So I'm back in Seattle, after about 30 hours of traveling and a few days after. I'm still getting used to US time, but I have to admit - I'm really glad to be back here. I thought reverse culture shock would be more of a problem, although I definitely am experiencing it to a certain degree - like, for example, I'm totally frustrated with the American standard of beauty versus beauty in Senegal, which is more about self-expression than holding yourself to an anorexic, unrealistic, and unhealthy ideal. It's really just being able to look at the US with something concrete to compare it to, and I think if anything, it's a good thing. My conception of feminism has changed a lot too, because I've realized that you can't impose western ideas of feminism on Senegal or any other country, really. But I've also noticed that in the US, women are more likely to say that they aren't feminists and to sincerely believe that we've made "enough" strides for equality that we don't need to make anymore. And I'm totally frustrated that some people say things like, "Oh, maybe we just aren't ready for a woman/black/not white Protestant male president."
Newsflash. Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan, anyone?
Seriously. Pakistan beat us to it. Bangladesh. Finland.
I guess that living in another country has made me realize that the US way isn't always the best way, when it comes to women's rights or anything else.
I still love it here, and I still love Christmas, and I still love my family. And I definitely like smooth roads and seatbelts and vegetables and stuff.
But seriously America, we are at such a position to do good in the world. We should fight global warming and genocide because we CAN. We have the resources to do it.
And as for a woman president, if Pakistan can do it, then we can too.
Nothing like traveling abroad to make you develop a love-hate relationship with your own country. I do love America, I just think that we could be doing a lot better. Because going abroad has made me realize that changing the world is SO possible, which makes me feel so optimistic and frustrated at the same time.
It's a journey.
I'll add the rest of my photos in the coming days.
There's no place like home.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Coming Home
Tonight I'm leaving Dakar and heading home after 3 and a half months abroad. I'm really excited to go home and see my family and friends, but I know there are things I'm going to miss about Senegal, like getting an espresso for 40 cents on the street and being able to bargain for the price I want when I go to the markets, which I did, yesterday, in a mad attempt to get all of my post-departure shopping (aka Christmas presents) done. I went to Sandaga, one of the biggest, busiest markets downtown, where I bought the last presents I needed to buy and a ridiculous pair of sparkly green flats that are Chinese, terrible quality, and cost me 4 dollars, but are really pretty...
I also ate dinner at my old boarding house with my old housemates. It was nice to see everyone again, especially the old woman who runs the house, because she's a wonderful person and it was her birthday the day before. The other boarders - a crazy musician, a Canadian student who's doing a journalism internship here, and another guy who I think is visiting from somewhere else in Senegal saw us to the door, and we all shook hands with our left hands (which you're not supposed to do normally, because of what left hands are intended for in many countries), which is what you do when you'll hope you'll see the other person again.
This morning I went to see my host family and was able to catch a few of them at home, my host mom was getting ready to go to a baptism and two of my host brothers were home, as well as their maid, who is really funny and who I really like even though I can't really talk to her because she only speaks Wolof.
We went to the 500 CFA ceebu jen place again for lunch and said good-bye to the woman who runs it, and then had ice cream at a place nearby.
Tomorrow night I'll be back in Seattle, which is exciting and wonderful, but I will miss Senegal. I told my host mom I would come back to visit, inch'allah.
I also ate dinner at my old boarding house with my old housemates. It was nice to see everyone again, especially the old woman who runs the house, because she's a wonderful person and it was her birthday the day before. The other boarders - a crazy musician, a Canadian student who's doing a journalism internship here, and another guy who I think is visiting from somewhere else in Senegal saw us to the door, and we all shook hands with our left hands (which you're not supposed to do normally, because of what left hands are intended for in many countries), which is what you do when you'll hope you'll see the other person again.
This morning I went to see my host family and was able to catch a few of them at home, my host mom was getting ready to go to a baptism and two of my host brothers were home, as well as their maid, who is really funny and who I really like even though I can't really talk to her because she only speaks Wolof.
We went to the 500 CFA ceebu jen place again for lunch and said good-bye to the woman who runs it, and then had ice cream at a place nearby.
Tomorrow night I'll be back in Seattle, which is exciting and wonderful, but I will miss Senegal. I told my host mom I would come back to visit, inch'allah.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Oops
To get anywhere in Dakar, you have to take a taxi, a car rapide (truck turned minibus decorated with religious symbols and lots of color), an Ndiaga Ndiaye (ancient white Mercedes minibuses that are like car rapides but less interesting), or the bright blue Dakar Demm Dikk city buses. And with the exception of the city buses, each one of these vehicles is driven crazily through the streets of the city as the driver takes weird shortcuts onto sandy side streets or through parking lots, narrowly misses hitting other cars, stops just short of running over a pedestrian (or two, or three, or a whole crowd including babies and goats), and sometimes they drive on the sidewalk, if there is one.
But it was not until tonight that I have ever been in a vehicle where the crazy driving wasn’t controlled. Around 9, after seeing some friends’ art on display at the National Arts Village, a friend and I hailed a cab to head back to the boarding house for dinner (because we didn’t want Baye to be sad if we missed it) and after nearly having our feet run over by the driver, who was so appalled at the 2000 CFA we offered him that he screeched off without saying a word, we crossed two busy lanes of traffic in the dark and hailed a second taxi, the driver of which also overcharged us, but we were in a hurry to get home so we hopped in. Not two minutes later, our driver almost killed a policeman who was directing traffic, and, knowing full well that he was going to be arrested for it, fled the scene, lurching onto a side street (one of the sandy ones) in full police-chase mode, and I realized that we were in a dangerous situation. The car was literally out of control, but lucky for me, the streets in Dakar aren’t always well-maintained, especially the little roads that aren’t frequented by cars, so there was a foot-high rock in the middle of the road that our ever-so-courteous driver smacked right into, flinging us up in our seats but fortunately bringing the taxi to stop, albeit a loud, smoky, crunchy one. As soon as this happened, we got out, and my friend noticed the cab driver duck out and start sprinting away from the car (again with the not wanting to be arrested). We were instantly surrounded by a group of people, asking us what happened—to which I could only say, “He almost broke someone”—while a Senegalese woman patted my back and asked us if we were okay, where we lived, and told us to take a new taxi home.
The car, the front part crushed onto the rock and leaking oil, was surrounded by people, onlookers and a policeman, to which we asked if we had to give a statement or something, but he only looked at us concernedly—“You were in the car?!”—asked us if we were all right, said we could go home, and even helped us get another taxi back to our house.
Oh yeah, and the driver left all of his money in the car when he ran off.
So, in sum:
1. I was in a taxi in which I witnessed a crime and evasion of arrest.
2. Aside from bumping my elbow, I’m okay, and so is the friend I was with.
3. Thank god for that rock in the road, or who knows what this man would have done?
4. Yet another reminder that Senegalese people are nice, especially to toubabs who have just gotten into a car accident and as a result can’t find their French.
5. The driver probably didn’t have the proper documentation to drive a taxi, which would have made his arrest even worse, and which probably caused him to leave his earnings when he fled.
5. Next time I’m in a taxi/car rapide/Ndiaga Ndiaye driven by a crazy driver of the ordinary Senegalese variety, I’ll heave a sigh of relief.
I came to Senegal for an adventure, and I’d say that qualifies. I’m glad to be alive and writing about this in the past tense.
But it was not until tonight that I have ever been in a vehicle where the crazy driving wasn’t controlled. Around 9, after seeing some friends’ art on display at the National Arts Village, a friend and I hailed a cab to head back to the boarding house for dinner (because we didn’t want Baye to be sad if we missed it) and after nearly having our feet run over by the driver, who was so appalled at the 2000 CFA we offered him that he screeched off without saying a word, we crossed two busy lanes of traffic in the dark and hailed a second taxi, the driver of which also overcharged us, but we were in a hurry to get home so we hopped in. Not two minutes later, our driver almost killed a policeman who was directing traffic, and, knowing full well that he was going to be arrested for it, fled the scene, lurching onto a side street (one of the sandy ones) in full police-chase mode, and I realized that we were in a dangerous situation. The car was literally out of control, but lucky for me, the streets in Dakar aren’t always well-maintained, especially the little roads that aren’t frequented by cars, so there was a foot-high rock in the middle of the road that our ever-so-courteous driver smacked right into, flinging us up in our seats but fortunately bringing the taxi to stop, albeit a loud, smoky, crunchy one. As soon as this happened, we got out, and my friend noticed the cab driver duck out and start sprinting away from the car (again with the not wanting to be arrested). We were instantly surrounded by a group of people, asking us what happened—to which I could only say, “He almost broke someone”—while a Senegalese woman patted my back and asked us if we were okay, where we lived, and told us to take a new taxi home.
