Drum roll please...

For those of you who had conversations with me before I set off on my grand adventure, the conversations went something like this:

Me: "Hey, I'm going to Senegal"
You: "Wow! When are you going?"
Me: "I'll be gone for all of Fall Semester"
You: "Cool, what are you going to be doing there?"
Me: "Um...well, it's a study abroad program, so I'll be taking classes and at some point doing an internship."
You: "What will you be doing for your internship?"
Me: "Uhhhh....."

Okay, so now after many awkward conversations, and me not having answers to questions, I finally have the answers!

I already related some of the info about the classes we're taking and stuff, there are language classes (french and wolof), International Development, Environment, Research Methodology, etc. Okay, so now about the internship:

The last week of October, I will be moving to a village that is southeast of Dakar, just north of The Gambia. It is an "ecovillage" called Mbam, population somewhere around 1000 or so I hear. I have yet to discover what exactly and "ecovillage" is, although I have found out that it means that the village is involved in a lot of conservation programs to take care of the environment. I will be working with a grassroots organization called ASPOVERCE, which stands for *deep breath* : l’Association Populaire des Volontaires pour la Réhabilitation et la Conservation de l’Environnement. Translation: Grassroots Association of Volunteers for the Rehabilitation and Conservation of the Environment. What I will be doing for said organization has not been revealed yet, but I hear they have projects having to do with reforestion, biofuels, and other conservation topics.

So there's the answer to all of those predeparture questions that I was unable to answer. :)

Laundry adventures

Laundry detergent: 100 CFA
Bar of soap: 250 CFA
Dirty clothes: 0 CFA
Tap water: 0 CFA

Having the experience of washing clothes by hand and failing miserably: Priceless.

I have recently joined the "we do our laundry by hand" club.

And in this new club membership, I have found a deep respect and admiration for all the women and men around the world and throughout history who have every washed their clothes by hand. The following is an account of my first lesson in the ways of Senegalese laundry doing....

Seeing as I am in class every morning, I am restricted to doing my laundry at night, after I get home from school. So one evening, some ten days after I had arrived in Senegal, when most of my clothes were in desperate need of washing, I came home ready to attempt my laundry.

Having no idea what to do first, I approached my sister, Margo, saying "I'm ready, what's first?". She looked at me with a little amusment in her eyes, and got up. She left the room, and when she returned she had a bucket thing. "Clothes, first" she said. "Well duh," I thought, and took the bucket to my room and gathered all of my clothes. (Unmentionables are literally unmentionable here, so none of them were included in this washing extravaganza. If you would like to know how I wash my unmentionables, that's another story for another day) Okay, what's next? Margo asked me for 100 CFA (~$0.43 USD), and upon giving it to her, she gave it to Christoff who promptly ran across the street to a boutique to get me laundry soap. He returned with two packets of Madar, powdered detergant that is all-purpose and can be used for laundry, dish washing, or general cleaning. We lugged my clothes down the stairs to a faucet outside the bathroom, and started filling another bucket with water. "First, you seperate the lighter clothes from the darker ones," Margo said to me. Sweet, I thought, this is just like doing laundry at home!

Two buckets of water and packets of soap later, we each had a bucket of clothes and water in front of us. Oh and while all this is happening other members of the family are watching that day's entertainment of the toubab (white person) doing her laundry. Ignoring the audience, I tried to focus on the technique Margo was showing me. She had a bar of soap, and showed me how to lather the piece of clothing with it and then rub the fabric against itself to get it clean. Woah buddy, slow down a little. She did this with one of my shirts, then rung it out and put it in an empty bucket. "okay?" she asks. Ummmmm sure. As she rapidly started washing the clothes in her bucket, I clumsily tried to imitate the exact movements her hands were making. Let's just say that she finished her bucket before I finished mine, and mine had far less suds than hers. Whew, after that, we rinsed them all of their sudsiness, and squeezed out as much water as possible. Hint: the more water you squeeze out, the less there is to evaporate during the drying process.

