Last Tuesday, about noon, they loaded all 64 of us onto
Peace Corps buses. Everyone had two backpacks or suitcases, plus a water
filter, which is about the size of a tall bucket, plus an actual bucket in case
bucket showers were the norm at out CBT sites. The idea was to post each of us
with a family who would help us with our language and our cultural adaptation. We
also had language trainers from the center with us (one per three trainees.)
and we had ag projects to complete while there.
We headed out the main road toward Dakar and after about a
half hour made a right onto a paved road. After about maybe 10 k we got to our
village of Bayagh. It is, I guess, a medium size village. It’s basically a line
of shops on either side of the road—made of stucco or cinder blocks or
corrugated metal. Many of them seem to be plumbing supplies and hardware. There
are a few salons, a watch repair place in a tin shack, one tiny bodega where
you can get semi-cool cokes. Also women squatting on the sidewalk selling
vegetables or roasting peanuts in wok like pans filled with sand.
The bus stopped in the center of town and we got off. My Mom
was there to meet me. She’s probably in her 30s. She was dressed in traditional
garb including a headdress. She led me home, down a steep and rutted sandy street just a short ways to their house.
It’s a really nice place. My family-mom, dad, three
daughters and three sons-seem to be upper middle class. The house has four
bedroom, a kitchen, three outdoor areas and a real bathroom with a squat toilet
and a real shower. One of the outdoor areas is used for cooking over a charcoal
stove. Another is where they wash and dry clothes. They have a gas stove in the
kitchen but they never seem to use it.
My room is a good size with a window a bed and a few hooks
on the wall. (I went out and bought a fan the second day and it changed my
life.)
Shortly after I arrived lunch was served in Senegal style.
Everyone sits around a large aluminum bowl on the floor. In the bowl,
typically, is rice or millet or couscous with a sauce (generally a kind of
onion gravy, and a protein in the middle. The mom then breaks up the meat or
chicken or fish with her fingers and tosses a bit in front of everyone. She
eats with her hands. (Well, right hand only) but the rest of our family uses a
spoon. Dinner is much the same and so in the next days lunch with just the
grain and the protein alternating. Always bread too. It’s a carb heavy diet.
It’s always a bit spicy. Very tasty though kind of monotonous. Breakfast is always
French bred with either that onion gravy or margarine or mayonnaise (!). I’ll
be bringing peanut butter next time. (We are going back again Wednesday and
will alternate between there and the training site for the rest of the time.)
The family is really nice and eager to help. Lucky for me
the mom and dad both speak English and French. While there we had 5 or 6 hours
of language training a day and spent several hours in the garden – which we are
creating at a school – making beds, compost, etc.… the school kids are
fascinated by us and were very willing to help out.
In the evenings I sit with the family for a while as they
mostly watch Indian soap operas dubbed into French. I spend time studying and
reading and usually went to bed early.
The main issue for me there is that there is nowhere to go:
no cafes or coffee shops . My buddy (from Worcester) and I found one
restaurant in town but it looked kind of sketchy might give it a go this
weekend.
The town—and all of Senegal that I have seen so far is sand.
There’s no grass or lawns in Bayagh and hardly any trees. My family’s house is
on a sand alley. There is a big empty sand lot behind the house, not sure if
it’s my family’s property or not. That’s where the kids gather to play soccer
and lots of chickens hand out. And where my “dad” parks his truck. (yes, he has
a 4-wheel drive pickup!) The lot, like all lots and roads and alley’s in town
and covered with trash: plastic, rags, paper, etc… so I’ve decided that my
secondary project will be designed around clean up and recycling. I already
have an idea for a marketing plan. I’m going to write a children’s story in
Wolof called “Muus ci Mbuus” that translates to—not the cat in the hat, but the
Cat in the Plastic Bag. You can only imagine what kind of adventures he will
have.