Meryl Guyer

Milennium Village Project

2007-07-05T14:16:00.001-07:00

I just returned from the states a few days ago and was scolded for not writing enough in this blog. I have to be honest I didn't think anyone was reading it and so I opted for neglect. But I am newly encouraged and always cognizant that memories and experiences (and stories most of all) will be lost if I don't write them here.

Also since I returned from the state I got a new perspective on some of the goings-on around town. Like Jeffery Sachs and the Millennium Village Project (MVP). Sachs has hit on the socially cool and conscious crowds like the iPhone hit hipsters and so I have to weigh in. One of Sachs' "Millennium Development Villages" is actually a regional collective of villages whose eastern-most reaches are a mere 15k from where I live in Louga. I won't go into the details of the project here, mainly since the undertaking is so broad and nebulous that i could not explain in concisely. But you can check it out on the site, or read about it, well anywhere lately. Or you can check out anybody in Hollywood that happens to be wearing the t-shirt.

A few volunteer friends and I had the opportunity to visit several of the work sites a few weeks ago, graciously guided by one of the project's technical agents. We visited massive agricultural plots built into the rich dunes of the Niayes region, an area that cultivates the large majority of Senegal's produce. Our agent guide explained that onion production in the area has doubled since the outset of the project just 1 year ago, allowing sales of the onions to extend to the distant market of Diaobé in the south.

As we toured far-flung villages we occasionally came across farmers making their way to an MVP meeting to receive new instruction on rainy season gardening and additional seed. The farmers knew our guide and driver and vice versa. Often the men in their long robes and conical, broad-rimmed hats climbed into the truck bed for a ride to the next village. Twice we spotted camels grazing on spiny acacia and one we found ourselves mired in sand. One particularly harrowing path bore our hurtling SUV through vegetable fields bordered with cactus. The path was wide enough only for a donkey cart and it would have been an uncomfortable ride even for the donkey. When we piled out of the car shaken and breathless, the car was striped with hairline scratches, smudges of pink from the cactus fruits and the occasional branch or thorn. I had to wonder if much of the MVP's money is lost to car repairs and paint jobs.

The school at which we had arrived had already closed for lunch but before we left the car we already saw school teachers, children and the village chief racing up the hill towards us. Everyone knew it was a visit from MVP and everyone wanted to be present. The group showed us their new classrooms and toilets, courtesy of MVP, which replaces the straw and tin shelters which previously housed the single classroom on the hill. The school's two teachers were present, neither of them older than myself, and we witnessed their precise French lessons written on the board. The second teacher did evening adult literacy education for local women in Pulaar, their native tongue. The group present was extremely proud of the progress they had made, but at the same time the teachers and village chief knew they needed to seize the opportunity to expound on what was still lacking while they had us in front of them. the resulting discussion was more than a little awkward for myself and the other volunteers who had nothing to offer and no influence or background knowledge in the MVP's work, but it was nonetheless an opportunity to learn how well the MVP really works. The water supply for the school was no good, they said. It came out of the pipes bright orange and could not be used to drink or to irrigate crops. Then came out other requests-- the students had no school books and the schools benches had not yet arrived. This all hints at the possibility of a litany of holes in the MVP approach, which attempts to address every physical need with apparently less attention to sustainability, education and capacity building. At the same time, I have learned to become very skeptical and critical of what people ask for before I try to provide it.

I haven't entirely decided whether the MVP will be effective or not (although i seriously doubt it can achieve all that it portends to in the few short years of its duration). But I've broken it down into some pros and cons.

Pros:
1) MVP uses quasi-local professionals to administer the projects. These individuals understand the local language and culture better than any American could.
2) MVP works from the ground up. Local and regional governments are bogged down in bureaucracy.
3) MVP focuses on building financial stability for the region first. By showing local populations that there is money to be earned, they are bound to have good participation.

Cons:
1) The project lasts only a few years, after which its investments will fizzle, or not. It is not clear if an emphasis has been made on local sustainability.
2) MVP appears to do a lot of giving, sometimes without the necessary trainings and public education that is needed. Sometimes this glut of offerings creates dependency and expectations that help will always fall from the sky.
3) In the rush to build and produce it seems that some basic needs have been overlooked, like potable water in the village we visited.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences with the MVP (especially those of you who are on the ground working with the projects). I think I would still put my money with MVP, they have been generous and ambitious about fixing problems. But I have my reservations.

All my best!

Wolof Words

2007-06-09T07:43:00.000-07:00

I am always amazed by the Wolof language. It is simple. There are few words that have more than 2 or perhaps 3 syllables. It is direct. The elaborate twisting of sentences we have in French or English doesn't exist. It is vibrant. and loud. Most statements can easily be confused with shouts, expletives or arguments. It is funny. A good looking girl is a "diskette,"
an attractive boyfriend is an "expensive fish." And most of all it is absolutely unique to life in Senegal. There is a specific word for "to be able to carry something alone all of the way". There is a word that means "to prepare the spices for stuffing the fish". There is equally a word for carrying something on your head. I recently learned that there is a Wolof word for being pickpocketed. From a sort of nerdy, linguistic point of view, this is interesting. Most new inventions don't have Wolof names, only imports from the French language. But "pickpocketing" has a Wolof name? Did it exist way back when? Or is it just one of those rare words that was specially assigned its own word? And why "pickpocketing"? Why not "email" like the French "courriel". I guess some legacies just don't last

Lions!

2007-05-09T04:47:00.000-07:00

First of all, it is really unbelievably hot here-- so hot that after barely 1o days of working I am exhausted and so dehydrated from walking in the sun that my hands shake. But I'm not complaining :) It's time for a vacation!

Second, a funny story to share... just because I have no shame. I was supposed to meet a client yesterday at 3:30 to go visit a bank together before I started a training at 5 pm. He was early, so came by my room to see where I was. I told him I would be there in a minute and he went to sit with some family members. So I rushed to get dressed and started to gather my stuff for the training. I brought my bag and kit out and set them down next to my 20-year-old host brother, who is really shy and who I have just started to be close to. We were chatting a bit when I realized that I had forgotten something in my room. I turned to go back into the room, turning my back to him and at the same time reached back to check the zipper on my dress-- which I naturally had forgotten to zip. I very calmly zipped it and continued walking to my room.... but ever since then I have not seen my brother once! I am pretty sure he was mortified to see me so exposed in a country where I don't even show my knees!...

In other, more PC news... I visited a "simb" the other day, also known as "faux lions" or fake lions. It's a sort of a neighborhood fair/block party to raise money for the local community associations. Essentially big scary men dress up in costume and dance and act and also "trap" people from outside who do not pay tickets to come inside, then they bring these poor souls into the middle of the whole crowd and make them do silly tricks. Of course I got singled out 4 separate times since I was the only white person for miles around, but I had a great time with it, and my sisters really got a kick out of it too. Most impressive was the man with a body-builder physique dressed in drag and the man on stilts who did crazy Senegalese dance in the deep sand. Truly impressive. So I hope you enjoy the photos :)

Excellent MicroCredit Article

2007-03-27T15:22:00.000-07:00

This article demystifies micro-credit lending for anyone interested. Accurate, concise and entertaining, it provides real feedback on the variety of lending sites out there. Read it!

A Good Run for your Money: Which microlender makes best use of your $20?

Gotta love days like these

2007-03-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

There have been some excellent happenings around town...

there is a new baby in the family who is totally sweet. just 6 or 7 little pounds and only opens her eyes a few times a day, but I love her all the same.

there is going to be (inch'allah) a new volunteer in Louga! I can't tell you how excited I am about this (my very own little baby to welcome into the world!) Not really, but with both of my neighbors and practically half of the volunteers I am in touch with checking out in the next two months, I think I will need the new company. And plus, this volunteer will work in Urban Agriculture, which I think is sorely needed in this town. You can see some photos of a training we recently did with a women's group on gardening in alternative containers. A visiting volunteer led the training and I supplemented with a little business knowledge. I've been following up with these women and they are awesome, super self-motivated and they don't get discouraged when the lizards eat their plants, they just fix the problem (alxamdoullilahi)

tomorrow is my first real session with the girls club-- a group of 20 or so high performing girls from a local middle school, led by last year's scholarship winner ($50 to buy school supplies). It will be a little tricky to get our program to fit into the girls' schedules, especially since the school will be striking, taking a 15-day vacation for Easter (you'd never know they were all Muslim) and ending in late May but we will make it happen. On the plan for this year are learning to use the Internet, learning to do dynamic presentations and improved research (on figures in African American history), a meeting with professional women and career discussion , an exchange of American and Senegalese cuisine and maybe even a visit to the American Embassy in Dakar where there is a great library for the students to use and maybe even a chance to meet with one of the women who works there. Budget poses a little bit of a problem (as it always does) but the school will help a little bit and we will find some money somewhere else I hope!

We are still cooking on occasion (made okonomiyaki the other day in my bathroom/kitchen/storage room) which turned out to be delicious and in my absolute boredom and (let's be honest) curiosity, I also pickled several pounds of beets. Hey, whatever keeps you sane. Cheers!

Media Frenzy

2007-02-26T12:53:00.000-08:00

here are two links from my mom and my brother with good stuff on Senegal

First the elections-- which came and went with really no serious event other than some pep-rally like cheering sections in the streets. The NYTimes covered it here

Senegalese Vote Hinges on Views of Economic Growth

I really like the article for some its summary of what Ablaye Wade means for the country-- he has a long political past here and I am still trying to figure out all of it.

Second is a film made in the south of the country. I love the images in it. The people are very real Senegalese (the film-maker used an all-local dance and theater troupe) and the scenery is of course, true to life. Maybe the story is a little trite (clearly made by a european white guy) but still worth a look.

Binta and the Great Idea

Tomorrow is Election Day

2007-02-24T14:19:00.000-08:00

That's the big news (that and my Senegalese god-daughter will be named tomorrow). There is some interesting info on the elections here: BBC provides short synopses for 10 of the 15 Presidential candidates.

Here is a blatant personal opinion regarding these elections and all the hype coming from within senegal and from the US. Whether or not these elections are fair and transparent, I really don't think that there is much to worry about. Everything we hear is about threat of violence or corruption, etc. In reality, I think the transition (or retention) of power will pass just as peacefully as anything else here. It certainly will not surpass your average school strike or rowdy soccer game. And as far as corruption? the only thing rigging votes are lack of infrastructure and a new and completely untested voting system. So why did the US have to issue a press release asking pretty please Senegal will you have free and open elections? Yes. they are trying, it is not that simple.