The car, the front part crushed onto the rock and leaking oil, was surrounded by people, onlookers and a policeman, to which we asked if we had to give a statement or something, but he only looked at us concernedly—“You were in the car?!”—asked us if we were all right, said we could go home, and even helped us get another taxi back to our house.
Oh yeah, and the driver left all of his money in the car when he ran off.
So, in sum:
1. I was in a taxi in which I witnessed a crime and evasion of arrest.
2. Aside from bumping my elbow, I’m okay, and so is the friend I was with.
3. Thank god for that rock in the road, or who knows what this man would have done?
4. Yet another reminder that Senegalese people are nice, especially to toubabs who have just gotten into a car accident and as a result can’t find their French.
5. The driver probably didn’t have the proper documentation to drive a taxi, which would have made his arrest even worse, and which probably caused him to leave his earnings when he fled.
5. Next time I’m in a taxi/car rapide/Ndiaga Ndiaye driven by a crazy driver of the ordinary Senegalese variety, I’ll heave a sigh of relief.
I came to Senegal for an adventure, and I’d say that qualifies. I’m glad to be alive and writing about this in the past tense.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Christmas & 500 CFA ceebu jen
Today I listened to Christmas music while I recorded some interview notes from last week, and it occurred to me that this is pretty much the only preparation for Christmas that I've had. Senegal being a Muslim country, you're unlikely to encounter Christmas music in stores and on the radio, after-Thanksgiving Christmas shopping sales, stocking stuffer commercials on TV, Christmas movies on TV, or even decorations and painted windows in shops. And by unlikely, I mean it just won't be there, although there is one shop near SIT (frequented by non-locals, I should add) that has had its windows decked out for Christmas and 2008 for several weeks, which is just jarring beside the sandy streets and hot weather in Dakar. When I get back to the US (in three weeks!), I think I'll be ready to see America's more garish displays of holiday cheer once more.
Yesterday I found out that you can get a chocolate and banana sandwich on French bread for about 25 cents from a little kiosk near my boarding house (where I've gotten used to sheep on the roof and doing my laundry on the roof by hand and all the sounds of the city). And a delicious lunch for a dollar in a little restaurant/shack near school. The woman who runs it is really friendly and doesn't seem to speak much French, and it's frequented only by Senegalese. Every weekday she makes two dishes you can choose from, and then you get to drink tap water (and not get sick! - because I've been here for a long time now) and try to speak Wolof with the other patrons.
Senegal is fun once you've been here a while and know your way around and can drink the water without getting sick and aren't afraid of street food. It was good before, but being able to do more authentic things - like eating lunch in a shack at a communal table - makes it much better.
I should add that ceebu jen - rice and fish - is the national dish of Senegal and what pretty much everyone eats for lunch. 500 CFA is a dollar in Senegalese currency. And getting really good ceebu jen for 500 CFA - well, that's a good reason to come to Senegal in the first place.
Yesterday I found out that you can get a chocolate and banana sandwich on French bread for about 25 cents from a little kiosk near my boarding house (where I've gotten used to sheep on the roof and doing my laundry on the roof by hand and all the sounds of the city). And a delicious lunch for a dollar in a little restaurant/shack near school. The woman who runs it is really friendly and doesn't seem to speak much French, and it's frequented only by Senegalese. Every weekday she makes two dishes you can choose from, and then you get to drink tap water (and not get sick! - because I've been here for a long time now) and try to speak Wolof with the other patrons.
Senegal is fun once you've been here a while and know your way around and can drink the water without getting sick and aren't afraid of street food. It was good before, but being able to do more authentic things - like eating lunch in a shack at a communal table - makes it much better.
I should add that ceebu jen - rice and fish - is the national dish of Senegal and what pretty much everyone eats for lunch. 500 CFA is a dollar in Senegalese currency. And getting really good ceebu jen for 500 CFA - well, that's a good reason to come to Senegal in the first place.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
From HLM Fass
I'm now living in a boarding house in a neighborhood called Fass. It's close to the university and SIT, and it's run by a wonderful old woman named Baye. It's pink and yellow and has three floors, with a courtyard in the middle and the best view of Dakar I've ever seen is what you see from the roof, if you're not too distracted by the pen full of sheep up there. That's right, there are sheep on the roof of my house, along with a few rooms for boarders and communal laundry lines. There are a lot of boarders, and it's nice to be in a place where I can talk to people who speak French but where I don't have to worry about what time I come home; it's definitely better for ISP period anyway, although I miss my homestay a lot! Outside, there's the grossest-smelling canal in Dakar (because it's basically a garbage/raw sewage drop-off spot), but at least I know that when I smell the canal, I'm in the right place. I'm living with three other students from the program, and a fourth one will be joining us in about two weeks. It's really really strange living with other Americans again after living in a host family. Sometimes I actually get tired of speaking English and talking about American things when I want to practice my French and actually be in Senegal. I hope I get used to it before I come home!
ISP is weird. I've been hanging out with medical students at the university, mostly my host sister's friends, and it's been really interesting to see the university system/situation up close. The campus is HUGE, it makes Smith look like a quaint little traffic circle or something. There are several entrances lined with people selling snacks, passport photos, bookbags, clothes, shoes, notebooks, homemade bissap and bouye juice, and the use of the copy machines in the little shacks they sell things from. The buildings are almost all concrete, and some of the dorms look a little like they're falling apart. There are palm trees and taxis driving through the campus at all times, and a lot of students. They're all really young-looking, and most of them wear western-style clothes; some girls are veiled. There are also a lot of foreign students, so I don't really stick out too much when I'm there.
The medical school (which also houses pharmacy school and some other schools I can't remember) is actually in a large and beautiful building with a tiled facade and columns and has directional signs, which is really weird to see. My favorite place thus far is a "garden" outside the medical school that is basically just a lot with some trees on it, and some concrete benches that are so tall your feet dangle from them. It's a nice place to sit in the shade when you're waiting to interview your informants.
I have less than a month left here in Senegal, so I'm trying to get the most out of it. On Saturday, I went back to Goree Island with one of my friends from the program, and we went to the beach and to the market, where women say things like, "Come to my shop, good price!" in English and "Elle est ma cherie - She is my lovely" to us while we look at the jewelry they're selling, and then charge us exorbitant prices for the jewelry, because they're used to tourists. Then we had a wonderful dinner in a less tourist-full (if that is possible on Goree, which it's not really) restaurant, and saw "Persepolis" for free as part of Goree's Diaspora Festival. It was great, although I didn't catch all of the dialogue (it was in French), so I'll have to see it again when I'm back in the States.
It was really weird going to Goree a second time. The boat over was full of more tourists than usual, probably because of the diaspora festival, and honestly it was really strange to see so many white people (I've been in Africa for two and a half months), it was even weirder seeing obese people. That's not really a problem in Senegal. Coming back on the boat, it occurred to me that most tourists probably visit Goree, go to the beach and the House of Slaves (hopefully, because it's kind of the reason to go there), buy a quilted bag in a stereotypically "African" print (men with spears, anyone?), and head back to their nice hotels in Dakar. This is what you do when you're a tourist, and I've definitely done that before, in other countries. But that really hasn't been my experience here in Senegal, and I'm grateful for the difference.
As I said, I have less than a month left. It's weird and sad and good to know that I'll be home in a short time. Also, Thanksgiving is this week and I'm in Senegal, where you can't even buy a turkey that isn't pre-plucked...or, I think, pre-slaughtered for that matter. There are a lot of things I have to do before I go home, including an increasingly complicated independent research project. Oh well - petit-d-petit, l'oiseau fait son nid.