Now with a bucket of wet and clean clothes, it was time to climb up to the third story to hang them. Trying not to think of how much my back was hurting from the washing activity, I reluctantly climbed two flights of stairs to the level where my brothers live. I had actually yet to visit this part of the house, because it's like my brothers' bachelor pad, and I just feel weird and imposing if I go up there. But the view is amazing from that high up, you can see downtown Dakar and practically the entire neighborhood. Back to laundry, Margo showed me how to shake eack piece out before putting it on the line. Thankfully she stayed to help, and in no time all of my clothes were blowing in the wind. Yay for a job well done! I immediately escaped to my room where I collapsed on my bed, thinking in disbelief about how people do this regularly.

Since that initial experience, I have washed my clothes ALL BY MYSELF! I'm pretty sure they aren't as clean as they would be if Margo helped me, and it definitely took a lot longer to do, but in the end they have been rid of their sweaty stench. I used to think that laundry day was rough because I had to lug my clothes down four flights of stairs (in the dorms) and fight for the usage of the laundry machines. But now I realize that I was a naive and ignorant soul. Never again will I complain about having to do laundry in America, not when there's a washing machine involved...

Cutting mangos in the dark

Oh my goodness, the internet and electricity are still working, so I'm taking the opportunity to post as much to this blog as I physically can before my fingers fall off...

Last week, I decided to by mangos for my family. Mangos are so delectably delicious that I eat one almost everyday and that day, I decided to share the love with my family. For those of you who weren't aware, mango is my absolutely favorite fruit in the whole entire world, and I am definitely thriving here in mango country. Anyway, there are three or fruit stands on the way to school everyday, so buying them is never a difficult task(unless the ones being offered aren't ripe). This day, I had to decide how many to buy: there are 13 other people at my house, plus whoever may be visiting...and if we say a two thirds of a mango for every person...mmm we'll go with 6. Luckily all the options were sufficiently squishy. Now, mangos are not expensive, so 1500 CFA later (~$3.40), I was on my way with a bag full of mangos. It's times like these that I wish I knew how to cart things around on my head like a true Senegalese. When I arrived home, I told my sisters that I had bought mangos for dessert, and smiled as their faces lit up.

After dinner, I went to my room and retrieved my precious mangos and brought them to the little area outside the kitchen. Not being familiar with the kitchen, seeing as I'm hardly ever allowed in there, I fumbled around to find an appropriate holding receptacle and cutting utensils. And after employing the help of my ten year old cousin Christoff, I did find them. So there we were sitting on the steps, holding mangos and knives, when what should happen? The electricity goes off. Again. Alrighty then. Well, why should a little darkness stop us? I put my mango down and went to find my cellphone and flashlight in my room. I now keep them both in convenient places because of this. (P.S. whoever designed my cellphone was a genius, because it has a built in flashlight that is ridiculously convenient in cities that don't have reliable electricity) Portable lights in hand, I returned to the steps where our mangos sat waiting to be cut. So in the meager lighting, Christoff and I started the long journey of cutting those mangos.

The mango is a unique fruit: skin thicker than an apple but thinner than an orange, a long flat and wide pit, and pulpy squishy juicy yet solid fruit. Even with the help of a knife, the task of eating a mango is never neat and clean. The first cut oozes with the sweet and sticky nectar, and proceeds to drip all over. The more involved you get the more nectar and pulp you are likely to get on your hands and under your fingernails. Each chunk cut from the skin or pit is slimey and slick, and if you aren't careful will slip right between your fingers. The lack of seeing ability was just an added challenge to make the whole game more fun. So there I was, plopped down on some stairs, next to a ten year old senegalese boy, cutting mangos in the dark, trying desperately not to drop any pieces or get mango juice on my skirt. Conversation was slim, as we were both concentrating, but everytime something got dropped or juice spilled, snickers could be heard from both of our mouths.

In the end, the fruit is the reward for all the hard work. And believe me, the sweet and tangy treat couldn't be a better reward. All of that painstaking cutting is worth it when you get to sink your teeth into the juicy morsels, overwhelming your taste buds with tangy goodness. What's more is that evening, I got the added reward of sharing the experience with my family. I'm pretty sure there is no one in this world that doesn't enjoy a good mango.

