, at least I think it was the Southern Cross. I saw the Big Dipper. Did an about-face. And saw something that could be called a cross. I assume my astronomical skills are accurate and that was the Southern Cross. Cool!
• A bat is living in my pit latrine. I saw him the other night and was worried that he was stuck and his wingspan was too wide to escape through the small opening. Two nights later those fears were resolved and replaced with the fear of a slightly damp bat flying up at me at 5 a.m. No. He was not stuck in my pit latrine. Positive side: perhaps he's eating lots of the bugs that are infesting it.
• All of my kohlrabi germinated!! I'm going to eat kohlrabi until I'm sick in about a month and a half. :D heh heh
• I have decided to teach the 1 1/2 year old boy in my compound English. This promises to be very easy. He loves me and "visits" with me alot. So I have decided to only speak to him in English. His mother thinks this is a great idea, especially since she already jokes that his jibberish is English and asks me to translate.
• It is the season of gardens! I planted a 4 meter pepinere with my counterpart. We really didn't consider how much that means we'll have to transplant. We need to start digging ALOT more garden beds. We're going to have more lettuce, cabbage, and onion than we could ever imagine. Maybe I can "accidentally" let the goats eat some.... (horrors! I never said that!)
• It is also the "cold" season. It gets down to the low 60s in my hut at night. Which means I put on socks and huddle under my flannel sheet. I drink hot beverages in the morning. So cold!
• My village will be getting a fancy new peanut-sheller within the next week (hopefully). Which will be an interesting mechanical learning experience. As long as it works well, I will be hailed as a hero! My namesake is waiting to shell 4 50 kilo bags of peanuts until she has the new machine. :S That's a lot of pressure.
• Inshallah I'll recieve the funding for a large community garden project (which included water development) within the next couple of weeks. This means that I will be insanely busy....soon....maybe.
• I have nothing to blog about. Which is why I hadn't blogged since September. IF YOU WANT TO READ ABOUT MY LIFE, TIMES, EXPERIENCES, HORROR STORIES, SOB STORIES, SLIGHTLY UPLIFTING STORIES, etc THEN COMMENT ON THIS POST WITH YOUR IDEAS AND QUESTIONS!!!! Seriously! Especially since my brain is fried here and I really can't remember anything, including what stories I have shared with people and what ones I have not.

A year in

I have been in Senegal for a year now.

The new "stage" of Agriculture and Agroforestry volunteers have been in the country for a month. The veteran volunteers from last year are all starting to go home. (Well, not all of them. A fair number are sticking around to help with trainings, work on special projects, etc for the next 6 months to a year.) Do you remember that moment in high school when you realized other people were looking up to you? That you were the one with all the answers? I'm supposed to be that person here, now. Crazy!

Really, what I have done for the last year is just learn. I have learned the Wolof language (not well...but...), I have learned about the culture. I have learned how to grow things like sorghum, millet, cassava.



However, I have not learned how to be creative and come up with ideas for blog posts. Forgive me.



At a suggestion from my sister, some details about different projects in Senegal:

• There is a volunteer in my region who has acquired funding to build a seed-storage warehouse. This will make it easier for farmers to save their own seed. Seed can be expensive. And, if kept in the home, the risk of insect or rodent damage is pretty high. Not to mention that it is also easier to just eat that seed when other food runs short. This warehouse project has also facilitated some community-building work. There is now an organization of farmers who will use this building. They have already participated in group trainings. With this warehouse bringing them together, it will be easier for them to use each other as resources, learn what other farmers are doing, etc.


• Another project is planting "intensive beds" of Moringa olifera at schools and throughout a community. Moringa is a fast growing tree. The leaves are excellent nutrition (ie: if Popeye had eaten moringa instead of spinach, Bruno never would have even thought of looking at Sweetpea). Fully grown, moringa trees can be used for fuel wood because they coppice easily. They can also be used for live fence posts. However, the goal for an intensive bed is to plant a whole bunch of moringa really close together (ie: 10 cm spacing) and harvest the leaves every two months. This means that when the trees are as high as your waist, you are cutting them down to your knees.


• School gardens. There is a group of volunteers who are putting together an educational curriculum to be used in conjunction with a school garden. This way, teachers can take their math and science classes outside. The students can learn how agriculture is really something that needs some basic education in order to be effective and profitable. A few goals here 1) increase adolescent nutrition by having fresh fruits and vegetables available at school 2) teach the children techniques and technologies that they can pass along to their parents 3) make the education applicable for what many of these students will be doing for the rest of their lives.


• Master Farmer Program. There are 15-20 Master Farmers throughout Senegal. This is a pilot program. Peace Corps received funding eartagged for food security and created this project. We have selected qualified, respected farmers strategically located across the country. We fenced a hectare of their property, brought water to it (a spigot or a well), and made them give us free rein. :) The goal is to create demonstrations that the Master Farmer can disseminate to his colleagues. We are showing the importance of timely thinning/weeding, different fertilizer efficacies, the power of mulching, etc. In my Master Farmer's field, we have corn, millet, beans, hot pepper, eggplant, and rice. He has also planted the beginnings of a "live fence" (primarily thorny trees are trimmed short to make them bush out, then grow tall to keep all kinds of animals out) all around the inside of the fencing. And he has planted guava, lime, orange, mango, cashew, lucaena, and moringa within the field. Next week, for the first time, we will host a "field day". Approximately 100 farmers and NGO workers will come visit his field. He will explain why the technologies and techniques displayed work well (and, since they are demonstration plots, one can visibly SEE how they worked better than the traditional methods). Hopefully his friends and neighbors will take this information and put it into use in their own fields. Farmers teaching farmers is more effective than little white girl teaching farmers. ;)


• Universal Nut Sheller. Women here spend hours on end shelling peanuts. Literally, until their fingers bleed, all day, every day, from mid-November until the end of February. We are promoting a new type of manually operated machine that shells peanuts 41 times faster than a woman can by hand. That's right. In one hour, this machine can shell 50 kilos. And it would take 41 women to shell that same amount in that same time. If peanuts are shelled faster, that means that women have more time. More time to do things like garden. :) The machine is also very economical and an entire village can buy one, use it communally, and pay it off in no time at all.


• Some other random programs: fruit dryers (mango season is just so short...), potato fields (potatoes here are kind of tempermental), compressed fuel sources (using leaves and paper to make briquettes for cooking instead of using wood or charcoal), building wells and latrines (for increased sanitation)....

We are all over here in Senegal, saving trees and hugging babies...or saving babies and hugging trees... :) As we like to say, "Developing the s*#t out of Senegal!"

One year down, one to go.

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... ;)