Sick Bay Inmate

No, not guards outside the Peace Corps sickbay. It's the scene outside the Presidential Palace

Welcome to the Hospital California--aka the Peace CorpsMed Hut--where you can check out anytime, but you can never leave. Once they get their rubber-gloved hands on you here, they never loosen their grip. It has been 16 days since I checked in here. I thought i would be out in one. But nothing is ever that simple in the Peace Corps. I came because i had lost a crown from a tooth while on vacation in Portugal. I didn't actually lose it; i saved it in a small baggy and brought it back to Dakar. I thought it would be a simple matter just to pop it back on. No such luck. While fishing around in my mouth, the dentist found a cavity in my uncapped tooth, Filling it meant that the old cap wouldn't fit anymore. So he had to fit me for a new one. that, of course, wouldn't be back from the lab for a week. In the meantime, I had a appointment with a cardiologist. I managed to sneak away for a few days for a workshop in Theis, but had to return early to get the new cap. But after i took the train back to Dakar, and went directly to the dentist's office, well, the cap didn't quite fit.

No worries said the Lebanese dentist. (He really didn't put it that way. He's not Australian. but that was his point.) Just leave it in overnight, and hopefully it will settle. (Actually, this is said in an amalgam of English and French.) Well, that seemed kind of strange to me, but well, he's the doctor.

So I grabbed an espresso and hopped a cab back to sickbay, way uptown. A bit later, as i was eating dinner i felt a sharp shard in my mouth. It was, of course, a piece of the new cap. That killed my chance of returning to the workshop the next day, Friday. I went to the dentist instead. Time to have a new cap make, he decided. That meant i would be spending the weekend in sick bay.

Fortunately, some friends were in Dakar, and we dined on Indian food (not bad) and seafood at Maree at the Point de Almadies (excellent).

 I had an appointment for Tuesday morning to receive the new cap and that afternoon to see the cardiologist. The cap fit perfectly so it was back to sick bay. All of this back and forth is costing me money. Sometimes a PC driver takes me. Most often i have to catch a cab back for 3,000 CFAs. I got a ride to the cardiologist later with a Peace Corps driver. Once there i learned that the appointment was for Wednesday, not Tuesday!

Tuesday, October 13

After a few days back in Theis, we were scheduled to leave for our second CBT at 8:00 am, so I got up at 7:00 after spending a restless night. Nerves I guess, about going back into the awkwardness of living with my new family. I finished packing, and headed to the mess hall for breakfast. There was no breakfast. No bread. No tea or coffee. There was internet access for a change, though, and the messages that had been clogging up my outbox all flowed out. A few things came in as well.

Anyway, we rolled out of camp about an hour late just as it started to rain. So we had to pull off the highway so the driver could get out and cover all the bags riding on top of the bus with a tarp. Then the bus broke down. So we waited as someone tried to figure out what to do. Eventually a bunch of us got out and pushed it into a jump-start. Off we go.

So we got to Bayagh around 10:30 and were told that language lessons start at 11:00. When I got to my home, Mom and Dad were on their way out, and there is no breakfast in sight. So I grabbed an apple and a peach and off I went. Lesson was as head-aching as usual. Sidi, our instructor (jangalekat) is good, but we have to do a lot in a short amount of time. After a two hour lesson, it was back home for lunch, then a nap, to the garden for a quick check, and then back to Wolof lessons at four til six, then back to the garden where we did some serious digging. I did manage to get my hands in the dirt and plant some tomatoes, eggplant, and peppers and that made it all worthwhile.  Then it was back home for dinner which my Mom, Atta served me in my room. It seemed to be some kind of pea gruel in evaporated milk. Word is the peace corps has told the families it must serve this sort of thing to us from time to time.

The content of this blog do not reflect the thoughts, philosophy or beliefs of the U.S. Peace Corps. The opinions are those of the author alone.

Settling in in Louga

 
 Where's the Beef? 