Cooking class

2007-01-28T13:29:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time coming, and the other day when yet another class was canceled due to no-shows I took the opportunity to be home early and learn how to cook a Senegalese dish start to finish. I'm so proud of what I learned that I want to share a little bit about it.

The dish is called "domoda," a classic Senegambian fish and rice combo with a thick tomato-y sauce and all the regular veggies, cabbage, manioc, carrots, turnips, squash, etc. the details of all the prep aren't terribly exciting. But then there came the moment that I was asked to squish the tomatoes one by one with my bare hands. How satisfying. And it got better. We started frying the fish up a little bit and suddenly it all made sense. I had never been able to figure out the tiny, slightly irregular marble-type things in the food. But here they were, fried fish eyeballs. Who knew they could balloon like that?

once we finished prep for lunch it was time to get started on dinner. In Senegalese cuisine lunch is the main meal. It requires a long time to cook and is usually quite a bit more expensive (and tasty) than dinner. For dinner, we tend to have a little bit of rice with bits of dried fish or kinds of meat 'extras', stomach, organs and the like. The dried fish, known as "ketcha" that ends up in these dishes is very inexpensive because it is actually fish that has started to spoil and then was dried and salted. I've known this for a long time and I guess I learned to live with it (and the strong taste that comes with it). Habit can change I suppose. Well for dinner I got to prepare the ketcha. I was handed a paper bag with three dried fish in it and told to pick out the bones. I started to work using my best knowledge of the anatomy of a fish and was bent intently over my task when I realized that in the effort to pick out the tiny bones I had completely ignored the fact that I was actually digging right into maggots. I was more than a little shocked, but I couldn't drop the fish and make a scene... it is, after all, the same dish we eat almost every day. So I leaned casually over to my sister and asked her about it. She told me I was doing just fine... when we washed the fish later all the maggots would come off.

Bon appetit!

a turning of the tides

2007-01-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

What an amazing week. It doesn’t get any better. And I say this despite a long-standing love/hate relationship with peace corps… I’m completely serious, this is why I came. On the eve of 16 months in country I can say that okay, I’m starting to figure some things out. It’s never been any secret that I had trouble adjusting to society here, and I might be understating the fact if I said that Wolofs weren’t the first to welcome us with open arms into their communities but of all of a sudden I am starting to feel like I halfway belong here.

Here are some of the colorful people that have made life in Louga so enjoyable recently.
Last Saturday I taught a really small computer class (meaning that one person showed up) but it was still entertaining. The guy that I taught is one of the administrators of the school and possibly the goofiest guy I have met in Senegal. He weighs no more than 80 lbs. and has a lively personality, always exclaiming in Arabic when I show him how to change text to italics and so on. What I love about this job is that when I give the teachers something very simple to copy out and format on the computer I get such colorful interpretations. Today a short letter announcing a new class included such phrases as “decentralized development” and “powerful is my teacher Fary Sarr” (Fary Sarr being my Wolof name). How could you not love this from the Wolof version of Screech?

The following day I taught again. This time I was terrified (I literally was feeling sick to my stomach with fear in the hours leading up to the class. 30+ hard-talking older Wolof women in their first ever literacy program were going to participate in a basic business skills class. Introduced by? Fary Sarr. The mix was all wrong for an ivory-tower white girl from Indiana. And then somehow it worked. Somehow the women got it (bless their little hearts) and somehow they tolerated my mediocre Wolof, and somehow they got the answers right, at least some of the time. They clapped at the end (I should have been expecting a barrage of insults and rotten fruit) and I wanted to dance. I might have given them a butt wiggle or two.

The following day, another class. This time school dropouts, girls from age 15-20 signed up for a basic sewing school. they might be more scary than the older women. I have battled with this class for more than a year, always trying to design lesson plans that they can manage with a minimum of literacy and that will actually serve them in the work they are preparing. I’ve tried mentoring sessions, games, discussions, homework. Everything. So I resigned myself to teaching costing; thinking there was no possible way it would be understood, but at least I would feel like I was actually teaching something about businesses. The topic was awfully theoretical for them, but we muddled through it (what qualifies as a direct or indirect cost) and I was honestly so proud of them. They struggled to understand our rules and definitions for each type of cost and at the end I apologized for how difficult the lesson was. A couple of the girls honestly sat straight up and said, no, it was a fun class. Wow, who would have thought? It made me realize that maybe its not that these girls don’t like to try to analyze and study, but maybe they just never had the chance to give it a try?

Wednesday, another class. Female scholarship candidates from a local middle school. Hair extensions, tight jeans and attitudes. I started out getting blank stares in response to my pleas for introductions. I had started in French since these are the best performing girls in the middle school and ought to speak very good French. So I tried again in wolof and the room erupted. The same girls who stared out at me under heavy eyelids were spouting questions. Do you sweep? Where are your Wolof clothes? Why don’t you wear earrings? Are you Muslim? Do you pray? Can you dance? Do you sweep? Can you cook ceebujen? Do you eat rice? On a normal day I would be furious at this barrage of questions. These are all the criteria that make a “good Wolof girl” and I usually just get annoyed that I am expected to fit a mold that has nothing to do with my own identity. But I guess on this particular day, I was just happy to have won them over. I was maybe still a little disappointed that their view of the world was limited (at least in my opinion), so I proposed a club where we could get together every week and get to know each other better. I saw some other volunteers do this with success and I’m hoping that I can pull it off as well. So, if all goes to plan, we will do recipe exchanges, discussions on culture, activities for painting, singing dancing and any other number of activities. If you have any ideas please let me know! We are definitely limited because we have no budget, but we are looking for fun and educational plans.

This is really a lot for one day, so I will save news on the bird park, the Catholic women’s group and other stuff for another post. Diam ak Khewoul!

A few tasty treats

2006-12-31T15:02:00.000-08:00

Today is Tabaski. At least that is what they call it here. It is based on a story that I think is quite similar to the Bible story of Abraham sacrificing his favorite son, who is later stopped by the Angel Gabriel? Am I totally mixing this up? In any case, in the story that I have been told here, Ibrahim is going to sacrifice his son Ismaellah according to God’s wishes and at the last moment, Ismaellah is replaced by a ram. So on Tabaski, every head of family buys a ram to sacrifice. This morning we sacrificed 6 rams, and thus I have just finished my third meal of the day of ram meat and onion sauce. Yum. I won’t eat for another two weeks to be sure.

After that, we all get dressed up in nice new clothes and go around visiting people’s homes. We ask forgiveness for our sins from other families in the neighborhood and then we wish them health and prosperity in the coming year. So here are a couple pics for you. Enjoy!

2006-12-11T13:47:00.000-08:00

Wow, it has really been a long time since I wrote. But I'll make it up to you.

Tonight after I was sitting in one of the women's rooms in my house and talking with a group of them. Three were married, two were not, but certainly of the age to be married. Soon the discussions got pretty racy. For everyone's best interested I prefer to leave out the details (and you can imagine how much of the conversation I got, with my extensive Wolof vocabulary) but the part that was really funny is only PG-13. It went something like this:

Woman 1: Why don't you bring FD (names have been changed) back to the US? She could braid hair, clean, everything
Woman 2: Yeah, she'll even give sponge baths to the toubabs and wipe them after they go to the bathroom
(raucous laughter from all around)
Woman 2: I saw that, I swear, the toubabs take paper and wipe when they go to the bathroom

(at this point I am still not getting the Wolof phrases and I am thinking, what are they talking about.... shaking my head no...)

Woman 3: That doesn't make any sense, it would get all wet

Woman 1: no, they hang it on a little stick and tear off a little piece, wipe and then they throw it out. If you want you can even clean your hands with the paper when you are done ...author's note...*okay, maybe a little off on that part, but close enough*

Woman 2: see I told you!

At this point I intervened and had to admit that yes, the toubabs like to use little bits of paper in the bathroom. I talked a little bit about germs and why most americans are terrified by the idea of a turkish toilet and a lack of toilet paper. The women understood the germ thing very well, but they still think that users of toilet paper are completely alien. Ahh, another Peace Corps goal satisfied, sharing American culture the world over....

It's hot

2006-11-08T11:18:00.000-08:00

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!

I think there are fire ants in my mattress

2006-11-06T13:01:00.000-08:00

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...

Who wins the prize?

2006-10-31T12:13:00.000-08:00

This is certainly a twist on the development model...

Africa leaders offered prize for ruling well
By Alan Cowell The New York Times

Mo Ibrahim, a Sudanese-born billionaire, announced the creation of a $5 million prize for the sub-Saharan African president who demonstrates the greatest commitment to democracy and good governance during their time in office.

http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/10/26/news/prize.php

Must see/read news

2006-10-26T04:31:00.000-07:00

Very exciting stuff from the world of microfinance. At least for me, I was giggling like a little girl...

Microlean Pioneer and His Bank Win Nobel Peace Prize

(this was a major inspiration to go into Peace Corps and Business Development)

and also

it's a must-see, great way to participate in one of the best grassroots development practices around.

Another great site for third-world development through entrepreneurship

All my best!

Meryl

laugh already!

2006-10-25T13:21:00.001-07:00

Just to alternate from the bad news earlier in the week I have a couple funny stories to share…

First, I threw myself to the wolves today. There is always a kind of a power struggle here and age wins out, no matter what. In fact, the whole society is ordered this way. Good behavior is determined by the elders, people are accepted or rejected based on what the elder members of the community say, and it goes on and on. Every task is determined the same way, as a young person, you will be told how everything should be done—the laundry, the mopping, even how to cut an onion. This can be pretty annoying if you are university-educated foreigner who thinks she has a pretty good idea of how to cut an onion and doesn’t want to be pushed around. Worse yet is when the Wolofs around you decide after 30 seconds that you are physically incapable of cutting onions and refuse to let you try any more. But in the end, I decided to put myself to this test, knowing that if the gamble worked, the payoff would be enormous.

