Wednesday, November 08, 2006
It's hot
Actually really hot. Who was I kidding? I told myself that the cold season was coming (sometimes at night I approach the sheet bunched up at the end of my bed). But no. I visited some American missionaries in town today, and you can always count on them for knowing the temperature in a number system that I can understand. Turns out that the middle of the day reaches 105 and the coolest time, early morning, is about 75 F. Certainly put things in perspective for me, ha!
Monday, November 06, 2006
I think there are fire ants in my mattress
Before I continue, for those of you that are interested, there are new photos up in my Snapfish account. Snapfish.com Email address is meryl.guyer@gmail.com and Password is Senegal. The October 2006 album is new and there are even little captions.
I wanted to include a few photos from the week of the funeral because I actually got a few with me in them and realize that they might be more interesting than bunches of Senegalese people that you don't know :) The funeral itself was solemn, but also really beautiful. The house filled with people from all over the country who came to pay their respects. I think that everyone in the family was quite honored.
The women cooking in 18 big pots for all the guests.
trying to help out, but mainly playing for the camera
Me and Pape
It's a Monday, and I can understand that... but even after a year, I can't help being annoyed when the person I am scheduled to meet with Monday at 9 am is still on an extended weekend in Dakar... and then the person I should meet at 11 has gone to the "allebi", the bush, which somehow takes on a black-hole/vacuum-esque quality whose absorbing force cannot be measured. "Do you know when he will be back?" Response "Eh, he went to the allebi" from this I am supposed to understand a timeframe...? So I resigned myself to whatever catch-up work I could get done in my office.
The office is quite a place. Like so many of us I think, I dread going to the office. But I maintain that my reasons are different. Every time I approach the building, an old colonial style that also houses the offices of the city Prefect, I have to playfully banter with the 6 idle adult males at the door. What makes my stomach turn is not how every morning I do the same act through gritted teeth "no, I can't be your wife, you are too ugly for me... no I can't take you to America... no, I still can't cook ceeb u diene" but actually the fact they are adult men who are getting paid just to sit around. They are somehow employees. Of what and for what is the great mystery. One might be a driver... there's another guy who sorts the mail (? In a country with 40% literacy and almost atrophied local government, let's be honest the Prefect does not get that much mail)... who knows what the other 4 guys do. But they are always there. In fact, after I tried to shut my door to my office today and in so doing shattered a lightbulb on my head, one of these men told me that he was the one that pulled the wiring out of the wall and let it hang there, putting the bulb in the way of the door. Hmmmmm.... Very effective....
The morning did turn around though-- I was preparing and translating lesson plans when I had my other mid-morning visitors. the guinea hens were back. Every day they roll in around 11:30... usually I just shoo them away and its not a big deal. What would possibly attract a pack of guinea hens to my cement and tile office anyway? And have you ever seen a guinea hen? I will try to get a photo, but they must be a Dr. Seuss creation-- an oversized oblong body set at a steep angle that looks almost like a football in a stand, and then a goofy little head that pokes up and around like an ostrich. Anyway, this particular morning caught me distracted and I ignored the hens pecking around on my floor for a few minutes. When I finally looked up again from my computer the ring leader had hopped onto the chair across the desk from me and sat there demanding answers. "Oh you too?" Until this very moment I am wondering how such an unwieldy body and useless wings got that hen all the way up onto the chair.
It seemed to coincide with the turmoil I have in my head. I can't get two thoughts together myself and this stupid half-ostrich is demanding answers? I'm caught in this endless debate about what to do after Peace Corps and I have no idea where to go. So here it is guys, this is the real chance to give me your opinions. What is a good field? Where can I make enough money to put an end to my rice and pounded leaf sauce diet? Do I need to go back to school? I was thinking med school but exploring options and who knows? Journalism? Public Policy? Could I really be a doctor? It's not all that far away...
I wanted to include a few photos from the week of the funeral because I actually got a few with me in them and realize that they might be more interesting than bunches of Senegalese people that you don't know :) The funeral itself was solemn, but also really beautiful. The house filled with people from all over the country who came to pay their respects. I think that everyone in the family was quite honored.
The women cooking in 18 big pots for all the guests.
trying to help out, but mainly playing for the camera
Me and Pape
It's a Monday, and I can understand that... but even after a year, I can't help being annoyed when the person I am scheduled to meet with Monday at 9 am is still on an extended weekend in Dakar... and then the person I should meet at 11 has gone to the "allebi", the bush, which somehow takes on a black-hole/vacuum-esque quality whose absorbing force cannot be measured. "Do you know when he will be back?" Response "Eh, he went to the allebi" from this I am supposed to understand a timeframe...? So I resigned myself to whatever catch-up work I could get done in my office.
The office is quite a place. Like so many of us I think, I dread going to the office. But I maintain that my reasons are different. Every time I approach the building, an old colonial style that also houses the offices of the city Prefect, I have to playfully banter with the 6 idle adult males at the door. What makes my stomach turn is not how every morning I do the same act through gritted teeth "no, I can't be your wife, you are too ugly for me... no I can't take you to America... no, I still can't cook ceeb u diene" but actually the fact they are adult men who are getting paid just to sit around. They are somehow employees. Of what and for what is the great mystery. One might be a driver... there's another guy who sorts the mail (? In a country with 40% literacy and almost atrophied local government, let's be honest the Prefect does not get that much mail)... who knows what the other 4 guys do. But they are always there. In fact, after I tried to shut my door to my office today and in so doing shattered a lightbulb on my head, one of these men told me that he was the one that pulled the wiring out of the wall and let it hang there, putting the bulb in the way of the door. Hmmmmm.... Very effective....
The morning did turn around though-- I was preparing and translating lesson plans when I had my other mid-morning visitors. the guinea hens were back. Every day they roll in around 11:30... usually I just shoo them away and its not a big deal. What would possibly attract a pack of guinea hens to my cement and tile office anyway? And have you ever seen a guinea hen? I will try to get a photo, but they must be a Dr. Seuss creation-- an oversized oblong body set at a steep angle that looks almost like a football in a stand, and then a goofy little head that pokes up and around like an ostrich. Anyway, this particular morning caught me distracted and I ignored the hens pecking around on my floor for a few minutes. When I finally looked up again from my computer the ring leader had hopped onto the chair across the desk from me and sat there demanding answers. "Oh you too?" Until this very moment I am wondering how such an unwieldy body and useless wings got that hen all the way up onto the chair.
It seemed to coincide with the turmoil I have in my head. I can't get two thoughts together myself and this stupid half-ostrich is demanding answers? I'm caught in this endless debate about what to do after Peace Corps and I have no idea where to go. So here it is guys, this is the real chance to give me your opinions. What is a good field? Where can I make enough money to put an end to my rice and pounded leaf sauce diet? Do I need to go back to school? I was thinking med school but exploring options and who knows? Journalism? Public Policy? Could I really be a doctor? It's not all that far away...
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