ISP is weird. I've been hanging out with medical students at the university, mostly my host sister's friends, and it's been really interesting to see the university system/situation up close. The campus is HUGE, it makes Smith look like a quaint little traffic circle or something. There are several entrances lined with people selling snacks, passport photos, bookbags, clothes, shoes, notebooks, homemade bissap and bouye juice, and the use of the copy machines in the little shacks they sell things from. The buildings are almost all concrete, and some of the dorms look a little like they're falling apart. There are palm trees and taxis driving through the campus at all times, and a lot of students. They're all really young-looking, and most of them wear western-style clothes; some girls are veiled. There are also a lot of foreign students, so I don't really stick out too much when I'm there.
The medical school (which also houses pharmacy school and some other schools I can't remember) is actually in a large and beautiful building with a tiled facade and columns and has directional signs, which is really weird to see. My favorite place thus far is a "garden" outside the medical school that is basically just a lot with some trees on it, and some concrete benches that are so tall your feet dangle from them. It's a nice place to sit in the shade when you're waiting to interview your informants.
I have less than a month left here in Senegal, so I'm trying to get the most out of it. On Saturday, I went back to Goree Island with one of my friends from the program, and we went to the beach and to the market, where women say things like, "Come to my shop, good price!" in English and "Elle est ma cherie - She is my lovely" to us while we look at the jewelry they're selling, and then charge us exorbitant prices for the jewelry, because they're used to tourists. Then we had a wonderful dinner in a less tourist-full (if that is possible on Goree, which it's not really) restaurant, and saw "Persepolis" for free as part of Goree's Diaspora Festival. It was great, although I didn't catch all of the dialogue (it was in French), so I'll have to see it again when I'm back in the States.
It was really weird going to Goree a second time. The boat over was full of more tourists than usual, probably because of the diaspora festival, and honestly it was really strange to see so many white people (I've been in Africa for two and a half months), it was even weirder seeing obese people. That's not really a problem in Senegal. Coming back on the boat, it occurred to me that most tourists probably visit Goree, go to the beach and the House of Slaves (hopefully, because it's kind of the reason to go there), buy a quilted bag in a stereotypically "African" print (men with spears, anyone?), and head back to their nice hotels in Dakar. This is what you do when you're a tourist, and I've definitely done that before, in other countries. But that really hasn't been my experience here in Senegal, and I'm grateful for the difference.
As I said, I have less than a month left. It's weird and sad and good to know that I'll be home in a short time. Also, Thanksgiving is this week and I'm in Senegal, where you can't even buy a turkey that isn't pre-plucked...or, I think, pre-slaughtered for that matter. There are a lot of things I have to do before I go home, including an increasingly complicated independent research project. Oh well - petit-d-petit, l'oiseau fait son nid.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Funny Story
So sometimes I take the bus from Ouakam to and from school in Point E. It costs about 40 cents and takes about 40 minutes, and it's always incredibly crowded unless you catch it at the terminus, but even then you've got to put your bag down on your seat to save it and fight the line to pay the cashier your 150 CFA. If you don't get a seat, you get to hang onto a pole and try not to fall down. But this is usually not a problem, as you are surrounded by people on all sides. On the bus ride, you pass the embassies for Madagascar and Indonesia, Suffolk University's Dakar campus, and a bunch of stalls where people sell things to stopped traffic. There's also a monkey that belongs to someone near there who is always tied up in a tree.
A few days ago I took the bus home as per usual, was really glad to not fall over at all, and finally secured a seat as we entered my quartier (but not my neighborhood) when I heard this great big bang! Now, being a silly American, I instantly thought that a bomb had exploded on the bus or something. But it turned out that the cashier's cash box had fallen onto the floor, and a group of people were helping him pick up the coins. Then I started smelling smoke, consequently was worried, and asked a woman, "Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"
"Pneu creve," she said - flat tire. I was really glad to hear this. As I descended the bus with the rest of the passengers, I saw the busted tire, and I also noticed that everyone was getting off the bus. So there we were, this parade of displaced bus passengers, and everyone walked home. No one stuck around to wait for the tire to get fixed, or even to get another bus. We were all close enough to our houses. There were business people, students, women in elegant boubous - I was definitely the only white person (it's not as weird as you'd think) - and no one seemed upset. They just got off the bus and went on their way.
As I walked to my house through the dusty streets, past tailors and stalls and garbage piles and kids playing soccer in a large field, it occurred to me that this would never happen in the US. People would be so angry if a bus got a flat tire. They would probably stick around and wait for it to get fixed - demand that it be fixed. They might wait around to see if another bus would show up. They might call a friend or relative to come pick them up. They might call a cab company. They might threaten to send an angry letter to the local government. But they certainly wouldn't walk home. And that is exactly what my fellow commuters - and I - did. And I thought to myself, this country is pretty amazing.
A few days ago I took the bus home as per usual, was really glad to not fall over at all, and finally secured a seat as we entered my quartier (but not my neighborhood) when I heard this great big bang! Now, being a silly American, I instantly thought that a bomb had exploded on the bus or something. But it turned out that the cashier's cash box had fallen onto the floor, and a group of people were helping him pick up the coins. Then I started smelling smoke, consequently was worried, and asked a woman, "Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"
"Pneu creve," she said - flat tire. I was really glad to hear this. As I descended the bus with the rest of the passengers, I saw the busted tire, and I also noticed that everyone was getting off the bus. So there we were, this parade of displaced bus passengers, and everyone walked home. No one stuck around to wait for the tire to get fixed, or even to get another bus. We were all close enough to our houses. There were business people, students, women in elegant boubous - I was definitely the only white person (it's not as weird as you'd think) - and no one seemed upset. They just got off the bus and went on their way.
As I walked to my house through the dusty streets, past tailors and stalls and garbage piles and kids playing soccer in a large field, it occurred to me that this would never happen in the US. People would be so angry if a bus got a flat tire. They would probably stick around and wait for it to get fixed - demand that it be fixed. They might wait around to see if another bus would show up. They might call a friend or relative to come pick them up. They might call a cab company. They might threaten to send an angry letter to the local government. But they certainly wouldn't walk home. And that is exactly what my fellow commuters - and I - did. And I thought to myself, this country is pretty amazing.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Corrections
I want to append my last post by saying that I was pretty judgmental of the people I stayed with and I want to clarify something - first of all, I didn't get the perspective of the women residents of the village on what their lives are like, because they didn't speak French. From what I learned from the men in the village, it seemed like women there didn't have a lot of power, but I'm not sure this is true, because I never was able to actually speak to one of the chief's wives or his daughter-in-law about how they feel about their lives.
So, I don't want to speak for them. Because the power structure in the village may allow for women to have power in a way that wasn't visible to me. I don't know that they feel oppressed or mistreated by the men. One thing that I do know, though, is that they are strong - they work in the fields, cook, clean, raise children, and are a crucial part of the system that keeps the compound going. I truly believe that without the women, the compound wouldn't be able to function. So even though they may not speak French or hold power in a way that a western feminist like me would instantly recognize as such, they are still incredibly strong individuals who play an indispensable role in their community. Senegalese women are strong.
So, post appended.
Yesterday I found out that my host sister is a Harry Potter fan, that my host mom thinks that Senegalese girls who wear colored contacts look like witches, and that my indepedent study project proposal is due tomorrow. During ISP, our homestays are officially over, but I'm spending an extra week in my homestay, then moving to a boarding house with three other girls from the program for the rest of my time here. It's pretty stressful to think about this, and what comes after - going home. There are so many things I still have to do in Senegal and I am not looking forward to reverse culture shock. I know it'll be weird to see the following when I go home: dogs on leashes, SUVs on perfectly smooth paved roads (how ridiculous!), meat in butcher shops neatly confined to glass cases, people dressed in sweatpants, MacDonald's drive-thrus, signage in English.
I will be glad to see women and girls out running again (here it's only men most of the time - kind of a deterrent if you're a female runner), less pollution, more bookstores and movie theatres, and I can't wait for cold weather, overcast skies, rain at home and snow at school.
It seems a long way off. But I register for next semester's classes tomorrow. Sometimes things feel very slow here, and then I realize that my semester in Senegal has gone by so fast.