The test was “moyne” the act of mixing millet flour and water in a big calabash bowl to make tiny grains that will be made into couscous. Believe it or not, the process is pretty tricky and there is (of course) a specific technique to get the most perfect grains, not too dry, not too big, not too clumpy. It was awfully scary sitting in the middle of all the big-shot Wolof grandmothers and trying it, but I actually succeeded and the chorus of praise (WAAW Koumba! Waaw kaaye!) was definitely worth it. I knew that my acceptance was confirmed when I kept getting meat thrown in front of me at the bowl at lunch by an imposing grandmother with a very toothy smile.

The second story is courtesy of my neighbor Neil. The post here in Senegal is extremely expensive, but every once in a while we just have to mail something out. Neil wanted to mail a little music and a couple other things to a friend, but his package was going to cost him 8.000 cfa, which is just too much (about $16). The postman told him that if he could reduce the weight by 4 grams, the price would be cut in half. The two of them dissected the package, looking for something to throw out. Turning up nothing, the postman simply took the cd case, held the cover firmly, cracked it in half and threw out the piece not attached to the hinge. Problem solved.

siigil ndigale

2006-10-24T14:56:00.000-07:00

The tragic news is that my host dad, Massar Sarr, passed away two days ago. I was just getting into a car to return to Louga from Dakar when I got the news on my cell phone. Baay Massar was in his 60s and has been ill and bed-ridden for several years, but the news was nevertheless a shock. There is a definite sadness that hangs over the house in recent days, but it is encouraging to see everyone regroup in the family and gather with the community. I have been able to spend more time with my family members than usual during this time, as well as learn much more about how they deal with the death of a family member. You can see a photo of the late Massar Sarr with his first wife and several of his grandkids or grand-nieces and nephews. The other photo is Massar's brother with two visitors.

I learned a Wolof proverb today: Boo xeye gis say mbokki yepp, amulo lii la geunal. A rough translation is : He who awakens in the morning and sees all of his relatives knows that bad news awaits. the significance is that in Senegal a family member might miss a big holiday or occasionally a baptism but no one would miss a funeral. And it seems to be true. The house has been full of people over the past few days and I have met so many relatives that I never have seen before.

The funeral ceremony is planned for Sunday. From what I can gather, there will be a part where men sing verses of the Koran for several hours in front of the house, and the local marabout will spend the day along with all the relatives and neighbors at the house. Up until then, the three remaining wives of my host dad lay in a room wearing white head scarves and surrounded by blankets made in the traditional weaving style of Senegal. Community members and friends come to the doorway of the room and kneel, offer their condolences and then drop coins or small bills into a basket in front of the women.

Even though each person only spends a few moments with the women, they stay outside and spend the day sitting and talking. I had an interesting conversation with a couple of the neighborhood men. One of them posed the question, “if you had lots and lots of money, what would you do?”

I spit out my very predictable answer “travel”
The other two men responded “build a mosque” and then “build a house for my family, build a franco-arab school and then build a mosque”

Chew on that one for a little while.

Ode to Underwear

2006-10-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

We are roughly 20 days into Ramadan right now which means its pretty slow around here. You've probably noticed that I haven't written since then. I've actually been more busy with work recently since everything comes down during Ramadan and we can get more real work done.

I just got out of the shower and consequently, done washing my underwear by hand. I have to comment on the monotony and ridiculousness of this task. I can't set out underwear with the rest of my clothes to be washed-- we were told it was culturally insensitive. I never got the whole gist of it, but I'd hate to be stepping on toes. So every day I wash my underwear. I don't think I would want to set it out anyway seeing as how my clothes always come back as though they've seen the third world war. Bleach and mysterious hole-creating forces permeate my clothes, despite the hardest work of the girl who regularly does my laundry. So everything is literallly torn apart and even though I wash my own underwear I am starting to see holes take over. The laundry soap here I am convinced smells worse that actual dirty clothes smell and doesn't succeed in actually removing much dirt. Maybe it is my half-hearted sloshing around of soap and underwear in the water bucket, but every time I take my sun-stiffened underwear off the line I find myself cringing at the thought of having to put these on again in a few days. The real test comes when you have been a volunteer long enough to be willing to buy your underwear from the local goodwill-style clothes seller. I've wandered into that part of the market, been drawn to it (such is the allure of non-sun-stiffened undergarments) but I still haven't made the jump. This is perhaps my ultimate weakness as a volunteer. Bring on the plague of crickets (I count 6 on my computer screen right now). Bring on dysentery and giardia. bring on sheep intestines and fish heads. But something restrains me from making that last break from Toubab-ness, buying underwear of unknown origins. So this leads me now to the Ode to Mom, who has agreed to mail me new, never before hand-washed underwear.

In other news, our bull broke out of his pen today and wreaked havoc in the house. ever heard of the bull in the China shop? This is what happens when you keep the cows in the house.

And, tomorrow I will attempt to fast with the Senegalese. Wish me luck!

Miss you all!

Development in Gardening

2006-10-08T11:52:00.000-07:00

Check out a fantastic initiative started by some of our very own Senegal volunteers. A n NGO dedicated to caring for AIDS patients with self-sustaining gardening projects.

http://www.developmentingardening.org/DIG/HOME.html

School (again) and wildlife stories

2006-09-18T04:03:00.000-07:00

Absolutely crazy morning. I guess I was feeling sleepy anyway and should be happy for this turn of events, but still it is disappointing. I showed up to my computer class with the people from my house this morning at 10 only to find that the government did not pay the electricity, phone or water bills for any school in the country. So all the services have been cut off. Thank goodness regular classes have not yet begun, but for any extra things like summer study sessions, watering the plants and trees as well as computer classes like mine, things are difficult.

Just makes you appreciate a public school system that functions.

In other news, I should talk about my recent craziness. Normally I would hide this from the blog and pretend that I am only a stellar volunteer, but the truth is I’ve gone a bit crazy, and certain associates have encouraged me to share it with you as evidence of what service in the third world can do to a person.

I’ve had some recent brushes with the wilderness that remind me just how far I am from being comfortable on a couch in suburban Indiana.

I went running with my neighbor Neil the other day where we normally run, way out in the bush where there are fewer people and cars and the air is (usually) fresher. Only about 400 meters into the run, right in the middle of farmer’s fields which are almost ready for harvest, we see an enormous truck emptying none other than tanks full of sewage and human waste onto the ground. Needless to say, the smell was terrible and neil and I kind of freaked out about the health implications—just the other day I sat around with my whole family eating beans practically fresh off the vine. Really scary thoughts.

It gets better (or worse). The rains have really dredged up a lot of insects, meaning that I chase roaches and geckos and crickets out of my room nightly. I guess I didn’t do so well a few nights ago because I woke up feeling really congested—I thought I might be getting sick until I blew my nose and found, guess what, a spider. Miracles of the human body—at least this means that I didn’t ingest it.

Which is better than I can say for the fish eyes the following evening for dinner. (and I forgot to tell you that my last meal before leaving for the states happened to be sheep’s head. Normally when we eat sheep’s head I don’t even know it because all the meat has been pulled off the bones ahead of time. But this time, for some reason, the cook left all the parts in, including jaw bones filled with teeth. My one mom even took the jaw, cracked it in half and pulled the tongue out from inside and tried to feed it to my cat. Scary when even the cat won’t look at it twice.)

One more wildlife story-- we have our cows tied up outside the house these days (there is one that just had a baby which is sooo cute!) While I was walking to the boutique on the corner my first mom started yelling at everyone to grab the baby cow. He was eating a big plastic bag—so we all kind of danced around trying to get the bag out of his mouth, but he took refuge under his mom and then the mom started charging at people. She was tied to a tree, so we all got out in the end, but it would have been terrible to be gored by a cow’s horn in front of my very own house. And the silly baby cow ate the whole plastic bag and choked and coughed for a while.

My computer class

2006-09-14T14:05:00.000-07:00

Here are some captions for the pictures in this post:
1)A mural on a school wall where I teach computers
2) The building on the left is the "computer room." The crazy guy on the steps is our guard (whose last name also happens to mean "urinate" in Wolof). The little white building is the director's office/teacher room and storage area-- it is the size of a closet.
3)The shack made out of pieces of metal is a makeshift classroom. The school (like all the other primary schools in Louga is severely overcrowded. Each elementary student has to do a competition (through standard testing) to try to get one of the limited spots in the middle school. If you don't pass, you can repeat the year, but most kids repeat once or twice and then give up.
4,5,6) Students working in the computer class. The women in #6 are part of my family-- my "sister-in-law" and my "sister"
7) The sanitary block at the school. On the right is the original. On the left is one built by an NGO a couple years ago.
8) One more student in the class

I've got a pretty solid computer class going on these days, with photos to boot so I thought I would tell you a bit about it

I teach every morning (it used to be two classes which each met twice a week) but now we put the two classes together and meet every day. We are trying to rush and finish everything before Ramadan starts next Saturday. During the period of Ramadan ( a full 30 days) most adults will fast from daybreak to sunset. They don't eat or drink anything for the entire day. THe period is one of the five pillars of Islam so the fasting is practiced by nearly everyone. It is extremely hard to work during this time too-- people are tired and grumpy and often get sick and to be honest it is just too hot to try to function without food or water. So there is the reason for hurrying things along.

The class started with about 15 people and although attendance isn't totally regular, most people are present on the days they can be there and they are starting to get some information out of it. We started on things that seem so simple-- what is a computer? what is memory? how do you use the keyboard? (the double-click was a major step) and now we are getting into email accounts and using an address book; using search engines and sending files. I was so happy when we first starting using email and the students were honestly giddy about being able to send each other little messages.

There are some problems-- as you can see in the pictures, the school that houses this computer room is very poor. The computers were a donation years ago and have fallen into disrepair and the school is very crowded. During the year they use a classroom for the computer room, but once classes start again they will have to close off the computers so the students will have space to work. There are also problems with the direction, which is not very proactive, and the guard, who is currently in charge of managing the computer room and doesn't now anything about computers (sometimes he rips the plugs out of the wall in frustration!) But in the end, I am encouraged by this class. The class is young people and old, men and women-- it truly is an atmosphere that one almost never sees in Senegal, and everyone seems to be equals (refreshing!)

Enjoy, more photos to come!

Senegalese Emigration in Pictures

2006-09-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

on BBC

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/5335062.stm

check it out

trapped!