Louga is kind of like Fort Worth, Texas, but without the charm. (Being facetious here.) Louga is a cattle town. It northern Senegal's main transfer station for beef on the hoof. I often see herds of longhorns being driven down the road. (Not driven in a bus or truck, but driven as in a cowboy cow drive.) I'm not sure where they are going, but man, there sure are a lot of open-air beef butchers in the market.

So I have been here one month and I have apparently seen the “cool season" come and go. It was really quite comfortable here for a few weeks, but now, even though the early mornings are cool, the afternoons are heating up into the high 90s again. When I go out it feels like the sun is a few million miles closer than it is in New England. Maybe it actually is. I don’t know.

Louga is all about the markets. There are several of them. Three of them intermingle in the middle of town and snake out through sandy side streets. Most of of the markets are out in the open air, but there are some claustrophobic covered areas with narrow dark passageways. There’s a lot of stuff in these markets, but, truth be told, it’s pretty much the same stuff over and over again. There are the standard vegetables: carrots, lettuce, eggplant, bitter tomatoes. For the life of me I can’t understand why people grow, and how people sell, the latter. It tastes terrible and I don’t think anybody really likes it. But check your ceebujen bowl at lunchtime and odds are it will be in there.

Then there’s the used clothing, piled in heaps on the ground with American company logos or insignias from U.S. parks or towns. I imagine this stuff comes straight from those clothing collection boxes you find at Wal-Mart or behind the gas station.

There is new clothing too, like outfits representing all the Premier League football clubs. All of it made in China, I’m sure. If you want cool clothing here, you have to go to a tailor and get it made.

What do I do for fun here? Well, I bought a basketball. (And I am proud that I bargained the price down from 11 mille to 7.) I take it to the old stadium down my street, where I shoot hoops with random kids who happen to be around.

When I told the girls in my family that I had bought a basketball, they got all excited, so I made a date to play ball with them on Sunday. I brought the ball over to the compound at lunchtime and they tossed it around and dribbled between their legs and had a blast.

By the end of our three hour lunch, I was feeling beat and all of the kids had disappeared, so I took my ball and left for home. Ten minutes later I heard pounding on my front door and little voices calling “Cheikh! Cheikh!” It was the girls of course. (And one boy, Papi) The were all dressed in their clean basketball shorts and jerseys and ready to rock the court.

So we walked down the sandy road to the court with Coumba and Papi spontaneously taking me by the hand along the way. Once there we were engulfed in dribbling, passing, shooting, running chaos, with a couple of the girls showing real skills. Then, suddenly with no warning, they were done and we went back to my apartment where I gave them a pack of crackers and sent them on their way.

They were all gone for awhile, presumably for the Gamou, and I missed them. But with most of my family gone I found myself spending less time at the compound, and more at home or around town. I rode my bike out to the post office today to see if, by chance, there were any Christmas presents waiting for me there. But it was closed! Why? The day after Gamou and the day before Christmas? No idea. On the way back I stopped at the bus station to get an idea of how much it would cost to take my bike with me on a sept-place to Saint-Louis. Five mille, the guy said. I laughed and offered him two. He came back at three. If I can get him to two next time I go to Saint-Louis I will be happy.

Then I went the market where I tried to get some plastic lawn chairs for less that four mille each without success. But while wandering around I spontaneously decided to take a chance on some beef at one of the fresh-air butchers. I got a nice hunk of good looking meat for a few bucks and took it home for chili.

Eight hours later, I am still alive. The chili was good, but the beef was tough.

Then it was Christmas Day. Christmas in Senegal doesn’t feel like Christmas at all so I decided to not try to make it feel like Christmas. Just another day off. I had my usual breakfast of hard boiled eggs on a baguette from the sandwich lady on the corner. Then I went off to the Catholic church. It was a long service, but man the choir was great! Then I was off to lunch with my family. When I told my Dad that I was going home to call my family in the states, he sweetly asked me to wish them joyeux noel. Nice.