So, I don't want to speak for them. Because the power structure in the village may allow for women to have power in a way that wasn't visible to me. I don't know that they feel oppressed or mistreated by the men. One thing that I do know, though, is that they are strong - they work in the fields, cook, clean, raise children, and are a crucial part of the system that keeps the compound going. I truly believe that without the women, the compound wouldn't be able to function. So even though they may not speak French or hold power in a way that a western feminist like me would instantly recognize as such, they are still incredibly strong individuals who play an indispensable role in their community. Senegalese women are strong.
So, post appended.
Yesterday I found out that my host sister is a Harry Potter fan, that my host mom thinks that Senegalese girls who wear colored contacts look like witches, and that my indepedent study project proposal is due tomorrow. During ISP, our homestays are officially over, but I'm spending an extra week in my homestay, then moving to a boarding house with three other girls from the program for the rest of my time here. It's pretty stressful to think about this, and what comes after - going home. There are so many things I still have to do in Senegal and I am not looking forward to reverse culture shock. I know it'll be weird to see the following when I go home: dogs on leashes, SUVs on perfectly smooth paved roads (how ridiculous!), meat in butcher shops neatly confined to glass cases, people dressed in sweatpants, MacDonald's drive-thrus, signage in English.
I will be glad to see women and girls out running again (here it's only men most of the time - kind of a deterrent if you're a female runner), less pollution, more bookstores and movie theatres, and I can't wait for cold weather, overcast skies, rain at home and snow at school.
It seems a long way off. But I register for next semester's classes tomorrow. Sometimes things feel very slow here, and then I realize that my semester in Senegal has gone by so fast.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Return from Kedougou
We got back from Kedougou this week, after a weeklong excursion with a 3-day village stay outside of the town. Here are some things that happened:
1. I stayed in yet another polygamous family in a village far away from town - no running water, no electricity, etc. with another SIT student. The countryside was beautiful - like a combination of Vermont and northern California, and the people were pretty friendly. But it was also where I saw the most extreme manifestations of traditional gender roles since I've been here. First of all, we stayed with the chief, who had four wives, and then the second day we were there, we accompanied the little kids from the compound to a nearby stream where the family washes clothes and dishes. There were several girls and two boys. When we reached the stream, the boys stayed on the bridge while the girls took the clothes and dishes (belong, I think, to everyone in the compound) to the stream to wash them. We went with them and helped a little, although freshwater contact is pretty much verboten according to SIT. But what really struck me was that these girls were around six years old, and they were performing this chore like grown-up women while the two little boys who came along just played on the bridge and watched them work. I don't think the little girls were unhappy, they seemed to have fun being together while they worked, but it was still pretty shocking to see firsthand this kind of distinction between the treatment of boys and girls.
2. A lot of times you'll see people here wearing t-shirts that come from events in the US, that were probably donated and somehow ended up here in Senegal. For example, a few days ago, I saw a man in the university area wearing a Seattle Parks and Recreation t-shirt. Well, while we were in Kedougou, after spending three days in the village, I saw a boy wearing a March for Women's Lives t-shirt. Abortion is illegal here. Women's rights certainly exist, and there are women who identify as feminists, but you still run into things like a lack of reproductive options and enduring gender roles that can be unfair. Anyway, I know a lot of Smith students who went to that march. It was really weird to see that world and the one I'm in now together on a kid in rural southeastern Senegal.
3. After the village stay and seeing the March for Women's Lives t-shirt, we visited Saraya, a large village outside of Kedougou where a women's gardening project has just begun. The women's groups there have created three gardens for growing vegetables, which they can sell, and also incorporate into the diet of school meals for the kids in the village. This was really cool to see after my stay in the village, and a reminder of the good things that you see happening in rural areas.
4. We went to a mountaintop village to see the biggest baobab tree in Senegal! Although I think maybe it's really the biggest in Africa or even the world. It takes 23 people holding hands around it to cover its circumference. The hike up was beautiful, and at the top you could see a valley full of rice paddies, and mountains and the border with Guinea in the distance. The oldest woman in Senegal lives at the top of the mountain in the village. She is 118 years old. The village itself was very large, more like a city made of huts than a village. It was amazing and the best experience I've had in Senegal so far.
So now I'm back in Dakar, realizing that I have just about a month left here, which is kind of nice and a little sad at the same time. It also means that next week I start work on my indepedent study project. I'm excited to start and to be more independent here. Pictures of the Kedougou trip to follow!
1. I stayed in yet another polygamous family in a village far away from town - no running water, no electricity, etc. with another SIT student. The countryside was beautiful - like a combination of Vermont and northern California, and the people were pretty friendly. But it was also where I saw the most extreme manifestations of traditional gender roles since I've been here. First of all, we stayed with the chief, who had four wives, and then the second day we were there, we accompanied the little kids from the compound to a nearby stream where the family washes clothes and dishes. There were several girls and two boys. When we reached the stream, the boys stayed on the bridge while the girls took the clothes and dishes (belong, I think, to everyone in the compound) to the stream to wash them. We went with them and helped a little, although freshwater contact is pretty much verboten according to SIT. But what really struck me was that these girls were around six years old, and they were performing this chore like grown-up women while the two little boys who came along just played on the bridge and watched them work. I don't think the little girls were unhappy, they seemed to have fun being together while they worked, but it was still pretty shocking to see firsthand this kind of distinction between the treatment of boys and girls.
2. A lot of times you'll see people here wearing t-shirts that come from events in the US, that were probably donated and somehow ended up here in Senegal. For example, a few days ago, I saw a man in the university area wearing a Seattle Parks and Recreation t-shirt. Well, while we were in Kedougou, after spending three days in the village, I saw a boy wearing a March for Women's Lives t-shirt. Abortion is illegal here. Women's rights certainly exist, and there are women who identify as feminists, but you still run into things like a lack of reproductive options and enduring gender roles that can be unfair. Anyway, I know a lot of Smith students who went to that march. It was really weird to see that world and the one I'm in now together on a kid in rural southeastern Senegal.
3. After the village stay and seeing the March for Women's Lives t-shirt, we visited Saraya, a large village outside of Kedougou where a women's gardening project has just begun. The women's groups there have created three gardens for growing vegetables, which they can sell, and also incorporate into the diet of school meals for the kids in the village. This was really cool to see after my stay in the village, and a reminder of the good things that you see happening in rural areas.
4. We went to a mountaintop village to see the biggest baobab tree in Senegal! Although I think maybe it's really the biggest in Africa or even the world. It takes 23 people holding hands around it to cover its circumference. The hike up was beautiful, and at the top you could see a valley full of rice paddies, and mountains and the border with Guinea in the distance. The oldest woman in Senegal lives at the top of the mountain in the village. She is 118 years old. The village itself was very large, more like a city made of huts than a village. It was amazing and the best experience I've had in Senegal so far.
So now I'm back in Dakar, realizing that I have just about a month left here, which is kind of nice and a little sad at the same time. It also means that next week I start work on my indepedent study project. I'm excited to start and to be more independent here. Pictures of the Kedougou trip to follow!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Chocolate Chip Cookies in Senegal
I decided to make my host family dinner Sunday night just to do something nice for me, since they've been wonderful. However, making an "American" dinner is pretty tough here - ingredients are hard to find, most kitchens don't have ovens, and stoves are mostly portable gas stoves like bigger versions of the kind you would take camping. I had devised a menu of spaghetti, fruit salad, and chocolate chip cookies, so I had my work cut out for me.
Luckily, we have an oven.
I found everything for chocolate chip cookies, except the chocolate chips, so I broke up some of the really good chocolate bars they have here, and had to hunt down baking soda, which is sold in little bags in small boutiques on every street. But you have to ask for carbonate, not soda du baking. Pasta and sauce were readily available in a gas station store, and fruit is easy to find here, and cheap. After several trips to several stores, I was all set to make my family their American dinner, explaining several times that there's really no American dish, because everyone in the US comes from somewhere else (to which a friend of my sister said, "C'est un 'melting pot.' "
That is, melting pot, with a French accent.
Everyone enjoyed the dinner, thanked me profusely, and told me I was "tres gentille." I was happy to do something for my host family, because they've done a lot for me, including putting up with my sometimes ridiculous French and virtually nonexistent Wolof.