2006-09-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

I wrote the other day about feeling trapped by poverty. I didn't think it would take effect so quickly but here I am. Trapped, in a different sort of way. It has rained for 8 straight hours. Not the messing around, play in the streets kind of rain, but the kind that rattles my tin roof until I think it will fly off (although it still doesn't manage to cool the interior... )

so jet lag + rain means that I haven't left my room in 36 hours... Cabin Fever! this is another thank you to care packages... what would I do without Sudoku puzzles and beef jerky? I have nearly finished an entire tome by Salman Rushdie and still going strong.

On a side note, I was so worried about needing to carry little silly gifts for family, friends and work partners here (the gift from your trip thing is taken pretty seriously) that I never bought myself any wonderful american treats to bring back with me... so mom, my apologies in advance for repeated phone calls asking for granola bars and wheat thins...

here are some more photos of the "ocean" in front of my house

and on a lighter note

2006-09-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

I was welcomed home so warmly by my family that I had to remember why I came here. They truly are so wonderful, I couldn't leave them. And I have to thank my volunteer friends and my local other Toubabs for remembering me too! They all were in touch in my first few days home and I feel so lucky to have a great community here.

This doesn't negate the fact that I couldn't bring myself to eat rice today and ended up sitting on my floor and boiling packaged mac and cheese (thank you care packages!)

and several of my work partners have been in touch as well, which is encouraging!

thanks so much to everyone at home-- friends, family, friends of friends (maybe even the ND Football team?) for making my visit home spectacular. I can't wait to be back with all of you!

Cold Turkey

2006-09-06T15:15:00.000-07:00

I haven't been very good at posting in the last few weeks-- but it's for a very good reason. I just returned from a visit to the states, where I met with friends and family and enjoyed all the pleasures of home for a solid 2+ weeks.

It was really a fantastic trip home (there were golf and cigars involved, a plastic tub of mango margaritas, a Tigers game of stickball, strobe lights and even french fries) so I thought I got a good dose of the US to last me for a while. and then it was time to go back to senegal and I started to change my mind.

I won't go into the details, but on my first day back in senegal I missed home more than I expected-- I missed not having to argue with the cab driver about the price before I got in the car. I missed clean streets and pretty buildings and happy smiling faces of people I might actually know. The list really could go on and on. what I really found myself wondering is-- am I completely ready to do another 15 months of this? Was I just joking when I did the first year?

So I propose a new re-insertion method for volunteers. No more cold turkey (it doesn't work and it is just plain painful). Instead, I suggest a slow-drip IV. Somehting that is portable, easy to use and not too disturbing to passersby. A little Wolof thown in here, a little rice and fish here, a casual string of shouted greetings, a chorus of sheep and even the sand from the streets. The most important is that it be entirely constant, so that instead of forgetting we have a nice and easy re-entry...

What this all really comes down to is that I had forgotten for a moment what it is like to live in this kind of poverty. I can only begin to imagine what it must really mean-- but seeing it again here was like seeing it for the first time. I think it is so easy to forget, especially after being here for a while, because people truly do show a resiliency and resourcefulness in their lives. But the reality of it is that poverty is a crushing factor here in senegal. there is no way to measure it based on what food people eat or what people buy for clothing, etc. I mean that it can be crushing to the spirit, creativity and optimism in people. We just had the period of exams for students here in Senegal and I was disappointed and discouraged by what I learned. Widespread strikes in the school systems prevented students from preparing well for their exams and in some cases even meant that the exams were never graded. For many students this means definite failure. The chances of passing are actually so narrow that many never leave elementary school. There are two universities in Senegal. One is highly competitive, with limited space. The other is public and open to all who pass their exams, meaning that classes can exceed 500 students and more. For many the only hope to really get ahead is to win a scholarship to study in Europe or America. Paying their way alone would be literally impossible. Scholarships from the government are so few that only a handful of students can benefit and private sector scholarships are non-existent.

Maybe I am just venting some frustration, but it seems like a one-way street for most people. The obstacles are so huge even to getting an education, that everything else-- job, well-being are like dreams.

I guess it is time

2006-08-10T07:37:00.000-07:00

...to tell you all what I actually do here.

I know that probably everyone reading this blog has been asking the question since I left the states (including "why on earth is she joining the Peace Corps") but lets take this one stepa t a time.

SO I am a Small Business Development Volunteer in Louga Senegal. This means that I am assigned to work in the city of Louga, a place with about 200,000 people. And that's pretty much where the rules end. I can teach classes for groups of people or I can work individually with an entrepreneur to get a business going or improve on something that he already does. The beauty of it is that I can work with government officials or I can work with youth ; womens groups or individual entrepreneurs. I have a couple members of the community who are my advisors but beyond that I am not confined by any institution or target community. This is essential for our work for a number of reasons-- I might really struggle trying to define my role at times, but in the end I wouldn't want it any other way.

So it works like this. I spent three months getting to know the community. I introduce myself and my work and then I wait for them to take the lead. The people who follow up and call me are most motivated and the most promising work partners, but sometimes I have to push a little too, since people are shy and a little suspicious of the random toubab offering free business advice.

Now that I have been here in Louga for about 8 months, the work is really starting to pile up. It is an extremely active town that is growing fast. We have hundreds of associations that have different activities, many major goverment offices and of course innumerable individual business owners. At the same time, it seems that everyone who isn't already in a business has a "project" that they want to develop or they want to run a business but don't know what. The fact that almost all educated jobs are as goverment employees and the overall unemployment rate is more than 50% drives many people to search other ways to support themselves, primarily through commerce.

Once a person has an idea we start planning. We talk about business plans and marketing and accounting. Then we talk about how he or she can approach a credit and loan institution. Louga is huge for microfinance and opportunities abound for people with well-developed business plans.

Of course, this is the ideal. It definitely isn't easy, and when it works it is bound to be a long slow process. many of my "clients" : the people I meet with on a regular basis to do business planning, are semi-literate, or most difficult of all, have never been to school. Which makes things like accounting, marketing and even the most basic planning a little out of reach.

even still we can usually come to an understanding. We try to simplify the concepts as much as possible and talk about what the entrepreneur hopes to gain in the future. This leads to a discussion of goals and then about what is feasible with the resources available. There are many things we would love to be more precise with (it is so hard to run a business with no accounting!) but for the moment we are satisfied with just more critical thinking.

Here is a little idea of some of the projects going on right now:
Business Planning-- local entrepreneur hopes to introduce rechargeable Batteries in local markets
Business Planning-- local entrepreneur hopes to expand refrigerator parts and repair store
Business Planning-- Aluminum worker wishes to expand his shop and add new tools
Business Planning-- Metal Apprentice wishes to open own shop
Business Planning-- English teacher wishes to open Language Institute
Business Planning-- Youth group looks for ways to make fields more profitable
Marketing-- Artisanal soap maker looks for better production and packaging methods
Teaching-- Local adults learn to use computers
Teaching-- Louga citizens take English Classes with local teachers

Does that make sense?

a medical question

2006-08-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

Kari and Ted (volunteers from Linguere area, about 2.5 hours away) came through the other day and I thought I should share with you some of our musings

Kari: I wonder how much permament damage is being done to my gastro-intestinal tract while serving as a PC volunteer? Constant exposure to amoebas, cysts, giardia, and a daily medication regimen that would rival the average hospitalization.

Ted: I once sent a letter to a high school PE teacher telling him that his students should do a class project on my health. Exercise, diet, heat exposure, medications, etc.

Kari: Do twelve servings of white rice and six of cooking oil increase or decrease your chances of a long and healthy life?

So here is the question-- what will we be like 10, 20, 50 years from now? Do simple carbohydrates, a contaminated water supply and long hours of heat exposure and physical labor strengthen or weaken the human condition? Will we leave here looking (and feeling) like the shriveled lung you looked at in the smoking section of the health book?

I'm hoping that the lifestyle is coupled with an unstoppable ability to shake one's butt and shout louder than anyone in a tri-state area.

It can't be any less healthy than how I lived in college right? Only now beer is replaced with rice

Best day ever

2006-07-24T03:07:00.000-07:00

First it rained, really really hard. It rained for what seemed like hours and with an intensity that made it sound like a marching band was playing on my roof. I hardly slept all night and when I finally dragged myself out into the courtyard I saw that the entire street in front of my house was turned into a pond. I spent all day calling it the ocean, telling the kids to try to catch fish and jumping from rock to rock to get out and do some work.

The rain is good news. I was starting to believe that “rainy season” was a misnomer, and my little corner of the Sahel was just an interpretation of “Sahara”. And the farmers. Nine months without rain don’t prepare the fields. But now it came and everyone just chilled out. The weather is cooler, but sticky and it heats up so fast in the afternoon that you could almost see steam rising off the street (or at least off my shoulders).

I had another episode in the night a few days later-- I couldn’t sleep again (I think that insomnia hits a lot of volunteers at different periods) and even though I was just minding my own business reading in bed a big fat cockroach skittered right into my bed, slinking through the gap in my mosquito net (I am lazy about closing it properly because I sleep on the floor and my windows have netting on them). Of course I screamed and jumped up, getting tangled in the net. I have never been so scared in my life. But I was standing there, searching my bed for the bug until I felt it move, on my back. I think I woke up the neighborhood, and then stripped down so fast that my clothes ended up in different corners of the room. This is war. I was excited about the rain until critters started taking refuge in my room.

So it is vacation too, for the kids in school. I am usually not at home during the day, since I go into town to work, but today, Sunday, I realized how exhausted everyone is with the kids. I decided to take a big risk and get out construction paper and crayons. I was terrified-- usually anything for the kids becomes a huge ordeal where things get destroyed, etc. But we had the best morning. Each of the kids drew something for my mom and dad-- I told them I would be going home soon to visit and that my parents wanted to know the kids. So it was a cheap ploy to get to decorate my room with their drawings for a few weeks, but it worked and I’ll try to post a photo-- it certainly brings some happiness to the room!

The Money Story

2006-07-15T05:35:00.000-07:00

It is sometimes very scary to think about the real situation here in Senegal. I have been here long enough to kind of get used to life and the environment and sometimes I forget just how hard and unfair it is. I lose perspective. I guess in a good way, since I stop looking at people here and thinking only about the dirt that they live in, the poor conditions of education, inadequate health care and job opportunities. Instead I see just my neighbors, my family, or the guy whose sense of humor I really enjoy, or the nice old lady on the corner that struggles to show me the teeth she has left in a big smile whenever I see her.