As I was sitting there in the dark, covered in sticky mangoness, I started to think about how me moving to Senegal is a lot like that experience. (Forgive me and my analogies, but that's just how I roll) I was thinking about how I had eaten countless mangos over the last couple of weeks, and yet every one was as challenging as the previous one. Each mango is just as sticky and messy and hard to eat. Moving to another country and immersing myself in a completely new culture is hard. I've been to other places before, and am far from being ignorant about world travel. I think that I underestimated the effect of culture shock because I figured I had done it before, so I could do it again no problem. But it was just as sticky and messy as the last mango. When I first got here, it was like trying to figure out how to do something familiar in the dark. But the longer I sat in the dark with those mangos, the easier it got to cut them and not worry about getting messy. The longer I've been here in Senegal, the easier it's gotten to figure out my way around and not worry about making mistakes or having awkward moments (goodness knows I've had plenty of those).

And that's about all I have to say about that.

P.S. It was so hot yesterday, I could see my fingers sweat.

Trauma and drama

Yesterday, my friend Eva and I were walking home together when we had a rather unfortunate incident. We don't normally walk together, but she wanted to see vaguely where I live in comparison to her house. It was a fairly pleasant day (hot hot hot as usual), and we were just strolling along talking about whatever. Next thing I know, Eva's being pulled away from me by her bag, which had been grabbed by this guy on a moped. It happened so stinking fast that I honestly didn't have time to process what was going on. But instinctively I threw out my arm to grab her so that she wouldn't get pulled away. Oh man. Luckily she kept a good grip on the bag, and I kept a good grip on her, so neither the bag nor Eva went anywhere. This was the first time we had been that close to being stolen from. What happened was these two guys on a moped zipped past us as we were crossing through an intersection, and the guy on the back grabbed at Eva's bag. Though both traumatized and shaken up, we were both safe and fairly sound. When I got home, I told the tale to my family with a combination of French and gestures. They watched and listened as I replayed the whole thing (it was difficult to find the words in french to accurately describe the actions and emotions, thus the use of waving arms and overexaggerated facial expressions was necessary), with wide eyes and gasps of disbelief. My family has been very protective of me, warning me everytime I leave the house to be wary of thieves and aware of my bag and pockets at all times. It's starting to be a little frustrating and tiring to have to protect my belongings all the time. Especially since I'm trying to call this place home, it's hard to always have to keep it in the front of my mind that there are tons of people out there who could/will try to steal from me.

whew what a day.

So there's tons of stories and experiences that I need to share, and I'm going to try to get them all posted this week. You can either expect lots of posts in the next week or so, or absolutely none, depending on whether the electricity and internet cooperate.....................................

and now for the local news...

Good evening and welcome to tonight's edition of your local Senegalese news. Let's jump right in to today's headlines:



"Fierce battle against mosquitos and flies rages on." --It seems as though there will never be an end to the war against flying insects here in Dakar. Fighting persists on two main battle fronts, and it is not looking good for the humans. The two main offenders are the flies and mosquitos, and though they have different offensive strategies they are each a force to be reckoned with. While the flies are relatively powerless as individuals, they seemed to have taken up a strategy of strength in numbers, and attacking during the day. The mosquitos on the other hand have been implementing their war strategy in the usage of stealth technology. It seems as though they have developped the capability approach their victims without being seen or heard. We'll keep you posted on this breaking news as the story develops.



"Classes have commenced at West African Research Center" --Classes at WARC have started for the 17 students in the Minnesota Studies in International Development Program. These Americans are into their second week of intense classwork before being set loose into the rest of Senegal. Classes include International Development (accompanied by tracks in Environmental Studies, Health, Education, Microbusiness, and Literature), Country Analysis of Senegal, Language courses in Wolof and French, and Research Methodology. These courses will be given for the duration of 7 weeks, and include field trips of all sorts. The students are already being challenged, and are intrigued to see where the classes will take them.