It’s an odd day here. There’s been a thick cloud cover all day and it feels unusually humid. Usually it’s sunny and dry.  


The content of this blog do not reflect the thoughts, philosophy or beliefs of the U.S. Peace Corps. The opinions are those of the author alone.

Swearing In and Shipping Out

I made it! I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, after swearing in Friday, December 4 at Ebbets Field (yes, Ebbets Field) in Dakar. There were times, I confess that I didn’t know if I would make it this far. But I did. I think I just barely passed my language exam, but I did pass. There were four people who didn’t, including my roommate and a good friend. They have to stay at training for another week, then take a second exam.

Swearing in had all of the pomp and circumstance you might imagine. What I will remember the most is the jumble of bright colors of all of our women volunteers in their compleats and headdresses. It started with an early wakeup and a crowded bus ride into Dakar. Once at the field it all went rather smoothly. There were remarks by the ambassador and four of my stage mates spoke in the Senegalese language they each learned. They did great. Then there was a right hand raised thing and, boom, we were in.

That was followed by mocktails and snacks, live music and a little dancing. Plus, of course, more paperwork to sign. Then we made a surprise stop at the Dakar office for flu shots for all. 

I packed quickly that night back in Theis, then is was an early departure to the Saint-Louis regional house where i would spend a few days, before being installed in Louga. Not really sure how this system works. It would have been just as easy to drop me in Louga on the way by, but this is the way they do it. Others have to shop for supplies and furnishings for their new sites, but I am pretty much set. 

I was up at 6:00 Saturday morning to load the car. it was pitch black. Funny thing about living on the equator: not only are the days always the same length, but there is virtually no dawn or dusk. one minute it's dark, the next, it's daylight. 

But for the moment, it is dark. The compound is behaving like an evacuation scene in a war movie. People trudging through the dark weighed down with satchels and backpacks. idling cars spewing exhaust even darker than the night. Headlights splitting the murky air. And i am searching to say goodbye to friends. 

But there is no time. I have to load  all of my possessions including a water filter, floor fan, bicycle, buckets, suitcases, backpacks into the waiting sept-place, a beat up old Peugeot wagon--the most reliable means of public transportation between cities in Senegal. And i have to do it fast. Actually, I am not sure why i have to do it fast. What's the difference if we arrive at 10:00 or 11:00 or even sometime in the afternoon. Practically, there is none. But that's the Peace Corps way. 

So we got there by 10:30 and I spent four days decompressing, exploring, shopping for Christmas presents and swimming. 

I am here for a few days, and Wednesday some Peace Corps folks will come pick me (and all my stuff) up and take me to Louga, take me to meet people I need to meet. And then I am on my own.

***

Now, my first day in Louga is just about done. I think i can do this. I got up early and went to the sandwich lady around the corner and got an egg sandwich and a cafe touba (75 cents) without any problem, and chatted a bit with my neighbour on the way there. Then i got on my bike and rode to the Cultural Center in town when we have a small demonstration garden. I wasn’t expected there, but i found the gardener whom I had met when I was here a month ago. I checked out the garden then made plans to come back next week and help him out. (Basically I was only speaking Wolof there.) Then I went to the outdoor market and tried to find the Eco-bank. Everyone i asked sent me in a different direction and i never found it. I did find a bike shop  though. Then I went to my family’s house for lunch and told my “dad” that my mini-fridge wasn’t working. “It has no ice,” I said. I had a long lunch there then came back to my place to meet the other Louga PCV. (She’s in economic development, not ag.) Then my dad came by with a refrigerator repair guy. We made a call to the Peace Corps and found out i wouldn’t be reimbursed for the repair but I told him to go ahead. Soon, i will head back to my family for dinner. (I won’t be doing that every night, but don’t have the energy for cooking tonight.)

Oh, and i got a new name. I am now Cheikh Niang.