But today was one of those days when I sort of got my perspective back. It tends to happen when I sit down with someone and really get into the grit of my work. I spoke at length with my host mother about the problems the family currently faces. Being the first wife, she is in charge of the finances for the entire family. Her husband, an older man, has been extremely sick for years. He cannot work and requires constant care and attention as well as medicines and an occasional visit from a nurse. The other adults in the house, for the most part, do not work. They try, selling items that they make in the market or raising chickens to sell for food, but for the most part the opportunity in the market is very small and family members lack technical skills and education to attempt many other businesses. In addition, due to cultural norms and certain parts of Islam, my host mother has taken care of a good number of grandchildren, second cousins, or simply other community members. It is the true African family and after living here for more than 6 months I still don’t know where everyone comes from.

So what it comes down to is that the whole family (35 people or so) is supported by 1 son who lives in New York and sells sheets (let this open an immigration debate please), another son who lives in Dakar and sells car parts, and me, from the rent and food that I pay for from Peace Corps. Already I think we can all see where the problem lies. Food is not all that expensive here, but having electricity and running water is. And the bills are serious. (The cost of electricity here is twice what it is in the states-- try that against a struggling currency and a weak economy)

But it gets worse. My family is in trouble with the Mayor’s office. They own three little stalls in a market near our house. After selling there for a while they saw that the market does not draw any clients, it is in a very poor neighborhood and people prefer to go to the big market. So the stores were losing money and they closed them. There are no buyers for the stores. But now the mayor’s office wants its tax money on these boutiques-- for the past two years. It only amounts to about $300 overall, but in Senegal that is a hell of a lot of money.

So now it is my job to work with my family to start a business that they can do with the skills that they have, that they can make money with, and that is sustainable. And how do you do that when you have 35 mouths to feed and are already in a hell of a lot of debt?

Yes, I came here for development. Yes, I came here to get to know the real issues. Yes, I came here to make an impact. But sometimes the problem seems bigger than all of us and our good intentions combined.

my black cat

2006-07-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

I have to make some comments on my recent return to Louga after a two-week vacation with my wonderful friends, Bridget and Leah.

Coming home is almost a game now, where I get to guess what kind of a state my room, my fridge and now even my cat might be in, This one was particularly entertaining. The room was great, no problems there… the fridge… well minus the infant suppositories and a freezer packed full of candy my family hopes to sell we are still doing great. Now my cat. The Senegalese really don’t like cats, and for good reason. Cats here are outdoor animals, scavengers and mongrels—interestingly enough this is how I saw cats in America (no offense to cat owners, I just never thought I would be in the position to have one of my very own). But my family here in Louga has slowly warmed to my cat. The girls still scream and jump and run away when he gets out, but they also regularly feed him and shoo him lovingly from their bedrooms when he surprises them.

That being said I was surprised when I came home and heard that my family was trying to wash my cat-- this seemed to me to be a complete oxymoronic Amelia Badelia kind of thing to do, like ironing a bathing suit (which believe me has happened here), especially strange because to this day no one likes to actually touch the cat, they can only observe him. But then I saw him I understood; my once white cat had turned a stingy gray. I examined his fur and decided, no he isn’t dirty, he’s just getting older and at a small seven months the gray hair is finally starting to come out. So I assured my family in broken Wolof that nothing was wrong. How silly for them to think that his fur was dirty and not just changing color!

Then I started to pet him and slowly my hand started turning gray, and then black. Here I am again, the crazy tubab who doesn’t even know how to take care of her own tubab cat and not even another tubab in town to call and ask (everyone seems to be on vacation these days). So I finally decided I would just have to dunk my cat and get this stuff off of it. He really started getting feisty after I dipped him by the tail a few times but finally got most of the dirt off of him. I later sheepishly admitted to my family that they were right—then I got the real story. Apparently he got out of my room a few days ago when they went to feed him and decided to go rolling in the charcoal. Ha!

The other funny part of this is the “seriche.” It is a Senegalese custom to bring a gift when you come home after a trip or some time away from your family. I stopped doing it for a while for myriad reasons, first and foremost that a gift from a tubab carries too much tension with it. But this time I really was gone for a long time and I had some bubble gun I had been meaning to give them. So I gave my host mom a pack of 8 smaller packs of gum, each containing 5 pieces. I promptly disappeared in order to avoid the chaos that would ensue. Thirty minutes later I had ten kids tapping at my door saying they didn’t get any seriche. How is this possible? My mom didn’t realize she needed to open each pack to get at the actual gum and instead 8 kids were wandering around with a whole pack of gum in their mouths rather than each person getting one piece. Perfect. Those 8 kids were damn proud though, which I guess brings a smile to my face.

So in other news the girls visited, yay! And made it safely home without a hitch. I really want to start by thanking them. As soon as I got back to louga I realized how impressed everyone was with them here. And of course here is where it matters most to me. It isn’t easy for a visitor to come and spend time sitting and talking with people-- dealing with all the specificities of a culture that they don’t know. I am also appreciative of the fact that they really shared in the way I live here with my family and my friends. They even shared in some of the stresses that I deal with, and I again, grateful. Here is how some of these encounters went.

Random Senegalese dude: hello, are you fine?
Leah: yes I am fine
(intermittent awkwardness, language issues, leah clearly wanting to read her book on the beach, RSD clearly wanting a tubab girlfriend and thinking Leah is a good candidate, RSD striking a magazine centerfold pose on the beach)
RSD: will you teach me to swim?
Leah: My friends speak French, they are in the water, go ask them.
Me and Bridge in the water: Looks like you’re doing just fine Leah!
RSD: Okay, I go.
(Bridget and I promptly start swimming to shore as he starts swimming out toward us)
On arrival to shore we strategize about how best to be left in peace while I listen to RSD’s friend calls out to him in Wolof “hey, where did you get that tubab?”
Not more than 5 minutes pass before RSD and his buddy decide again to grace us with their presence.

RSD: why do you not teach me to swim?
Meryl: Oh, you wanted us to teach you to swim? We didn’t know.
(all three of us are buried in our books, dying to be left alone, but this guy lounging and flexing his muscles at us just does not get body language)
RSD: (still talking at us, I tuned him out long ago)
Meryl: I’m sorry but we really just want to relax right now
RSD: Oh am I bothering you?
Meryl: No comment
RSD: Okay then (to Leah) I will leave you my address
Leah; No thanks, that’s okay
RSD: (still kneeling to give leah his address) what is that?
Leah: Meryl, tell him
Meryl: (cracking up) (in Wolof) she said, no thanks
RSD: she no want it?
Leah: no

It was a beautiful thing, and after only one hour we had peace again.

check out this article

2006-06-23T06:35:00.000-07:00

Spriritual Work Bears Fruit in Senegal

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/5075534.stm

a visit back to thies

2006-06-14T10:04:00.000-07:00

I have to take a moment to talk about how impressed I am with my first host family here in senegal. Last night i visited them in their home in Thies and I was so happy and comfortable with the visit. It is hard to express why things went so well, but there was not a single problem-- they didn't treat me like some strange ghost coming to visit. We immediately settled in and started talking. They honestly care about me, my adjustment to Louga, my family at home, and likewise I really care about them. Little Fallou is in a session of serious exams so that he can continue school, Dior my sister just started a new job, Seynabou is finishing her first year of teaching in a school-- I am just so impressed with all of them. They are really model people as well, the mother divorced several years ago and now supports their entire family which is actually more than 8 people. SHe has instilled in all of the kids the importance of studying, of marrying the person of your choice, to keep in mind your financial status when planning a family, and most importantly to work hard. Being with them was so refreshing and inspiring, I can only hope that someday my family in Louga will all have such lofty goals and accomplished students.

So then I learned that Dior is about to get married! This is going to be a big day. I wish I could tell the whole story here but it just won't fit-- the basics are that I got introduced to the fiance before I knew what was going on. Then my mom, Nogaye, started to tease mesaying he's ugly, Dior made a bad choice, she couldn't get anyone better-- this naturally made me so uncomfortable, I didn't know what to say, but it is a typical Wolof joke-- Seynabou finally saved me saying a Wolof proverb "a man cannot be ugly if his pockets are deep" Perfect.

The story ends that the girls asked me to be in the ceremony as a "bridesmaid" an honor reserved for sisters and close friends. This will be quite an experience-- Wolof parties are crazy enough without a random toubab crashing it. and it means that I get a new dress to match all the other girls and we'll have to dance in front of everyone to really loud music. kind of like in the states but much more embarrassing when you are all white and awkward. There is something about Wolofs that makes them naturally very cool and sexy that just leaves us tubabs looking weird.

probably good to end with that philosophical statement :)

photos are up!

2006-05-20T12:42:00.000-07:00

okay; the good news is that I think enough photos are up that I'm willing to unveil them,

please take a look

www.snapfish.com
go to login in the upper right corner
email is meryl.guyer@gmail.com
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10 reasons why my grandma would have loved senegal

2006-05-20T12:30:00.000-07:00

As much as my relationship with senegal has its ups and downs I really have to acknowledge that it is a great country with a lot of true paradise within its borders and also some truly incredible people. I found myself walking through town the other day thinking how much my grandmother might have appreciated its sandy beaches and warm afternoons, which led to a much funnier moment imagining my grandmother actually arriving in Senegal... thus this week's theme.

10 There is no arguing with the thermostat, it is the perfect temperature, 110 degrees at any moment of the day.

9 There are so many helpful people around! Even just now a nice young gentleman helped me into my taxi, too bad I seem to have misplaced my wallet and that gold necklace I was wearing...

8 Whether it is fish and rice or meat and rice, all the food seems to take on an even oatmeal consistency

7 There is always a team of young girls around to manage the housework.

6 There is not a single Detroit Lion's football game to be found on any station. Only the Senegal Lions soccer games

5 In fact there is only 1 station, and more often than not it is dominated by religious programming

4 Lettuce in the market it always on sale, only 20 cents. Beats the pants off the price at the base.

3 Plastic shopping bags and baskets and even wearing hair nets is really in style

2 They even have a golf course! and it's the perfect size, just 12 holes...

1 All the music is played loud enough that it doesn't matter how good your hearing is; it will come in loud and clear.

what is weird about this?