"Blackouts and failure of internet frequent and unwanted" --Dakar has been struck by a series of blackouts much to its inhabitants' dismay. At least once a day, different regions are left without electricity for extended amounts of time. One resident tells us that often times it will go off at night and still won't be on come morning. She also told us that they just have to cope with not having lights or internet access, which can be frustrating to say the least. There is still hope though that once it comes back, maybe it will stay...



"Cockroaches throw surprise party in shower" --Last week, the cockroaches who inhabit the shower of the Gomis Residence in Dakar threw a surprise party for one of the showerers in the house. Amy Brown, the american student living with the Gomis family, said that she is used to taking showers with Abbot and Costello, the two cockroaches normally found in the shower. "One night last week" Amy tells us,"I turned on the light and there were five or six of them hanging out on the wall..." When asked about her reaction, she says that she just shrugged and turned on the water.



And now for the Weather:

As Senegal is now reaching the end of the rainy season, there have been fewer and fewer storms. Whether or not this is a good thing is debatable, because the sun has been shining its scorching rays without break for several days now. Temperatures hover somewhere in the high eighties to low nineties and the humidity is fairly consistent in the very high percentages. Keep those cold showers coming...



Health and Wellness:

This week we talked to Amy Brown about what it's like to live in Dakar from a health standpoint. Here is a segment of her interview:

"Well, so far I have stayed completely healthy...I take my vitamins and malaria pill everyday, and they both seem to be working fine. It was an adjustment to get used to the diet here, because it's very high in carbs with a little protein and a tiny bit of fruits and vegetables. But I make an effort to have fresh fruit everyday for lunch, and that seems to be going just great, the fruit is just so good here! Besides that I walk for an hour everyday to and from school, so I'm getting exercise and a WONDERFUL tan at that..."



Well folks, that's all we have time for this evening. Thanks for tuning in, and if you have any questions or comments about any of the stories seen on our broadcast, feel free to email us at artmus987@gmail.com



We hope you are enjoying your day and ask that you join us next time to hear about these stories:

Cars Rapides: Killing machines or efficient transport?

American students wandering aimlessly in Dakar and how they found their way out.

Where the house cats run wild and the cactus grows free

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the comments and encouragement, it is helping me so much!

Anyway...It is kind of hard to keep up the blog, just becaus there is sooooooo much to write about, so some of this stuff you'll be getting in time lag....other stuff you'll just have to wait til I get home to hear about, but I'm doing my very very best.

The other day we went to Goree, an island off the tip of the Dakar peninsula. It is this cute little island with just over a thousand inhabitants. It is a huge tourist destination and I heard some people describe it as having a very caribbean feel. I wouldn't know, but it does have a fun atmosphere with amazing buildings (white with red tile roofs) and lots of bright colors. Upon arriving on the ferry, we began a tour of the island with a local guy wearing aviators and a Che Guevara tshirt. First stop was La Maison d'Esclaves (House of Slaves). Back in the day, this island was a major part of the slave trade, seeing as it is on the very very western coast of Africa. It was used as kind of the send-off island for the Africans who were being shipped to the Americas. This "house" was used as a holding building before the people were literally packed onto a boat and shipped off. We saw the little rooms where they kept the men, women, and children (all seperated), and heard about how they went through this weighing process and stuff to make sure they were good enough. It honestly sounded like a factory farm or something where they would pick out the best cows to be sent to the meat packing plant. The rooms where the men were kept could not have been bigger than your average dorm room, and they said they would keep 15-20 men in there. It was definitely way intense to see part of the Slavery story from the other perspective...

Next stop was the only church on the island. It is, in fact, the oldest Catholic Church in Senegal: This cute little one room building with wooden pews that you couldn't sit more that 50 people in at one time. The colors inside reflected everything else on the island: bright and beautiful. It is still used for services to this day, but don't worry they have updated the building since the 1700s with electricity and things like that.