But the highlight of the night was when my host sister asked me if I wanted to give our leftovers to the talibes outside. Talibes are little kids who are sent away from their families to live with marabouts, Muslim religious leaders in Senegal. They are treated horribly - deprived of education, medical care, and even the ability to take a shower. They are sent into Dakar each day to beg on the streets for money, which then goes straight to the marabout. In order to eat, the talibes ask for food, carrying around an empty tomato paste can for offerings as they navigate neighborhoods, begging at people's doors after dinner each night. Giving a talibe food is the only way to make sure you're helping him out (and yes, they're all boys). The system is very controversial, and borderline Dickensian. I was glad to give the two kids waiting outside the door the rest of the pasta. I then decided that every time I cook a meal here in Senegal, I will give my leftovers to the talibes.
I also watched "The Da Vinci Code" on TV, dubbed in French, of course.
Next Monday we leave for Kedougou - about a weeklong trip. We've been told that we might get to see giraffes, rhinoceros(es?), and lions. And that's when we'll finally get our 12-hour bus ride through Senegal, from the northwest to the southeast. I'm excited.
Luckily, we have an oven.
I found everything for chocolate chip cookies, except the chocolate chips, so I broke up some of the really good chocolate bars they have here, and had to hunt down baking soda, which is sold in little bags in small boutiques on every street. But you have to ask for carbonate, not soda du baking. Pasta and sauce were readily available in a gas station store, and fruit is easy to find here, and cheap. After several trips to several stores, I was all set to make my family their American dinner, explaining several times that there's really no American dish, because everyone in the US comes from somewhere else (to which a friend of my sister said, "C'est un 'melting pot.' "
That is, melting pot, with a French accent.
Everyone enjoyed the dinner, thanked me profusely, and told me I was "tres gentille." I was happy to do something for my host family, because they've done a lot for me, including putting up with my sometimes ridiculous French and virtually nonexistent Wolof.
But the highlight of the night was when my host sister asked me if I wanted to give our leftovers to the talibes outside. Talibes are little kids who are sent away from their families to live with marabouts, Muslim religious leaders in Senegal. They are treated horribly - deprived of education, medical care, and even the ability to take a shower. They are sent into Dakar each day to beg on the streets for money, which then goes straight to the marabout. In order to eat, the talibes ask for food, carrying around an empty tomato paste can for offerings as they navigate neighborhoods, begging at people's doors after dinner each night. Giving a talibe food is the only way to make sure you're helping him out (and yes, they're all boys). The system is very controversial, and borderline Dickensian. I was glad to give the two kids waiting outside the door the rest of the pasta. I then decided that every time I cook a meal here in Senegal, I will give my leftovers to the talibes.
I also watched "The Da Vinci Code" on TV, dubbed in French, of course.
Next Monday we leave for Kedougou - about a weeklong trip. We've been told that we might get to see giraffes, rhinoceros(es?), and lions. And that's when we'll finally get our 12-hour bus ride through Senegal, from the northwest to the southeast. I'm excited.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
More Pictures
Here are some pictures that I've been meaning to post:
Car Rapide: Public transport in Dakar; all are decorated with religious and patriotic symbols.
Me at the Mosque in Touba
More of the Grand Mosque at Touba
Ku mun, muun.
My homestay is continuing to go very well. We have a weekday routine of breaking the fast (it's Ramadan - most people in my house aren't actually fasting, including me, but we break it anyway) with tea and either bread or cake around seven, then the news and dubbed Mexican soap operas (Roderigo and Victoria and Miranda all speak French), then dinner around eight, and then more TV - generally American shows dubbed in French. I watch Lost and find it so funny to hear Jack and Kate and Sawyer speaking French in different voices. My host sister and I generally talk about politics while we watch TV, in French! It's really interesting to hear her perspective on the U.S. government - last night we talked about Guantanamo Bay, terrorism, and militant Islam, which she told me isn't really Islam, because Islam forbids killing another person.
So, I'm learning a lot.
I also learned a Wolof saying I really like: Ku mun, muun. There are some tildes involved, but I don't know how to type them. It means, roughly, if you're patient, you will smile. (I think.) French translations are "Il ne faut jamais jeter l'eponge," which means, "It is necessary to never throw in the towel."
My Wolof teacher said that this saying is really important to the Senegalese, because it basically means that even when things are hard, it's necessary to be patient and determined, because eventually good fortune/recompense can be found again. I really like this saying, and I'm keeping it in mind during my time here.
I also have been noticing these huge, leafy trees that are planted everywhere in the city. They have very bright red-orange blossoms and people use them for the shade. I don't know what type of tree they are, but I've only ever seen them here in Senegal and I love walking past them every day.
So, I'm learning a lot.
I also learned a Wolof saying I really like: Ku mun, muun. There are some tildes involved, but I don't know how to type them. It means, roughly, if you're patient, you will smile. (I think.) French translations are "Il ne faut jamais jeter l'eponge," which means, "It is necessary to never throw in the towel."
My Wolof teacher said that this saying is really important to the Senegalese, because it basically means that even when things are hard, it's necessary to be patient and determined, because eventually good fortune/recompense can be found again. I really like this saying, and I'm keeping it in mind during my time here.
I also have been noticing these huge, leafy trees that are planted everywhere in the city. They have very bright red-orange blossoms and people use them for the shade. I don't know what type of tree they are, but I've only ever seen them here in Senegal and I love walking past them every day.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
You have a button on your arm
This is what my new host sister said to me yesterday, because here anything round on your skin is a bouton. The button on my arm was a new mole. From the sun. So she told me that I have to wear sunscreen.
I've moved! To Cite Asecna in Ouakam, a busy quartier of Dakar close to the airport and 40 minutes by bus to class. I love it. It's like a village in a big city, with quieter streets but just as much life as the rest of Dakar (maybe more) and everyone seems to know each other. I live with a host mom, and host sister, and three host brothers who I rarely see because they work nights at a big grocery store. My host mom teaches home ec and is great, and my host sister is 21 and studying to be a doctor. I really like them both and I get to practice my French with them and eat meals with them and watch TV with them every night. My host sister is partial to Mexican soap operas and American TV shows (Lost, House, Grey's Anatomy) dubbed in French. Lost is way behind here, but it was fun to watch a show I like in French.
So the new situation is good. My old one was not; and it's not the fault of the family I stayed with, they just weren't very good at including an exchange student in family activities and basically didn't talk to me. That was the way their family worked, and that's fine, but I wasn't learning anything. And now I am. It's a good change.
They also keep telling me that I'm going to learn Wolof. Considering that I can really only say "hello," "how are you?", and "thank you" I'm not sure if they're being polite or genuinely optimistic. But that's Senegal for you, I guess. People are really friendly here, and I've also noticed that they often say funny things when they enter a room, like, "you're sitting?," "you're eating?" - generally stating the obvious to start a conversation. It's nice.
I've moved! To Cite Asecna in Ouakam, a busy quartier of Dakar close to the airport and 40 minutes by bus to class. I love it. It's like a village in a big city, with quieter streets but just as much life as the rest of Dakar (maybe more) and everyone seems to know each other. I live with a host mom, and host sister, and three host brothers who I rarely see because they work nights at a big grocery store. My host mom teaches home ec and is great, and my host sister is 21 and studying to be a doctor. I really like them both and I get to practice my French with them and eat meals with them and watch TV with them every night. My host sister is partial to Mexican soap operas and American TV shows (Lost, House, Grey's Anatomy) dubbed in French. Lost is way behind here, but it was fun to watch a show I like in French.
So the new situation is good. My old one was not; and it's not the fault of the family I stayed with, they just weren't very good at including an exchange student in family activities and basically didn't talk to me. That was the way their family worked, and that's fine, but I wasn't learning anything. And now I am. It's a good change.