2006-04-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

Lots of big news recently and still I can think to write about is work stuff-- maybe the biggest rollercoaster I've been on in my life. First things first. Jonathan arrives in less than one week, and I think pretty much everyone within 11 miles of me has been alerted. The women are all trying to get me ready for this mysterious male guest, telling me what kind of incense to burn in my room, the best kind of plastic beads to wear around my waist (the bine-bine is a classic Wolof trick-- every girl from 2 days to 52 years is wearing them), how I should do my makeup, my hair, etc. Anyway, the excitement when (and if) jonathan actually makes it to Louga should be worth the wait. My Louga host family has been debating for months whether they should kill a lamb, a camel or a goat for the occasion. can't wait

In other news I got a cat. a little kitten, a boy. and I named him Scout, pronounced "Scoot" in Senegalese fashion. At first he was great... we played, we cuddled, he scratched the hell out of my hands in a sweet loving way... but then i started to realize, scoot has a real mean streak which is primarily played out in his peeing on my bed several times a day and throughout the night. even when I finally get peace (although sleeping in a bed that stinks of kitten urine) I am awoken at 5:30 am. why? while I have learned to sleep through the call to prayer, Scoot has not, and Scoot is a morning cat, who likes to play, leap and pounce as soon as he wakes up, a pattern which often brings his path right across my face.

Work stuff too is amusing. I had a meeting the other day with a representative of the mayor of Louga, who also happens to somehow work with a branch of an NGO out of Dakar. he came to my office and we discussed his plan, which while constructive and ambitious, is also nebulous, undefined and unrealistic. When I began to inquire as to the detailed functioning of the project, or even of his knowledge of the different themes he was quite taken aback. Keep in mind that this is our third meeting... It was now that he chose to ask me who I was, where I was from, what kind of education I had, etc. Already he is seriously doubting my ability to assess his project validilty... but here is the real kicker,... his questions had been going on for a while and I knew something was weird and then there it was "when you were in the united states did you know anyone with black skin? did you ever work with anyone with black skin?" wow. the part that is even scarier.... is that he was not talking about racism-- that whole concept wasn't even part of his thinking. Instead, the point he was trying to get at was that in his opinion no person with black skin would worry about financial details or business plans. It was not the culture of planning that separated us, but just simply the color of our skin. Blown away, I didn't even know how to respond. Anyway, he was soon out of my office, blank business plan guide forms tucked under his arm, probably never to be seen again.

Bifall Gamou April 16

2006-04-27T11:24:00.000-07:00

so we killed a cow two nights ago. It was pretty gory and also kind of cool since when it was done there was an enormous dismembered bull head and horns sitting in our courtyard area for hours. They started late at night so that by the end the old man charged with directing the operation was crouched under a flickering spotlight using his machete to chop the last parts into manageable pieces. It is a distinct image in my mind still and its too bad that I couldn't photo it to share with you-- or maybe that would be worse, since then the image in my mind would clash with the reality. Anyway-- the gentleman, Aliou Gueye is a wiry, thin man with bits of white in a scraggly beard and even at night under the spotlight he wore his sunglasses, a second-hand pair of gold-rimmed aviators. the sheath for his machete pushed aside and the dulled blade covered in blood, his crouch brought him close to the middle of the animal skin spread in the packed sand of our kitchen courtyard. Each leg of the animal retained its distinct shape, even skinned down to the bone, they stacked one on another behind Gueye while he worked down to the end, finally hacking the hooves and tail loose from the skin and dropping them into the pit of water and refuse my brothers had dug into the ground before the slaughter.

anyone who is as familiar with large mammal anatomy as I now am knows a cow is a hell of a lot of meat. and considering the practice here of eating everything that is edible, I was sure we'd have a lot of food ahead of us. And we ate the whole thing (I think) yesterday. It was the Bifall Gamou in Tivaouane. Which I know doesn't mean anything-- but what is important is that it is a religious pilgrimage to a town called tivaouane, made by members of the Bifall sect (a sub-sect of a Senegalese Muslim brotherhood called Mouride). I think that most people would agree that Bifalls tend to be somewhat more radical (in a religious sense, not a crazy militant sense) of the senegalese sects. they have their own marabouts (or religious leaders) just like the rest of the sects, but they worship them with a fanaticism that is not as fanatic in some of the other groups. In any case, I certainly felt that when I was in Tivaouane.

Which brings me to broach a topic that I would rather just avoid, but I think it is kind of necessary-- and that is racism and intolerance. I can't even pretend to know what it feels like to experience it every day for one's entire life, but I also never thought I would experience it to the extent that I have here. even at this religious event, for Islam, which invokes peace and tolerance in every aspect, I experienced it even more deeply than I do on a normal day in my life in Louga. Of course, it isn't everyone, it is not even a majority, but there is no denying that it exists here and that it is a very strong sentiment. it would seem unthinkable, unimaginable that racism like this still exists, particularly considering the fact that I live with Wolofs, speak their language, and have come here to help-- but to be honest, i can hardly blame them. For many reasons, the first being that many have never met a white person who doesn't treat them with disrespect and anger, or one that bothered to learn their language. Second is the harboring of this jealousy of the wealth that white people have and does not reach this country or its people. Third is the fact that popular belief leads many to blame the west for the "continuing evils" of slavery. No matter what the real story is, the over-arching image of slavery has endured and doesn't leave a pleasant trail behind. Fourth is that the white person embodies a western culture that many do not want to see pollute their traditions-- and sometimes tradition is everything. I was recently speaking with an American family living nearby, and as reluctant as we were to acknowledge it, we were all feeling frustrated with the same trend-- most things that are different here are immediately seen as "bad" okay, we all know this old paradigm, but imagine how this affects a culture when it isn't just people being afraid of change, but it is in ev-ery-thing... there is no innovation, no individualism, excrutiatingly slow social change, virtually no leadership and certainly no one who is willing to stand up and disagree--- such disaccord simply does not exist. When people want to say no, they won't even say that-- it is too harsh. Instead they will find a roundabout way of averting your eyes or changing the subject so that you might get the message without having to hazard a confrontation. I better stop myself there, but you get the idea?

The Routine

2006-03-07T11:19:00.000-08:00

Yay! Laura, I can't believe you saw an exhibit on Tabaski at the Snite! How exciting! What you described sounds really accurate-- I just participated in our Tabaski celebration in January and as soon as I get my computer back I will post photos with more detail for you-- but you are completely right-- Tabaski is the major holiday in the Muslim calendar here in Senegal and it celebrates the story (very similar to the Bible story) of Ibrahima and Ismaillah. I am not terribly good with the story (all that I understood in the Wolof communication was spotty) but Ismaillah was supposed to sacrifice his son, Ibrahima and just as he was about to bring the knife to his throat Allah replaced him with a sheep so that a sheep was sacrificed instead. Again, I am foggy on all this but you get the idea. So now, every single family kills a sheep on Tabaski and then visits family and friends asking their forgiveness and friendship for the year to come. My experience with this was interesting--- my Wolof still had a long way to go and I ended up just standing in awe as my family slaughtered 5 sheep; drained their blood into a pit next to my room and promptly cooked up the liver to serve to me. Then I put on my fancy Wolof traditional outfit and paraded around the neighborhood -- clearly I felt a little silly, but being their most important holiday I was happy to do it-- and more than that, I was honored to take such a special part in their celebration. Here in my town you can really see how important it is-- family members from all over the country and even abroad come home just for this holiday.

SO, hopefully I will get those sweet photos up for you soon.

The routine I want to talk about today is the questioning... normally this routine ensues every time I enter a boutique or a business or a vehicle. I greet in Wolof, everyone responds. An older man says "oh, the tubab speaks Wolof!" I say yes. Everyone laughs. The man begins the onslaught. DO you have a husband (known as the borom ker "house manager", which is culturally a lie, the women rule the house) Where is he? I don't believe you. Where do you live? How long have you been here? How did you get that name? Can you cook? Why not? How much water do you put in the rice to cook for your borom ker? Can you dance? Why not? Come over to my house and I will show you how to dance. You don't want a black boyfriend? Why not? You don't want him to bring you to paradise? What's better a black boyfriend or an American? ( people know that there are african americans, but don't really believe that they exist-- say that a black person could not live with snow). And thus the questioning continues. I've gotten so adept at responding-- telling people that I have 4 husbands so I can't have another or that I only want to be the 4th wife, so they should come find me again after they already have 3-- but until just a few days ago I had never seen it happen to anyone but me; the token tubab.

So there I was; in the car coming back from Thies with 7 other passengers, all male except for one 18 year old, air'headed girl. I couldnt believe it, she got all the questions (except for the ones about a black boyfriend of course) so that's when it really really clicked. The problem here is just a lack of creativity. every senegalese man has the same routine tucked away in his memory, to be showed off for everyone to see at the earliest opportunity.

A couple quick work stories now... For the most part work is actually going extremely well-- the Embassy has agreed to finance the work on and English corner here in Louga so they are coming through next week, and I am preparing a couple classes to start within the next couple weeks, as well as consulting individually for a few entrepreneurs and community organizations and schools. but still, there are some things that are just laughable.

First business plan I took home to review-- very well done, just needs to be updated, a few holes to fill in, then it is all ready to go. I met with the entrepreneur; we went over the sections to fix up, meeting was going great-- when we finished he handed it back to me and said, "so when you"re done with it we can take it to the bank?" wow, was the idea of "entrepreneurship" lost on him. It took me 40 minutes to convince him that I couldn't possibly know his business well enough to write his plan for him.

Then, in the neighborhood I met with some men who said they have a community organization that disbanded but now they are getting back together and they want to work with me. Great, so what's your project? Well, we need you to find an NGO with a project and money and then we will write the project and send it to them.

lordy lordy

thanks!

by the way

2006-03-04T09:05:00.000-08:00

one of my side work projects, the establishment of an English Library in Louga, with the support of the American Embassy in Dakar has gotten favorable reviews from the embassy and we will have an official visit next month :) Cheers for teaching English and the love of reading!

Senegal is all about sitting in plastic chairs feeling awkward

2006-03-04T08:45:00.000-08:00

I need to thank Maren Johnstone, a former PCV from Senegal for this skillfully crafted quip-- it really sums up a lot of things about living here and now as we are completing our 3-week training and preparing to head back to site I find myself thinking more and more about this.