Next we walked up to the highest point of the island where you can see Dakar and in the other direction the endless infinity of the ocean. (America lies somewhere out there...actually, on another excursion we were at the point farthest west on the African continent, and were told that if we wanted to swim home, that would be the place to jump in. Though tempting, I decided to stick out the rest of the three months instead of drowning somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic) On the trek up the hill, the paths were lined with brightly colored paintings and other art work that Senegalese make their livings off of. And by this point, we were being followed by a couple of guys trying to sell us these musical instruments. It was like our trip was being turned into a musical...At the top of the hill, there is this corner where an artist works and creates these beautiful sand art things. We got to peek in and see a demonstration: He explained that all the sand they use is naturally colored, and each color comes from a different beach somewhere. They were all these beautiful reds and browns, blacks and greys, and the pictures were gorgeous in the end.

Then it was time to trek back down the hill and head to the history museum, which in all honesty was not your typical museum. It was this circular building, with a courtyard in the center, and all these rooms connected to each other with random artifacts and info about Senegal's history. It was pretty cool, and somewhat informative, but at this point we were all sweaty, hot, and famished. Time for lunch! We ate at this little restaurant, where the food was good and plenty, the water cold, and the cats numerous. No joke, this island has seriously been invaded by a troop of wild house cats. We didn't really notice until we were sitting down and all of a sudden they were surrounding our feet. Short ones, skinny ones, tall ones, fat ones, and every color too. It took them til the end of the meal to realize that they were indeed not going to get any food from us. When we finished we went and hung out at the beach, most of us were too tired to really do anything, but some went swimming and others went shopping. As the rest of us sat there, vendors and merchants would park themselves next to us trying to sell us everything from earrings and necklaces to baseball caps and tribal masks. I was actually really tempted to buy this one tribal mask, because the vendor was super persuasive and offering a really really good price. But common sense got the better of me after I realized that it would take up a quarter of my suitcase and add 10 lbs of unnecessary weight. So sorry Tim, no tribal mask for you...

That's all I have time for right now, I do realize that this is a lot, but you wouldn't believe how much more I could talk about.

But just so you all know, I am still alive and kicking!

more later, much love

amb

Ma famille accueillante

On my family...

Tuesday was the highly anticipated day of meeting our host families. We got picked up at our hotel in our original airconditioned bus (yes!), and went immediately to the bank. Seeing as all of us only had American dollars on us, this was very very helpful. Currency here is in CFA, and the exchange rate on Tuesday was 437 Franc CFA=$1 American. Let's just say it's been an adjustment to hear that a 1.5 litre bottle of water is 400 CFA...it sounds like a lot, but is really less than a dollar. That was actually the next stop: Mineral Water. One thing that has been stressed here is don't drink the tap water! I hear that you can try to slowly break yourself into it, and then be able to drink it all the time. But one of the other students tried taking just a sip, and in her words, "it was NOT a good experience". I think I'll stick to my bottles.

After getting water, we were dropped off one by one. One by one left in a stranger's home. One by one abandoned by the only familiar faces in the country. Waly and Josephine refused to tell us who was next until we arrived at each house, to prevent us from getting too nervous. It actually worked, because when my name was called, after 9 before me had been dropped off, I was not mentally prepared. As I stumbled off the bus, my luggage was tossed down off the roof and carried inside. I timidly walked inside, to meet my Senegalese mother two steps inside. Maman Jacqueline is her name, and at this point I only really see her when I come and go out of the house. She is the one to make sure I eat before I go every morning and that I locked my bedroom door before leaving. Next I met Marguerite (Margo), one of my sisters, who is probably in her early twenties. I found out on the first day that she's the one who does most of the housework and cooking for the entire family along with my other sister Marie-Therese. Marie-Therese is the oldest of all my siblings and she's in her early thirties (31 or 32?). Next in line is Leon, Bart, Benjamin, and Alexandre in some age order, Margo, and Eduoard is the youngest at around 13 or 14. The boys all live on the third floor, and I hardly ever see them at all. The girls live on the second floor with me (though I do have my own room). Beyond that, Grandma lives downstairs, but she's been sick and I've seen her maybe twice so far. There are also three others right now, who I hear are only here for vacation, but I don't know how they are exactly related to the family and I don't know when they're leaving... Ironically the two teenage girls and ten year old boy are the ones I see the most besides Margo.

My family is Catholic, which is really cool, especially since this week marked the beginning of Ramadan, so the Muslim families all fast during the day.