They also keep telling me that I'm going to learn Wolof. Considering that I can really only say "hello," "how are you?", and "thank you" I'm not sure if they're being polite or genuinely optimistic. But that's Senegal for you, I guess. People are really friendly here, and I've also noticed that they often say funny things when they enter a room, like, "you're sitting?," "you're eating?" - generally stating the obvious to start a conversation. It's nice.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Leaving Saint-Louis
Tomorrow we leave Saint-Louis to go back to Dakar. I am really sad to be leaving! Saint-Louis is wonderful. It's made up of two islands and few bridges in between, and it's divided by the Senegal River and bordered by the Atlantic Ocean. The roads here are wider than the ones in Dakar, and there are definitely more sidewalks. There are also fewer people, and, consequently, fewer people hassling you and asking for money, your number, or your hand in marriage (and possibly all three) than there are in Dakar. There are, however, a ton of goats in the road, just hanging out, enjoying the trash piles or climbing up on their hind legs to eat leaves out of trees. There are also some really cute kittens who seem to live down the street from our hotel. But our program says that there is to be no petting or cuddling of animals while we're in Senegal. So no petting the cute stray kittens. The buildings here are also pretty - old colonial-style buildings in bright colors with wooden shutters, and last night, we discovered an amazing Vietnamese restaurant where you can actually get a grenadine in Senegal that isn't just a cup of syrup and uncarbonated mineral water.
Add to this the hotel with its air conditioning, western-style showers, and bread and pastries for breakfast, and it's easy to see why returning to Dakar, with its traffic, pollution, multitude of people asking after money/phone numbers/marriage, narrow roads, absent sidewalks, busy markets where your backpack might get stolen, and generally crazy noise level, is a little difficult to get excited about.
But - I've now been here a month, and I'm realizing that the rest of the program is going to go by pretty fast. Which is good, because it means that in no time I'll be home and getting ready to go back to Smith, but it's also bad, because it means that I really need to finish my book for French class, and it also means that in a month and a half I'm going to be working on my independent study project, which resembles nothing I've ever done for school, except for maybe interviewing people for the Sophian.
I hope that I have another chance to come back to Saint-Louis someday. Going back to Dakar won't be fun, but I'm glad I got the chance to come here and see a calmer, quieter side of Senegal. And I'm glad that after spending three days in a village, we got to visit such a relaxing place with both TV and the nicest bathrooms I've seen since I got here.
Add to this the hotel with its air conditioning, western-style showers, and bread and pastries for breakfast, and it's easy to see why returning to Dakar, with its traffic, pollution, multitude of people asking after money/phone numbers/marriage, narrow roads, absent sidewalks, busy markets where your backpack might get stolen, and generally crazy noise level, is a little difficult to get excited about.
But - I've now been here a month, and I'm realizing that the rest of the program is going to go by pretty fast. Which is good, because it means that in no time I'll be home and getting ready to go back to Smith, but it's also bad, because it means that I really need to finish my book for French class, and it also means that in a month and a half I'm going to be working on my independent study project, which resembles nothing I've ever done for school, except for maybe interviewing people for the Sophian.
I hope that I have another chance to come back to Saint-Louis someday. Going back to Dakar won't be fun, but I'm glad I got the chance to come here and see a calmer, quieter side of Senegal. And I'm glad that after spending three days in a village, we got to visit such a relaxing place with both TV and the nicest bathrooms I've seen since I got here.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Veiling and Saint-Louis
So, here's a breakdown of the last couple days: 3 days in Keur Sadaro, a village about two hours from Dakar, 1 day in a dilapidated sports complex dormitory for a lecture in Thies, 1 additional day of traveling with a stop at the Grande Mosque at Touba (Senegal's holy city), and here I am in Saint-Louis, the most European and the most touristy part of Senegal. Our hotel has running water, electricity, a TV that has a French channel (this means American TV dubbed in French), a restaurant where we get to have breakfast every morning we're here, and - wireless internet! This is so luxurious and nice after four days of bucket baths (no running water in the village) and then the sports complex didn't have its running water working either. So I'm glad to be in Saint-Louis, with views of the ocean and wide streets and actual sidewalks, and pretty colonial-style architecture.
That said, the trip to the mosque was crazy. I had to cover my head with a scarf and wear a long-sleeved shirt and a long skirt, which our tourguide made me put another long skirt over, because apparently even the slightest bit of ankle is very tempting. He even tried to put the skirt on me, which was incredibly obnoxious. He also told us that the mosque doesn't have as many prayer facilities for women as it does for men (because, women, of course, can't be as devout since they're home with the kids and the cooking), and then told us that Islam here isn't strict because women don't have to be completely covered.
Um, I was completely covered. The men, though, were allowed to show their arms and heads.
Being in a Muslim country is really hard for me at times like this. It doesn't help to be an American, a feminist, and a Smithie when someone is telling you to cover up and then casually mentioning his two wives - yes, our tourguide did that too.
And he also said that women clean the mosque. Even if they don't have any involvement in its design or structure and aren't allowed into it and have to pray in a small hallway and don't hold leadership positions in the faith. I was really relieved when we left, quite honestly. And I had been looking forward to coming to Touba.
I'm trying to be open-minded, but it's hard, because this all feels very extreme and alienating to me. But at the very least I know that when I go back to the States I'll have a newfound appreciation for shorts, religious spaces where women and men can pray together, and the mere fact that there are people around who aren't religious at all.
That said, the trip to the mosque was crazy. I had to cover my head with a scarf and wear a long-sleeved shirt and a long skirt, which our tourguide made me put another long skirt over, because apparently even the slightest bit of ankle is very tempting. He even tried to put the skirt on me, which was incredibly obnoxious. He also told us that the mosque doesn't have as many prayer facilities for women as it does for men (because, women, of course, can't be as devout since they're home with the kids and the cooking), and then told us that Islam here isn't strict because women don't have to be completely covered.
Um, I was completely covered. The men, though, were allowed to show their arms and heads.
Being in a Muslim country is really hard for me at times like this. It doesn't help to be an American, a feminist, and a Smithie when someone is telling you to cover up and then casually mentioning his two wives - yes, our tourguide did that too.
And he also said that women clean the mosque. Even if they don't have any involvement in its design or structure and aren't allowed into it and have to pray in a small hallway and don't hold leadership positions in the faith. I was really relieved when we left, quite honestly. And I had been looking forward to coming to Touba.
I'm trying to be open-minded, but it's hard, because this all feels very extreme and alienating to me. But at the very least I know that when I go back to the States I'll have a newfound appreciation for shorts, religious spaces where women and men can pray together, and the mere fact that there are people around who aren't religious at all.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Goree
Today we went to Goree Island, 20 minutes from Dakar on a ferry. The architecture there is colonial - clapboard-style shutters on brick painted green and red/pink. There are no cars on the island, and only a few small boutiques to buy sodas and snacks, a few restaurants, and a market where merchants say things like, "Come to my store, good price!" and then proceed to try to seriously rip you off. This is because Goree is a big tourist destination, so most of the time, this probably works.
We also visited the National Museum of Women, or something, which had exhibits on "The Joy of Being a Mother" and tons of kinda scary-looking mannequins wearing traditional dress. I wanted to see exhibits concerning women's rights and history, but the exhibits were mainly objects, like baskets and stoves used by women in villages. Interesting, but not exactly what I was expecting to see (or wanting to see).
We visited an old fort that had some scary-looking human skeletons on display, and then spent the rest of the day in the sun, fighting off vendors trying to sell us bracelets and other stuff we didn't really want.
Now I'm back in Dakar, and excited for our 10-day trip that starts tomorrow. We're going to a village, Thies, and Saint Louis, and I'm excited to travel!
Also, I discovered a beach last week in Dakar that is beautiful. Once you get away from the traffic and the crowds, Dakar can be pretty gorgeous.
We also visited the National Museum of Women, or something, which had exhibits on "The Joy of Being a Mother" and tons of kinda scary-looking mannequins wearing traditional dress. I wanted to see exhibits concerning women's rights and history, but the exhibits were mainly objects, like baskets and stoves used by women in villages. Interesting, but not exactly what I was expecting to see (or wanting to see).
We visited an old fort that had some scary-looking human skeletons on display, and then spent the rest of the day in the sun, fighting off vendors trying to sell us bracelets and other stuff we didn't really want.
Now I'm back in Dakar, and excited for our 10-day trip that starts tomorrow. We're going to a village, Thies, and Saint Louis, and I'm excited to travel!
Also, I discovered a beach last week in Dakar that is beautiful. Once you get away from the traffic and the crowds, Dakar can be pretty gorgeous.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Traveling!
