Good Vibrations

0ctober 21 Wednesday

It turned out to be a good day today even though I woke up feeling a bit sleep- deprived and had some stomach issues throughout the day. I started the day by watering the garden. It would have been nice to have a hose, but carrying watering cans for a half hour was not the worst thing. It reminded me of those quiet and peaceful early mornings watering the plants in the nursery where I worked in Vermont. I had a pretty good Wolof session with Sidy. He was very positive about my recitation. After lunch of ceebujen I took a short nap then had my room cleaned. Atta insisted that I lay in bed as she and the kids swept and scrubbed the floor. It really needed it. Then I went off to the cyber café. I still couldn’t get on his WiFi but did manage to send a couple of emails on his desktop machine. He also had found my missing water bottle. That was good. I had to rush home to take care of some digestive business, but found my clean-and-pressed laundry waiting for me. I feared it had been ruined by the pack of cigars found in the pocket after they went into the wash water. (Everything is washed and scrubbed by hand in big tubs on the patio, then hung out there to dry.) I’m supposed to do my own laundry, according the Peace Corps, but my family won’t hear of it.

When I came back from the garden at the end of the day I told my Senegal mom that I was feeling a bit feebar and pointed to my stomach. She asked it if was something I ate. I didn’t want her to think it was caused by her cooking so I mentioned that “Café touba la naan ci marse.” (I had a café touba in the market.) “No!” she said. “Don’t eat anything on the street. If you want a café touba or anything else you tell me and I will make it.” My dad reiterated at dinner. (Very nice of them, but  I still want to try the town’s one and only restaurant.)

File that under: life is irony. I remember how I used to complain that Lauren wanted to eat out at night and telling her that I was just as happy to cook and eat in all the time. Watch out what you wish for. Another bald statement exposed for what it was. But tonight we had a treat, something like beef stew, and a very peppery stew at that. It was delicious. It was the first time we’ve had red meat here with the exception of the occasional spam.

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.

The Change in the Weather is Not Gonna be Extreme

Sunday October 19

If interesting and unfamiliar and amazing things are happening all around you but there is no way to send words or pictures to anyone are they really happening? Of course they are. But I am really jonesing to tell people about Senegal-- all the little things that happen daily, like having tater tot sandwiches for breakfast. Or the way they will serve any crazy thing they can get their hands with Mbouro (bread) for breakfast, like mayonnaise, fish paste, margarine, onion sauce, spam--but never peanut butter, not in my house.  Some families serve a Nutella kind of thing but not mine.

When we first got here a few kids came to the garden and they were interested in what we were doing and happy to help. More and more kids kept arriving. Someone started paying them off in candy. Today, they were there making mischief and said they wouldn’t leave unless we paid them. I tried to call our host national language instructor, but while I was on the phone I told the kids I was calling the gendarmes and they scattered.

I think the weather really is cooling down a bit. Today there was a strong breeze and turned it into the kind of day in which you didn’t sweat just standing still. I had a tough language day in which he asked each of us open-ended questions such as "Kan mooy Warren?" Who is Warren? Or what will you do in Theis? But being on the spot as I tried to figure them out seemed very helpful. That, I think, is what the exam format will be like.

Oh, I found the mysterious Internet café up at the market place. I just went snooping around until I found a storefront with a number of computer workstations on table, and a price list on the wall. The owner came out and we talked in English, French and Wolof. He was very helpful. Said he would welcome me anytime. That I should consider it my home. He loves to talk to Americans, but unfortunately the power was out at the time. I will check it again tomorrow.

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.

Friday? What’s That?

Friday, October 16.

I miss the good old American Fridays with the happy anticipation that goes along with them: the happy hour after work, the relaxing night with a Netflix movie on, the sleeping in the next day. Here there is nothing to look forward to but studying, working in the garden, and… heat. We have been working and studying for nearly 20 days straight now, with no break in sight. Today we went to the garden at 9:00 to water the transplants we put in last night. Then I went to Sidi’s at 11:00 for a two hour lesson, then lunch of ceebujen, then back to the garden at 3:00 to plan out the nursery bed, back to Sidi’s at 4:00 for another two hour lesson, then back to the garden from 6:00 'til 7:00 when it got too dark to work. That was one full day, and I am feeling it.

It will be one week until our first language exam and the pressure is beginning to mount. So I am trying to learn many new words and grammar rules every day.

Saturday 10/18

This is my new favorite time of the day. The highpoint of my day is when we finish in the garden around 6:00 or 7:00. (At 6:30 it will be full daylight and full dark by 7:00) I stop at the butik (boutique/deli/bodega) for a lukewarm soda from the “cooler”. I drink it down, go home and take a cold shower, put on clean clothes, turn on the fan in my room and stretch out on the bed. That’s as good as it gets here in Bayakh.

We’ve just about finished up the garden work. We had a visitor today, a farmer from the next village over. He was very curious about what we were up to. I managed to keep up a conversation in Wolof/English/French.

I hadn’t been feeling well for few days: dizzy and lightheaded in the garden. Dehydration? Maybe, so I mixed up a liter of dehydration salts and that seemed to help just a little. I had a slight fever last night and I realized what was going on… a sinus infection. I got a good night’s sleep last night and feel much better today.

The heat, I can deal with. The garden and language work too. They are both intense but manageable. 

Funny how I talked the talk about how I would be happy to be unplugged. Well, I’m not. I thought I would enjoy the radio silence and a dearth of email and facebook posts, etc. but I guess I’m lonely and homesick. I miss contact with my kids and my friends. I worry that they worry when they don’t hear from me.

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.

Sand Between My Toes

Friday, October10

This town—like all of Senegal that I have seen so far--is sand. There’s no grass or lawn 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 hang out. And that’s 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 cleanup 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.

So the house sits in the midst of the sand and the trash. It’s stucco and tile. It's one story though there’s a stairway inside that seems to lead to a roof deck around an unfinished second story. There’s a walled in foyer at the front door with a big wooden door. Inside the house, the floors are all tile, though the living room floor is covered with rugs. There’s a big comfy red leather chair with tall red leather benches on both sides.

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

Immersion in Bayagh

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.