Another Day...

Friday, January 19, 2007

It is hard to write about something when you, yourself are still trying to figure out what the hell happened…but, as always, I will try. As my time here in Senegal approaches the year mark, the sense of constant surprise, shock, confusion, distrust, etc., has to some extent, warn off. Because of that, it has been more and more difficult to find topics to write about.

Here in Senegal, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, American, and white person, or basically different from the general population, you are much like an attraction at a zoo. Gradually, it gets easier and easier to accept this fact. I don’t notice the “toubab” comments anymore and in the areas where I live, work, and frequent, relationships are created, diminishing the novelty affect.

But, there are always those infrequent events that throw this assimilation process astray…

The past couple of weeks, I have been trying to make it home for lunch each day, especially when it is a day of something I favor, such as Tuesdays (mafe) or Friday (thieb u yapp). Well, I was running a bit late today, so I was in a hurry so I could make it to the bowl.

A third of the way into my car rapide trip home, I noticed a lady sitting 2 people down from me on the bench started saying “bonjourrr, bonjourrrrrrrr, bonjourrrrrrrrr.” It didn’t appear that she was saying this to anyone, but as events unfolded, I suppose she was saying them to me.

A few minutes passed and then as people got off the car, this girl moved. She was around my age and had a few pounds on her. First, she moved to a seat diagnolly in front of me and then squeezed into a spot just beside me. I didn’t find it too unusual because people change seats as more space becomes available.

What I did find unusual was when squeezed in beside me and started rubbing my arm. I mean, I know for a fact that I was the hottest American guy on this trip, but she just wanted to take things a little too quick for my taste. As she was touching my arm, she was asking “What is this? What is this?” In my head, I was asking what the f**k was going on. I was pretty sketched out. This girl was creating a scene and there was definetly an audience.

It was kinda funny at first, but it kept dragging on and on. I kinda wished I asked her how many times she had been dropped on her head as a child, but instead I started wondering if I got on the right bus or not. I told her that I did not want to talk to her and really just wanted to take a nap, but that didn’t work, so her conversation and petting continued.

So she asked if I knew George Bush and I told her he was my dad. She was concerned about my personal information, so she started questioning what I did. She asked if I worked for the FBI and I told her that I did. Then she asked if I worked for the CIA, but due to differences in pronunciation, it took me awhile to figure out what she was trying to say. Throughout the course of this, she still occasionally rubbed my arm. I really had no where to go or put it, so I just had to suffer.

I was pondering jumping out the bus window and ending the pain and suffering right then, but for some reason I didn’t…I should have. She took off her bracelet and tried to put on me. Well, at that point, I kinda had enough. I’m not big in being an ass or creating a scene, but I definitely removed her hands from my vicinity with a sense of aggression. Typically, this would be enough, but she just didn’t get it…I hate having good looks. She kept trying to put her bracelet on my arm and kept asking “what is this?” as she pointed to the hair on my arm. I don’t know if she was curious about the hair on my arm or my tan…both of which are interesting conversation pieces.

Basically, my next 20 minutes in hell drug on, but they finally ended. Everyone on the car at this point was my audience, so, with a smile, I got up and took a bow. I shook the girl’s hand. I did make sure that my back side minimally faced her as left, because I was almost certain that she would try to grab my butt.

That was one of the weirder experiences I have had here and in my life…who was that girl.

Nose Picker's Delight

Senegal is just about every toddler’s heaven. Picking your nose is acceptable. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t see someone or even myself on occasion, go up there to try and find a surprise. I have typically always been lucky on my endeavours.

So, what is up there? After careful analysis, here is a nice diagram of what is in my nose… Keep in mind that these figures are official, but would vary with regard to one’s location throughout Senegal.

Interesting Article

Here is an article that was published on BBC.com last year regarding Tabaski. It is pretty insightful

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4175261.stm

Remainder of Pictures

Here are the rest of the pictures from my parents visit....ENJOY!