So things here have been pretty unpredictable lately. We've had several power outages (including the past two days, which meant no internet). And it's been hard living in a host family. Hopefully all will be resolved soon (I think it will be). But in any case, this is quite a mobile study abroad program, and we're leaving on Saturday for a 10-day trip to Thies, our first village homestays, the Grande Mosque at Touba, and Saint Louis. I'm excited to get out of Dakar and into a more rural, less frantic setting. That said, there are things I like about Dakar. But I don't like the pollution, getting stared at/yelled at in the street, and feeling perpetually lost when I'm trying to get somewhere.
We have something like a 12 hour bus ride. I'm looking forward to reading, listening to music, and looking out the window.
I also really miss Smith, Seattle, and the United States in general.
This is what I miss:
1. people, of course - family and friends.
2. knowing where to find everything I need - here it's either markets (really busy, you need to bargain, and people will try to sell you stuff) or gas stations with a more "western" setup.
3. having a waste/trash management system.
4. American movies and TV.
We have something like a 12 hour bus ride. I'm looking forward to reading, listening to music, and looking out the window.
I also really miss Smith, Seattle, and the United States in general.
This is what I miss:
1. people, of course - family and friends.
2. knowing where to find everything I need - here it's either markets (really busy, you need to bargain, and people will try to sell you stuff) or gas stations with a more "western" setup.
3. having a waste/trash management system.
4. American movies and TV.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Pictures!
“Lady Oprah Winfrey Garden of the Children”
Bronze sculpture at the National Arts Village
The view from the hotel we stayed in during orientation during my first tropical rainstorm
A lizard on a wall near said hotel. They have lizards here!
Bronze sculpture at the National Arts Village
The view from the hotel we stayed in during orientation during my first tropical rainstorm
A lizard on a wall near said hotel. They have lizards here!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Rooftop TV, Pantene Pro-V, and Desperate Housewives
Yesterday was 9/11, and I realized that six years after 9/11, I was in a Muslim country, watching the news in French on the roof of a house with a call to prayer from a nearby mosque crackling through the air. It was an interesting and strange moment. I'm pretty glad I'm here, even if it's perpetually hot and dusty and I'm afraid of cockroaches and I haven't seen a western-style bathroom in nearly a week and a half.
Also, Senegalese dance is really exhausting, as is playing the djembe drum. I think that my hands are going to be red and puffy for the next few days.
Today's big discovery was a shop that sells Pantene Pro-V shampoo and conditioner, and an array of French and American products. It's close to school, but not to where I live.
There are billboards here advertising "Desperate Housewives." I can't imagine watching that show here. It would seem pretty irrelevant, moreso than it does in the States, which is still a lot of irrelevance.
Our excursion to Saint Louis is coming up fairly soon. I'm excited to get out of the city for a while!
Also, Senegalese dance is really exhausting, as is playing the djembe drum. I think that my hands are going to be red and puffy for the next few days.
Today's big discovery was a shop that sells Pantene Pro-V shampoo and conditioner, and an array of French and American products. It's close to school, but not to where I live.
There are billboards here advertising "Desperate Housewives." I can't imagine watching that show here. It would seem pretty irrelevant, moreso than it does in the States, which is still a lot of irrelevance.
Our excursion to Saint Louis is coming up fairly soon. I'm excited to get out of the city for a while!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Toubab
Every day when I walk to school I get stared at. Because I'm a white girl and I'm in the minority here and I stand out. At first I was pretty uncomfortable with getting stared at, but now I just greet the people who stare at me, and then they greet me and stop staring.
Yesterday I met a woman who had spent three years in Hartford, Connecticut, and it occurred to me how much I miss Seattle and Smith. The thought that it's going to be three and a half months before I get to see a movie in English is pretty sad to me. And I miss the convenience of American stores - everything you need is there (and plenty of things you don't need) and prices are fixed so there's no need to barter. Here, you get everything in the market and you have to bargain prices down.
Today we are going to the National Arts Village, which is in the middle of the city and actually seems like a village, but artists live there and have their studios there, so we get to take drumming and dancing there, and eventually art classes, which is all pretty exciting.
Also, I have recently discovered that Carambar fruit candy is really good, and Biskrem cookies are too, and it's cheap and easy to buy mangoes and bananas off the street for like 25 cents.
Yesterday I met a woman who had spent three years in Hartford, Connecticut, and it occurred to me how much I miss Seattle and Smith. The thought that it's going to be three and a half months before I get to see a movie in English is pretty sad to me. And I miss the convenience of American stores - everything you need is there (and plenty of things you don't need) and prices are fixed so there's no need to barter. Here, you get everything in the market and you have to bargain prices down.
Today we are going to the National Arts Village, which is in the middle of the city and actually seems like a village, but artists live there and have their studios there, so we get to take drumming and dancing there, and eventually art classes, which is all pretty exciting.
Also, I have recently discovered that Carambar fruit candy is really good, and Biskrem cookies are too, and it's cheap and easy to buy mangoes and bananas off the street for like 25 cents.
Monday, September 10, 2007
In which Khady kills Fat Bastard
So I'm in my Senegalese homestay, living in a house with eleven people and three generations, at least. A lot of the house is actually outside, and the windows don't have screens or glass in them, so bugs pretty much love it here. I have seen a ton of cockroaches, and yeah, I'm pretty uncomfortable with that.
In any case, I was drying laundry in my room and a really fat one was attracted by the moisture. I was pretty terrified, so I named him Fat Bastard and squished him with a copy of Jane magazine that I knew I had purchased for a reason.
Oh yeah, the people in my house call me "Khady" because it's easier than Megan. It's a little weird to be called a name I can't even pronounce, even weirder to be called the name of Mohammed's first wife. (Khady is a diminutive of Khadija.) It's also pretty strange walking to school and having random men on the street greet me in French and Wolof and say things like, "Mignon! Tu es tres belle!"
Senegal certainly is an interesting place.
In any case, I was drying laundry in my room and a really fat one was attracted by the moisture. I was pretty terrified, so I named him Fat Bastard and squished him with a copy of Jane magazine that I knew I had purchased for a reason.
Oh yeah, the people in my house call me "Khady" because it's easier than Megan. It's a little weird to be called a name I can't even pronounce, even weirder to be called the name of Mohammed's first wife. (Khady is a diminutive of Khadija.) It's also pretty strange walking to school and having random men on the street greet me in French and Wolof and say things like, "Mignon! Tu es tres belle!"
Senegal certainly is an interesting place.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Je suis etudiante, je n'ai pas beaucoup d'argent...
So they let us loose in downtown Dakar in taxis in groups of three to go to a particular destination (mine was La Grande Mosquee de Dakar) and find answers to questions about things like the price of a banana. Downtown Dakar is CRAZY. As a white person (who many people assume is rich), you are constantly approached by kids asking for money and venders selling watches, sunglasses, phone cards, and perfume, among many things. Someone tried to rob me, and I have said "No, desolee" many, many times.
After the initial shock of the begging kids and the people selling things, I actually realized I liked it. Dakar smells like spices, urine, baking bread, garlic, sweat, cloth, and lots and lots of people. My group got lunch at a small eatery where they served things like croque monsieur (which I had) and lots of crepes.
Then, upon our return to the market, we were accosted (well, joined, actually) by a group of Senegalese guys who wanted to know where we were from, and then helped us buy things without getting ripped off because we're American and will get charged exhorbitant sums of money for whatever we try to buy, probably even from the cheapest vender. There was jewelry, clothing, cloth, fruit, sliced coconut, juice, books - everything, and at multiple stalls. The guys urged us to buy stuff, and were quite persistent; the guy talking to me said that he was a marabout and would bless my money for me if I gave it to him. I didn't. Then the guys asked for our numbers. People here are really friendly, but it's a little weird to adjust to, being an American, and from a place where I'm not in the minority, so I won't be approached so often because I look different.
That said, by and large, the people here are really nice and and very patient. They also dress in pretty amazing clothes.
ALSO - yesterday was my first tropical rainstorm.
After the initial shock of the begging kids and the people selling things, I actually realized I liked it. Dakar smells like spices, urine, baking bread, garlic, sweat, cloth, and lots and lots of people. My group got lunch at a small eatery where they served things like croque monsieur (which I had) and lots of crepes.