We just completed the development of a 6-month work plan for our return to site and I realized that I am going to go back to where I am the only white person around (and even more alienated by the fact that I actually do understand the local language) and I will once again be the center of everyone's attention. I have enjoyed so much peaceful anonymity among other Americans that I think I need to start bracing myself for the worst. So this may include going to several baptisms, marriages, ceremonies for pilgrims retunring from Mecca, sitting in a plastic chair for hours on end while wearing a stiff damask curtain and a scarf shaped into a fruit bowl on my head.

The scary part is that I am not nearly as afraid of it all as I once was.

I've learned a lot at this training and I am anxious to get out and start working (which will hopefully help distract me from other, more negative sentiments like "Senegal Breaks Things!"--such as my ipod, my computer, my solar battery, my flashlight and all of my clothing) but first I just need to eat one more hamburger in civilization. And the real kicker is that I am about to experience real real civilization when I meet my family in Italy next week (I am such a lucky brat!) I have sent a list of "necessities" t be brought to me that is as long as your tax documents. not to mention the full wheel of parmesan I plan to buy upon arrival in Rome.

so this leads me to the next question-- what really qualifies as civilization? I'm so numb to everything here now that it doesn't at all seem strange that I eat with my hands, I share public transportation with livestock and occasionally see the driver take the key out of the ignition while still driving in order to clean his ears with it, that there is trash everywhere and little talibe begging on every corner. But here's the deal, people are not necessarily starving, there is a system of education (though it is far from acceptable) and every other basic need has at least some provision-- and to be honest, compared to a lot of African nations; you might think that Senegal is on the up andup; and then you have the discussion about female genital mutilation, or about the negotiation of dowries for marriages, or about the concours that elementary students must participate in just to have the chance to go on to middle school! there is a long long way to go. am I being clear on this? When we say "development" I think it has so little to do with what people have-- it relates more to the way people think--

One example; my closest female friends in this country are our language trainers. They are far from Louga and I see them rarely, but they are the first individuals with whom I can carry a conversation that does not include hair extensions or cooking ceeb u jen. on the other hand, these particular women are so educated (meaning university degrees) that they can rarely find a senegalese boyfriend who is not terrified/intimidated/who knows what by their intelligence. Until we can see educated people who can succeed, hold a job and still fit easily into the traditional family structure we are not seeing development.

this is a bad example but I am feeling scatterbrained and will have to come back to revise it later-- someone help me by asking some questions, then I will know what direction to go in next time. Thanks, miss you all , love you to pieces!

Meryl

WAIST

2006-02-19T11:11:00.000-08:00

Wow, this feels altogether like a different world-- I just got back from WAIST, the West African Invitational Softball Tournament. A place for Peace Corps volunteers from several West African countries, american ex-pats living in the region and even Japonese ex-pats and west africans working within the ex-pat community to get together and celebrate a great American tradition-- co-ed slow pitch softball. It was so strange-- we've been here so many months and all of a sudden we were dropped into this softball paradise with high school cheering sections, ball park hot dogs and a swimming pool. I even played my first softball game ever (I have a real future in this, I promise). Anyway, it was a great two days (especially the morning where Kari and I gave up the game and just had a few beers before heckling the other team on our way to a sweet victory)-- but in an eerie way I think for myself and for a lot of other volunteers it was the most homsick we had felt too-- just too much American-ness... families there with their kids watching the games during the day and then nights out to the bars that awkwardly resembled college nights ( you know; back when I was in college) Still definitely worth it

For those of you who will appreciate this too... during the 4-day event there are a number of activities that Senegal Peace Corps volunteers host in order to raise funding and awareness of the gender and youth-oriented programs that volunteers host during the year at their respective sites. There are some great activities; including bike tours for girls, girls and boys clubs, scholarship programs for good students and lots more-- all of which takes a little bit of cash. So anyway, there is a silent auction we do where we try to offer products and services to the ex-pat community-- and I threw some tennis lessons on there.... so there have been a few bids, but it is more just my own selfish desire to finally play some tennis!!! (there are maybe 2 courts in the country)

We also just had a wonderful afternoon visiting our tech trainer in his home in Dakar-- he invited some of the people in the small business development program over for lunch during the tournament, and also so that we could meet his wife and two little girls... again I wish I could put photos up, it was fantastic. It is always overwhelming to see how the ex-pats live in Senegal-- the nicest parts of town and far removed from the center-- but our tech trainer welcomed us as Senegalese and as a Senegalese would-- it was maybe the first real glimpse of the city we have had

One more thing about all of this -- we have only been in Thies for a week, but I am already anxious to get back to site. There is something so real and comfortable about living with my Senegalese family, in my humble compound and working with the members of my community every day that is so much more satisfying than running around Dakar-- it really doesn-t even compare to the rest of the country.

Thanks for all your notes and emails, can't wait to hear more!!!

Diewol

2006-02-06T13:05:00.000-08:00

So good to be connected with you all again!!! I have internet in Louga, but usually the cost and the frustration involved with trying to use a local internet connection is too much to bear-- plus I really have been busy with work, which has prevented me from getting to the internet cafes during their opening hours. So here I am back in Thies ready to start training again. All of the volunteers in my group have only been at site about 10 weeks but are already so changed!! The people from really far south have become pirates, the people from pulaar regions have taken on strange walks and interests in livestock... I could go on. thies feels big and bustling even compared to my busy town.

An interesting weekend past that I would love to share-- it is a bit complicated, so please bear with me.
Senegal is primarily Muslim- 95%, remaining Senegalese are Catholic or animist. The kind of Islam practiced here is a bit difficult to describe because it is based on brotherhoods as well as the teachings of spiritual leaders. In addition the fact that Islam was introduced and then the spread of colonialism hundreds of years later has led to a real mixing of legends, stories, myths.
I've participated in several religious ceremonies over the last few months, but this one last weekend was a big one.
So it's called Diewol, and it is specific to the brotherhood to which my family belongs. My mom here in Senegal is really involved with her religious group so I knew I needed to go and participate. The communication barrier between myself and my mom always presents some challenges-- she is amazing, but is really hard-core Wolof-- and speaks it so fast with such an old-lady slur that even her own children don't quite understand. So any way, she told me we were going, and I was okay with that, no questions asked.
Only after arriving at the Diewol (an empty clearing in the desert marked only by an empty well and a rusted sign at the side of a disintegrating road) did I learn the particular significance of Diewol. Apparently it is a really big deal, people come from all over the country in a pilgrimage to the place where their Grand Marabout once spent the night. I was actually quite impressed with the operation-- thousands of Senegalese came from all over, piling their food and enormous iron pots, tents and even livestock on top of fragile-looking buses we call Alhams ( they all have Allxamdulilah painted on the front, which is an Arabic blessing and seems to be an eerie prayer for survival when riding in aforementioned public transport). So anyway, thousands of rural, hyper religious Senegalese gather in the desert, far from anyone around, for what? I was asking myself the same thing-- then I got more explanation than I every could have wanted. The following is a conglomeration of the many different versions I heard over the weekend, you get to pick your favorite options just like a Choose Your Own Adventure.
So the marabout lived in Touba when the Tubabs (French colonizers, white people) came to the city called St. Louis-- this is late 1800s. The tubabs called the marabouts from all over the country to come to st. louis, an order from Charles de Gaulle. Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba refused to come from Touba because he said his god had not ordered him to come. So de Gaulle said he would send his soldiers to get him. So C.A.B. asked god what to do and god said he should go. So he left with all of his followers. While in transit he met the tubabs in teh desert at Diewol, he asked god what to do, god responded stay the night and pray. So all the followers stayed the night. During the night the colonizers dug a well but found no water, then the marabout found water. Then he encountered the devil (which I believe is somehow equated to the tubab) and cast him out of the desert. Then the Angel Gabriel came to him. Then the colonizers put him in the well, but he got out. and the end.

well, that's what I got out of it. Anyway, turns out I was naturally the only Tubab among all of these believers at Diewol-- well cared-for by my family, but that doesn't make it any less weird-- I was a real fascination for all people present, especially in my traditional Wolof attire.
Then I was asked to speak on the documentary that was being produced (on handheld ancient video camera with half-broken flood light) about what it felt like to be present at Diewol. My Senegalese mother coaching me from the side "Tubab bi dafa mettiwoon, wante leegi baaxna" (tubabs used to be difficult, but now they are good), which I dutifully repeated into the camera and then hung my head in shame.

Then we stayed up all night and blasted prayers through burnt out speakers into the desert until the dawn prayer-- then we went home. Oh yes, and my whole family who came to attend the celebration? They were there until curiously shortly after dark when they almost all split.... very tricky....

but still I was very glad I went-- my senegalese mom (and my American mom) set an example to live by. She took the best care of me, and welcomed hundreds of virtual strangers into our makeshift home to feed them and give them a place to sleep and then managed to stay up all night to pray-- quite a cultural experience.

man, writing one story just wears me out... is this good for now? hopefully I will get another one in soon

Miracles!

2006-01-27T03:48:00.000-08:00

(eeeek!!! I just reread my last post and saw how incredibly negative it was... no wonder no comments in three weeks!) Lots of much better news this time, I promise.

I don’t know how you manage to do it, but you pull me out of the « merde » every single time. I was fed up last week, absolutely sick of this place and on the verge of heading home—it had been going on for days--and then I received a whole wonderful bunch of letters and packages from home. It’s such an amazing feeling to get news from home, I can’t quite express how much it helped lift up my day. (Jan, the kids went wild for the candy you sent, and my sisters love to look at the magazine with me. Jonathan and Bridget, I already have dreams about pork chocolate, now you're just giving substance to my obsession. And mom. You’re awesome, I’m convinced you would send a Toys R Us if you had the chance-- and thanks for thinking of me too, Luna Bars and trail mix go a long way on those millet porridge days)

No matter what I am dealing with personally, I also have to give tremendous credit to the Senegalese people I have had the good fortune of meeting and working with. I know I haven’t written at all about my work (boooor-ing) but I will appease the labor gods and give a little description right now. First of all, Peace Corps Senegal is set up so that I train for 2 months, go to my site (Louga) for 3 months, and then return for a second training session that lasts 1 month before I start really working in Louga. The reason for this is that the culture and business environment in Senegal is so different from home that it honestly takes 3 months in order to understand how it works and who you are dealing with. I am currently completing my 3-month stay in Louga and getting ready to head back for my second training.