Excursion to the Bandia Park Reserve and Lac Rose (Pink Lake):
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.5v8zko0l&Uy=-g4sy9q&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Ile de Goree:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.6paqejf9&Uy=9hwsh3&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Trip to Thies:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.45f3kfrp&Uy=9hwshz&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Pictures

Here are a portion of the pictures from the past few weeks. I am having difficulty uploading all of the pictures, so I'm hoping to get it all done soon.

December 31, 2006 - Tabaski
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.61racps5&Uy=-xoopkf&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

December 23, 2006- Lagon 1
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.8lmx6tfp&Uy=-xoopkb&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Deceber 11 - 12, 2006 - Mom and Dad Packing in Georgia
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.7hu1yxl1&Uy=1hbjky&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Random Pictures from Mom and Dad Visit
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.b8507gw5&Uy=f0trdh&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

December 26, 2006 - Ile de Madeline
http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=7cwno9h.6hu0vkzp&Uy=-qs772r&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

Reflection and Thoughts

My parents’ visit here in Senegal was something that I had been looking forward to since last March. I didn’t know how everything would work out, but ended up going better than I could have ever imagined. One of the most important things I gained from the visit, besides a few needed pounds, was that it provided me with a different prospective of my life here in this country. Also, it gave me a chance to reflect on the past nine months and better appreciate my own life.

When thinking about a Peace Corps Volunteers role in a given assignment, I feel that you have to realize it is unconventional and far more than just a job…its so much more. For me, the work that I do at the Hospital Fann garden is only a small portion of what I do here. To better explain that, one of the three goals of Peace Corps is “to help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans,” which is something I find very important. While letters, phone calls, pictures, and the amazing and thrilling literary updates found on this site (some of you may call it a blog) assist in accomplishing this goal, my parents’ visit not only allowed them to get a small glimpse into the lives of the Senegalese people but into my own life here as well. Being able to share my life here is something I think of as a privilege…to have family and friends have a chance to see it for themselves is vital to their own understanding.

My parents visit here allowed me to see a far different side of Dakar than I am used to as well as the importance of integration. Most of the places we ate and spent the night at cater to the wealth surrounding the international community that comes into Senegal or lives within Dakar, not to the typical Senegalese person…in a sense, that is a shame, but in the world of business, that is a reality. While in these places, I typically tried to use wolof (its getting better), the local language I know, instead of French (don’t really know it) or English (places like this have multilingual staff), and made several positive relationships with hotel and restaurant staffs because of it. Most people were all taken back by it. I think that the relationships created by it, made my parents’ and my visit more personable. It was really cool because a few nights after my parents flew back to the States, I went to a restaurant we had gone to several times, and the waiters asked where my parents were and we had a great conversation. I honestly believe that their care was due to my ability to partially communicate with them in one of their native tongues. We were taught about the importance of relationships and I really can see that now. Instances like this make my challenging two year assignment shine and worthwhile for me.

While Senegal may be a poor nation struggling to reach the modern age, its people are vibrant, typically welcoming, and very rich in culture and family. Coming from the States, the evidence of poverty is far greater here than back home, but also much different. It has not been until recently that I have come to realize how lucky I am. Lately, every time that I have passed kids, families, men, women, and/or elders who have very little on the street, I have had difficulty in composing myself. Walking downtown late at night and see women and children sleeping on the sidewalk is one of the toughest scenes for me. While it is not a matter of feeling sorry for people, it is recognizing that we are all human and wishing that I could help them all out…knowing that you can’t is a difficult concept to comprehend.

The things that I am doing here are not Saints work. They typically are not difficult. I don’t do a whole lot when it comes down to it. I have much control over the things I do. With that being said, I also don’t have to worry about my next meal, a roof over my head, free access to a pool, my health care, money to pay for things, and the list goes on. One of the hardest things for me to grasp is that the people I interact or work with everyday struggle each and every day with just the basic needs of life…It is tough to grasp that.