That's all I have time for right now, but I surely do miss everyone and appreciate all the emails and notes of encouragement!

Love always,
amb

nanga def?

On language...

The most common African tribe here is the Wolof, so most people, even in Dakar are Wolof. There is a lot of cultural and linguistic significance in this. Living in a city dominated by Wolof means that EVERYONE speaks Wolof as their first and primary language. My family speaks Wolof to each other, the people on the street speak Wolof, my professors speak Wolof when they talk to each other, etc. This is a little overwhelming when I only speak English and French. But most (and by most I mean everyone except maybe super duper poor people), speak French as well. And then a select few speak English as well. So the order of language from most common to least is Wolof, French, English...As one of my classes, I am learning to speak Wolof. It's kind of difficult because it's way different from English and French and Spanish, in that there's no real grammatical structure. And there is no set spelling. It's all oral. Which, for some one who learns visually, like me, is difficult to catch on to. So far we've gotten through basic greetings and such. So seeing someone on the street, your conversation might go something like this...

-Salaam aleikum (this is just your basic muslim greeting...)
--Malekum salaam (...and response)
-Nanga def? (~How are you?)
--Mangi fi rekk (~I am well)

and so on and so on. Who knows, maybe when I get back home I'll be trilingual! (this is merely my optimism shining through the extreme difficulty of learning the language)

It is like being tossed into the deep end when I have a hard enough time trying to get by with my french and then being immersed in a completely different language as well...woah baby, talk about linguistic overload.

Bonjour mes amis

Hello everyone,

This would be my first entry from Senegal. *sigh*

After a long day of travel on Sunday, I met up with the other MSIDers at JFK before boarding the plane that would take us away from everything we have ever known. The flights were all fine, no one was sitting next to me for the long one, so I had a little space to stretch my legs. A couple of movies and naps later, we arrived in Dakar around 6 in the morning local time. Stepping of the plane was like walking into a sauna, before the sun was even up it felt like one of the hottest days we experience in Minnesota. Right now is the end of the rainy season, which means that not only is it hot, but it's HUMID. I honestly have sweat more so far than I ever have in my entire life. We piled onto a bus, took a short ride to the airport (we had gotten off planeside), and then found ourselves crowded into a little customs area. It took a while to get through, just for the shear number of people that had gotten off the plane with us. But we were all allowed to enter the country, and walked through a set of doors to get to the baggage claim. Yay! both my bags were there. In fact out of 15 of us, only one suitcase got lost, and Robbie finally got it yesterday.

Leaving the baggage claim, we found Josephine, one of the MSID assistants. She is a cute little Senegalese, who has been doing everything for us. The walk out to the bus was constantly being interrupted by men who wanted to help us with our luggage. After fighting the crowds, we met Waly, one of the MSID coordinators who was waiting with our bus. Much to some of the others' dismay, our luggage was all of a sudden being tossed on top of the bus. We piled on the bus, after being assured that the bags would be okay, and were promptly given bottles of water, bags of food, and our itinerary for the week. Thankfully, our first stop was the hotel where we were able to rest and shower until noon.

That afternoon we went over to the house of Maman Onorine, one of the other MSID staff. She's like our Program mother who feeds us, lectures us, and make us dance. We met three other students there who had come at the beginning of August for a Presession. Sitting under a tent on the roof, we listened as Waly and Josephine talked about MSID and so on. Then we took a break to drink a juice made from Hibiscus nectar, and dance african style with Maman Onorine. Then it was time for lunch. Meals here are traditionally served in one big bowl, and everyone eats around it. Each person has their own little section of which they are responsible to eat out of. The meal is typically rice or couscous with some sort of meat (generally fish), sauce, and maybe vegetables. You eat with your fingers and form the rice into a ball before tossing it into your mouth. This was the first lunch we had in Senegal. After lunch we listened as Mamah Onorine offered some advice of living with host families. Then we took a break to go to the beach before dinner.

By the end of the day, we were all pooped to say the least, and were happy to be returned to our hotel. The next day, Tuesday, would be the day we moved in with our host families.........

That's all I have time to write for now, but I will write more as soon as I can.

Miss you all tons!!