Then, upon our return to the market, we were accosted (well, joined, actually) by a group of Senegalese guys who wanted to know where we were from, and then helped us buy things without getting ripped off because we're American and will get charged exhorbitant sums of money for whatever we try to buy, probably even from the cheapest vender. There was jewelry, clothing, cloth, fruit, sliced coconut, juice, books - everything, and at multiple stalls. The guys urged us to buy stuff, and were quite persistent; the guy talking to me said that he was a marabout and would bless my money for me if I gave it to him. I didn't. Then the guys asked for our numbers. People here are really friendly, but it's a little weird to adjust to, being an American, and from a place where I'm not in the minority, so I won't be approached so often because I look different.
That said, by and large, the people here are really nice and and very patient. They also dress in pretty amazing clothes.
ALSO - yesterday was my first tropical rainstorm.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Lady Oprah Winfrey Garden of the Children
Every day this week, we take a bus from our hotel to SIT's school in Point E. And on one of our most recent drives, I noticed a white building surrounded by a white wall decorated with colorful paintings of flowers and stuff like that. This is what it said across the top of the wall:
Lady Oprah Winfrey Garden of the Children
(in French, of course)
...which, of course, is pretty hilarious, especially because it's directly translated, although it really just means something along the lines of "Lady Oprah Winfrey Preschool or Kindergarten" (I'm not really sure which, yet.) I wonder if Oprah Winfrey has anything to do with this school or if they just liked her name a lot. In any case, it makes me laugh every time we go by.
Also, being in Africa, I keep thinking about this really annoying kid I had to work with at a godawful camp two summers ago. He was really rude and threw plastic bottles at his campers, and he loved to make up racist verses to one camp song we sang, which the kids at camp were then obliged to repeat. The song had a refrain of "With a ____, in my hand, I'm gonna be a ____ man." Examples are pizza and pizza man, etc. Anyway, one of the verses he proudly made up was "With a spear in my hand, I'm gonna be an Afri-CAN!"
So I found that pretty offensive, for a number of reasons having to do with blatant racism and stereotyping and colonization, etc. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that I was not the only person working at camp who found this kid's song lyrics objectionable. And just to dispel anyone's curiosity, the only African holding a spear that I have seen in Dakar was a wooden decoration on a sign for a shop.
Lady Oprah Winfrey Garden of the Children
(in French, of course)
...which, of course, is pretty hilarious, especially because it's directly translated, although it really just means something along the lines of "Lady Oprah Winfrey Preschool or Kindergarten" (I'm not really sure which, yet.) I wonder if Oprah Winfrey has anything to do with this school or if they just liked her name a lot. In any case, it makes me laugh every time we go by.
Also, being in Africa, I keep thinking about this really annoying kid I had to work with at a godawful camp two summers ago. He was really rude and threw plastic bottles at his campers, and he loved to make up racist verses to one camp song we sang, which the kids at camp were then obliged to repeat. The song had a refrain of "With a ____, in my hand, I'm gonna be a ____ man." Examples are pizza and pizza man, etc. Anyway, one of the verses he proudly made up was "With a spear in my hand, I'm gonna be an Afri-CAN!"
So I found that pretty offensive, for a number of reasons having to do with blatant racism and stereotyping and colonization, etc. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that I was not the only person working at camp who found this kid's song lyrics objectionable. And just to dispel anyone's curiosity, the only African holding a spear that I have seen in Dakar was a wooden decoration on a sign for a shop.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Africa makes me sick...
Literally. I have been in Senegal almost two days, and I've already gotten sick. It was upsetting and annoying to get sick on my first day in Africa, but since most travelers get sick here, maybe I'll get it out of the way fast. I'm feeling better now, anyway. But seriously, it sucks to get sick at home, and it's even worse - much, much worse - to get sick on your first day in a new country on a new continent where you don't know anyone.
Just to clarify, Africa has made me get sick, but only in the most literal sense. I'm still, for the most part, glad to be here, although definitely in a transition period. We're staying at a hotel in Dakar, and will go to our homestay families on Friday. We have yet to go to the beach, or even see it, so I hope that eventually we'll get to see it.
Meanwhile, I'm getting used to life in a developing country. The roads are bumpy, the showers are detached, and meals are a combination of French bread and Senegalese rice and meat. It's almost disturbing to see the level of French/western culture here, from the way everyone speaks French to the Seattle SuperSonics logo I saw on a kid's backpack this morning - that also made me homesick as soon as I saw it. :(
People are very friendly and generous, for the most part. This morning we had to walk around the district of Dakar where we're staying with random objects in our hands and ask people on the street, in French (preceded by "Asalaam Aleikum," of course) what we were holding. Mine was a jar of mysterious black paste that turned out to be a substance used for incense - it's burned in a ceramic pot and is used by people all over Dakar. Anyway, most people I approached were incredibly patient with me and another student from the program, going so far as to find a ceramic pot and mime putting the paste in the pot, and gesture when we couldn't understand their French.
Another thing about Senegal - it's HOT here, humid, sticky, and very, very warm. I definitely prefer this to the weather in Massachusetts, which will start getting unbearably cold very soon, but it's still shocking to walk out of the air-conditioned room where I'm staying in the hotel and get hit instantly with a wall of heat and humidity. I'm sure I'll adjust, and then think that Northampton is really cold when I come back.
So, Africa doesn't really make me sick. I like it here. I'm looking forward to being better and actually being able to walk around and explore Dakar outside of the classroom.
Oh yeah, and sixteen hours of traveling? I officially do not recommend that to anyone.
Just to clarify, Africa has made me get sick, but only in the most literal sense. I'm still, for the most part, glad to be here, although definitely in a transition period. We're staying at a hotel in Dakar, and will go to our homestay families on Friday. We have yet to go to the beach, or even see it, so I hope that eventually we'll get to see it.
Meanwhile, I'm getting used to life in a developing country. The roads are bumpy, the showers are detached, and meals are a combination of French bread and Senegalese rice and meat. It's almost disturbing to see the level of French/western culture here, from the way everyone speaks French to the Seattle SuperSonics logo I saw on a kid's backpack this morning - that also made me homesick as soon as I saw it. :(
People are very friendly and generous, for the most part. This morning we had to walk around the district of Dakar where we're staying with random objects in our hands and ask people on the street, in French (preceded by "Asalaam Aleikum," of course) what we were holding. Mine was a jar of mysterious black paste that turned out to be a substance used for incense - it's burned in a ceramic pot and is used by people all over Dakar. Anyway, most people I approached were incredibly patient with me and another student from the program, going so far as to find a ceramic pot and mime putting the paste in the pot, and gesture when we couldn't understand their French.
Another thing about Senegal - it's HOT here, humid, sticky, and very, very warm. I definitely prefer this to the weather in Massachusetts, which will start getting unbearably cold very soon, but it's still shocking to walk out of the air-conditioned room where I'm staying in the hotel and get hit instantly with a wall of heat and humidity. I'm sure I'll adjust, and then think that Northampton is really cold when I come back.
So, Africa doesn't really make me sick. I like it here. I'm looking forward to being better and actually being able to walk around and explore Dakar outside of the classroom.
Oh yeah, and sixteen hours of traveling? I officially do not recommend that to anyone.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Departure!
I'm leaving Seattle next week for Dakar after a summer at home with a photography job and my family. I'm really excited to go so that I can see a completely different part of the world and speak French and learn Wolof (or at least try to learn Wolof) and spend fall semester in a tropical climate instead of New England. Really, I just want to learn a lot and I am sure I will.
I finished up my rabies shots yesterday (yay immunizations!) and this weekend I'm going to stock up on a metric ton of sunscreen and bug spray. I've got my malaria prophylaxis and my plane ticket, and I feel like I'm ready to go, although I still have a lot of packing to do.
I also have a Senegalese visa.
So that's all really boring, but as soon as I'm in-country, there will be real things to write about.
I finished up my rabies shots yesterday (yay immunizations!) and this weekend I'm going to stock up on a metric ton of sunscreen and bug spray. I've got my malaria prophylaxis and my plane ticket, and I feel like I'm ready to go, although I still have a lot of packing to do.
I also have a Senegalese visa.
So that's all really boring, but as soon as I'm in-country, there will be real things to write about.
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