I apologize if some of this does not make sense or sounds weird. Basically, I just wanted to get out my thoughts and reflections on my life here

Tabaski and New Year's

Sunday, December 31, 2006

According to the lunar calendar that Islamic holidays follow, today was the celebration of Tabaski, or the feast of the sacrifice. The holiday is to remember Abraham’s trust in Allah and the eventual sacrificing of a sheep, which was supposed to have been his son instead.

Over the past few weeks, Dakar has filled up with sheep herders from all over to try and sell their “har” or “mouton”. In Dakar, the most bustling place for this selling is in a huge open space right down the street from my house. Temporary fences have been constructed, and thousands of sheep had been brought in. I wish I had taken a picture of the scene because it was a fascinating sight to see.

The purchase of a sheep is supposed to be done by all males who can afford it. During the time around Tabaski, the price of sheep increases and can range from 40,000 CFA ($80) for a young small one to 500,000+ CFA ($1,000). Because there is a need to purchase the sheep, cab fares and other prices that are negotiated can be more difficult to get a bare minimum price.

Once the sheep are had and Tabaski has arrived, they are sacrificed. In my family, it was very interesting. We had 3 sheep. A small hole was dug and the sheep were cleaned. After that, each sheep was laid and held down by the males of the family and then the sheep’s throat was cut by the male who purchased it. During this time, the females held onto the shirt of the male slitting the throat. I think the purpose of this was so everyone would be connected with the sacrifice. Prayer was also involved as well.

After the killing of the animals, they were skinned and butchered. It was a pretty interesting process. I must say that after seeing some of this, I have some new tailgating ideas for the 2008 UGA football season. The whole process took about an hour and 15 minutes, and the actual cleaning of the sheep was very labor intensive.

During this process, talibe would come by asking for handouts. In order to show respect and your own blessings, you provide them with pieces of raw meat. Also, other families would stop by providing portions of meat to show their thanks. Basically, when it comes down to it, a lot of meat was being exchanged.

Lunch followed shortly after the meat was taken off the grill and like other major holidays I have experienced here, the food definitely rivals Thanksgiving. For the meal we had a lot of meat, two types of salad, fries (helped cut the potatoes the night before), onion sauce, and bissap juice. We all seemed to stuff ourselves and I managed to take a good 3 hour nap afterwards since I could barely move.

In theory, the rest of the day is spent visiting friends and what not. Unfortunately, due to the holiday of New Year’s Eve, I dipped out of the Tabaski celebration and headed to downtown Dakar to be with some friends.

From my end, it was a pretty uneventful New Year’s and far from the fire walking night experienced last year, but downtown was absolutely insane. In the States, fireworks are fairly popular but can be difficult to get. In Dakar, they are more powerful and can be bought from just about any street vendor this time of the year. So, everyone was shooting off fireworks. When you consider that it was difficult to even move and fireworks going off all over the place, it kinda felt like a war zone. I ended up getting hit in the hand by one while my friend got hit in the face. I suppose the reason why it was so crazy and exciting was because it was something that you could never experience in the States. Uncontrolled insanity is the best way to explain it. Needless to say, I am looking forward to New Year’s Eve in Dakar next year.

Memorable Taxi Experiences in Dakar

During my parents’ stay here in Senegal, we managed to log numerous hours in taxi cabs getting around Dakar and back and forth between Thies. In those two weeks, I definitely spent more time in cabs than my nine months here combined. The experiences endured during the time my parents were here, made me think about all my memorable taxi cab experiences since I arrived in Senegal. Here they are…

September 26, 2006 - On the way to a party at the American Club with 3 other Volunteers, we realized long into our trip that the taxi we were in had no brakes. It isn’t everyday that you pull up to an intersection and have to do circles in the median so you don’t hit the stopped cars or cars entering the intersection. Shortly afterwards, we nearly died in a head on collision…I will remember that night the rest of my life.

December 26, 2006 – This was on the last day my parents were in Senegal and I was making trips between the hotel and my house to bring home all sorts of goodies. By that point in our stay at the hotel, I stopped going to the concierge desk asking for a taxi because I was not to keen on the taxi garage they called and just walked outside the hotel groups and hailed cabs. On this trip, I had a large duffle bag, messenger bag, and a rice sack bag, so I just decided to have the concierge call a cab in. Learning from past trips with the cabs utilized by the hotel, the drivers I encountered were terrible and only wanted to rip people off, so before I got in, I told the guy where I was going and told him the price (2,000 CFA or $4), which is somewhat a lot. From my observations, he agreed and understood. About two miles down the road, he pointed to a restaurant and asked if that was where I was going. I kinda looked at him oddly and told him Patte D’Oie (my neighborhood), so we went about a quarter mile down the road and he slowed down and pointed to another restaurant. Once again, I said “Patte D’Oie.” At that point he raised his price to 3,000 CFA which is a ridiculous price and he was taking advantage of the system. I refused to pay or play his little games, so I told him to drive to the police station. Instead of doing that, he said he was driving back to the hotel. Through the course of this, we were having a wolof numb chuck match. I’m sure I said some pretty bad things, but it was warranted. At that point, as he was turning around in the middle of the road, I just opened the door to the cab and made him stop in the road. I got all my stuff out, and right there, was a mini-car (16 passenger vehicle) going right to Patte D’Oie. So, instead of paying 2,000 CFA, I got into the mini-car, paid 200 CFA for two seats (had a lot of stuff) and laughed all the way home. The taxi man shouldn’t have played a game he had no chance in winning…I’m sure he was whining all the way back to the garage.

July 22, 2006 – On the way from downtown to a party in the north western portion of Dakar with another Volunteer and two girls visiting from the States that we were taking care of for the night, the cab driver stopped in a weird part of town, nowhere near where we needed to be, thinking that was were there. We told him he was in the wrong place and he lost it. He tried to raise the price on us and everything. This is after he reassured us he knew where we were going when the price was negotiated. The other Volunteer, Laurel, who had much more experience in Dakar than I, got in a wolof wrestling match with the game. It was her insistence that we go to the nearest Gendarmerie to settle the dispute. After having front row seats for about 5 minutes, it ended with a knockout and the guy relenting to take us to where we were supposed to go.

Fall, 2006 – Taking a cab from downtown Dakar one evening with another volunteer, my stomach began to feel a little gassy. Sometimes, if not all the time, the food does that to you. Because I had the back seat to myself, I felt that I had jurisdiction in getting a little gas out…sometimes you just gotta do it. Well, I don’t know what I ate that night, but the taxi driver’s reaction was what made cab ride a memorable one. He just started shaking his head going “Pas bon, pas bon”. Needless to say, there was some laughter afterwards.

December 14, 2006 – Taking a cab from the hotel Le Meridien President with my parents to the hospital I work at, we got out and paid the taxi driver 3,000 CFA ($6), which I think was the first time I’d paid that much for a cab in Senegal. The taxi driver refused to accept it. At that point, I told my parents to get out of the car. The taxi man was ridiculous but he wouldn’t let me get out of the car. At one point, I think he tried to grab my wallet. Because it was my parents first real day in the city, I really had no choice but to succumb to his intelligence in taking advantage of toubabs. Taxi man won.

December 19, 2006 – Heading out downtown Dakar with my parents, we were going through a residential area and then all of a sudden, you could feel the taxi man had applied the brakes hard, slid a little on the sandy pavement, and hit the stopped car in front of us. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda wanted to laugh, and actually did without the driver knowing. The taxi man got out, pretty much knowing it was all his fault, the driver of the new Peugot got out to inspect the damage, and the funny thing was, was that the taxi incurred all the damage. We were pretty much rolling when the traffic started going again.

Due to the frequency of fender-binders, road rage, and stops by police, they may seem like highlights in the States, but the odds are different here.