So, during the past several weeks it has been my business to know everyone else’s business. I drop into the ministry offices, personal businesses and association headquarters to ask how things are run, what problems people are having and what their goals are for their work and for their livelihood. The experience is incredible—every day I sit with new people and ask them about what they value and what they expect of the future. The people here in Louga have a rich outlook on development and take ownership for the promotion of their country--the real miracle. I am constantly amazed at the pride and hope people express when speaking of their work. Senegal is a country with few resources and a nascent economy, but its people are not deterred. I just recently met a man who recognized a need for better guidance and better care among small children (there are complex problems with the education system that I won't go into now) In any case, he has devoted his life to a preschool that he opened. Now he manages 80 children every single day. By himself. Truly remarkable. First miracle.

Second miracle is that the chocolate cookies my mom sent by mail survived! (you are the best) I defy you, African sun, heat and sand!

Third miracle is that in the same day I met another man who has also dedicated his life to the service of his community. How? You might be familiar with the Boy Scouts of America? Little did we know; it also exists in Senegal (except here it is pronounced "les scoots") Carrera, as he is named, manages a group of "scoots" that numbers close to 400; developing an annual training program and leading the youth in education and social responsibility.

One final example is my family here in Louga. I don't think I've spoken enough about them honestly, but they are a daily miracle. The kids rush to help me bring in my bags or pull my bkie across the sand. They water my garden for me every day and can't wait to tell me when they see a new seedling sprout. My mom and all my sisters; aunts; and brothers are incredibly kind and generous. They want to include me in every aspect of their lives, which is a gift that few people are afforded. They are even patient with my Wolof :) They are also really working for development, which I find incredible. They are primarily uneducated and unable to find work in Louga (all the adult sons have left to find work elsewhere), but they still serve in different capacities to the community, including managing a chicken coop and a micro garden that are designed to raise funds to build a new classroom in their over-flowing public school.

So these are tiny tiny examples of how impressed I am with people here. It maybe doesn't sound like much, but I think it is important to realize that they are working with almost no resources, no compensation. When it is nearly impossible to find a job it is remarkable that people are willing to give so much of themselves to a volunteer or community organization.

These are my good thoughts for the day, all my best!!!

Meryl

"If I ever get real rich, I hope I'm not real mean to poor people, like I am now."

2006-01-06T05:45:00.000-08:00

I had to open with this little Jack Handey jem because it's the truest sentiment I have ever felt. I heard this a million times during my training here in Senegal: "this experience will make you very angry" but I didn't fully comprehend it. Now I do. I have become an angry individual. You've seen me batter a child in the street, you've heard me tell grown men that they are ugly. what could happen next? don't worry, I'll tell you all about it-I particularly resemble the Incredible Hulk on an angry day.

So nevermind getting "toubab-ed" by kids in the street. Nevermind being asked for money, marriage or a trip to the US. All of these things are understandable, and honestly at the bottom of things they are not done maliciously. Usually it is just joking in a culture whose humor has almost no comparison to our own. However, there is one last bridge that I have not yet been able to cross. On rare occasions I am absolutely accosted by Senegalese men. They are so aggressive and egotistical that you would laugh if you saw it.

Last night I had to come into Dakar. It's a long story, but I was offered a ride to the transportation post by an assistant to the mayor. Suddenly I discovered that we were not at all going to the "garage" but instead going to his home. Weird and inappropriate #1. It started off well, discussing work projects and integration, etc. He told me we were just stopping to have lunch and so that he could get his bag and then we would leave. Throughout the following 7 hours I was doomed to be in his presence. While in his home, with his wife constantly calling to check on him to make sure that he didn't forget anything, etc I had to deal with the classic Senegalese machismo. Within moments of our work conversation being finished I was reduced to the most helpless and inept creature he had ever encountered. Not only did he continually propose that I would soon see-- I would become his mistress and carry many of his children, but he also insisted on translating everything into French and even into maybe the worst English I have ever heard. He called cabs for me, bought water for me, everything that I do on my own every single day. In short he had to insure that I knew he was the most important guy around. We call this being the "patron" Anyway, there's the frustration of the day. I refuse to get into details on it, but it sure as hell makes you want to work for women's advancement in Senegal.

On a better note, I am having the most therapeutic day here in Dakar. Our excellent medical team checked me out (and I'm sure they will diagnose my hypochondria shortly). I had a long discussion with our peerless and fearless Technical Trainer the marabout Bamba Fall and I even got some sweet thorn-resistant tubes for my bike.

One thing that really depresses me is that my last post on my dear friend Pape Samb was lost, but I'll re-write it for you soon.

thanks to you all, missing you!
love,
Meryl

Percussion Festival and Youssou Ndour

2005-12-29T03:19:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays! I hope you are well and sitting around a fire wearing big wool sweaters, singing carols and drinking eggnog. Okay,we all know Christmas isn't really like that, but that's what we pretend when we are far away :)

I'm still having computer issues, so sadly pictures are still delayed

I went to Dakar the day after Christmas to run a bunch of errands and have decidedthat I am not ready for the city. So I promptly returned to Louga (this is a really good sign--I actually want to be here and want to work). But first, I went to Dakar with a fewother volunteers and Kari and I found a movie theater, which happened to be showing the new Harry Potter movie ( the only movie available, and in French, and in a 100° theater, but none of this mattered) I was particularly lost because of my poor French and the fact that I haven't read the book, but we were helped along by the audience..... throughout the entire film the audience responded by wild clapping, cheering, booing or tsk-tsking depending on Harry's predicament. It wasmy first movie that resembled a southern Baptist religious revival, and we loved it. I didn't get much out of the film, but I did enjoy the Senegalese.

This was followed by a Youssou Ndour concert in Louga. As I think I've mentioned before Youssou Ndour is a grammy-winning Senegalese artist who is dubbed "the voice of Africa" He has been wildly successful, but has chosen not to leave Senegal andinstead has re-invested part of his fortune in developing music and the arts in Africa. In any case, he did the concert for 1500 CFA, the equivalent of 3 dollars and it was beautiful. If you ahve the chance to check out his music I highly recommend it.

Finally there was the International Festival of Folklore andPercussion inLouga--for the past 5 years they have held this free five day festival which hosts excellent music, singing and dancing from all over Africa and French speaking European countries (even South Korea is in attendance this year!!!) so I've been fully entertained the last few days. The dancing and music here is absolutely unique and compelling. The center of everything is the drumming--done on different kinds of traditional drums similar to bongo drums. The interesting thing is that the music is polyrhythmic-- I'm not sure if I can explain this well-- but the dancing is so wild you would think that it is random, but after watching for a while you can see that the dancer chooses one drum to focus on and moves with it-- it's a kind of communication between the dancer and the drum beat. maybe you have to see it ( shameless plug for coming to visit....)

now that I've been so serious, one little story. Okay, kids here are bastards. seriously. i don't know what it is, but they are all little trouble makers, rude and mean. okay, they aren't all bad, but itis stort of accepted that this is how kids behave. anyway, part of the culture here is moving into the sort of age system-- you don't have to do anything someone younger than you asks... It has been weird,but I amlearning that I have to assert my authority over kids-- they run errands for me, they do the cleaning around the house, etc. and I absolutely should not tolerate rudeness from kids (or else they will walk all over me and make me miserable) even to the point that volunteers pull switches from trees to hit kids with ( I know, we may not agree, but that is how it is here)

okay, now that I've hopefully explained.... Walking through the festival the other night Kari and I are completely badgered by kids-- they call us names, they touch us, they shout at us-- the new thing is to light firecrackers and throw them at people-- and it isn'tjust us, but being white people we are major targets... So finally after this happens so many times I finally take a kid (probably 12 years old) as he is brushing past us and I smack him, hard, on the face. The stupid grin drained from his face and we were left alone for the rest of the evening. So Martin Luther King might not be proud, but it was the most gratifying action I've taken in recent past. and Kari and I got good laughs from it for the rest of the night too :)

I've changed...

Happy holidays! watch the bowl game for me-- I amexpecting updates!!!!

New Links

2005-12-23T03:09:00.000-08:00

I had to add a few links to the sidebar-- please check them out. First there is a very good website created by some Notre Dame grads who went on to service in various capacities and in various parts of the world. The breadth of information and testimonial availablehere is incredible- a valuable resource.

Following that are links to three other Senegal volunteer blogs from my training group.
Evan is an agroforestery volunteer in the central region of the country, near Kaffrine
Lauren is an eco-tourism volunteer in the beautiful delta region
Kari is a fellow small enterprise development volunteer in my region but in a smaller town.

There experiences are rich and varied, I hope you benefit from reading about them!

All my best, Merry Christmas!

Meryl

Making Mud Pies

2005-12-17T07:18:00.000-08:00

well folks, I have lots of exciting news on this end...

but first I should start with a little disclaimer, it all should be obvious but I want to stress that everything on this blog is a highly personalized and thus biased opinion. What I am most concerned about is that some of my posts may seem negative towards Senegal or the Peace Corps, etc. Please take my views with a grain of salt. Moving here and settling in is naturally full of highs and lows and unfortunately sometimes I let the "lows" take over. I feel that it is good to write about the frustrations because the struggles are a fundamental part of the experience and without them there would be no room for growth-- so when you read about these frustrations remember that they are just frustrations and they would be interpreted by others to be perfectly normal-- and also have faith that I will bounce back :)

Also on that note I want to thank everyone that sent messages after my last post and also for a certain Michael Flatley starring in Celtic Tiger t-shirt-- you guys are amazing, I don't know what I would do without you

That said I'd like to get to the fun stuff. Someone was asking me about health conditions here in Senegal which I think are really improving- there is a lot of energy given to AIDS awareness, lots of free vaccinations for kids, Red Cross health posts as well as Peace Corps health volunteers. My family even wash their hands before and after meals (which really impressed me). But then there are a few things that lead me to believe otherwise... one example. We have a visiting relative in my house at the moment, essentially an older aunt for me. She is playing with one of the babies the other day when she realizes he has a cold and his nose is running. She promptly covers the baby's mouth and nose with her mouth, sucks the snot out of his nose and spits it into the sand at her feet. And repeats. So you see.....

A couple days over the past week I rode out to a nearby village where a fellow volunteer is building an enormous mud bread oven. I finally fulfilled my dream of playing with poop for hours on end. My two co-volunteers mixed animal manure and clay while I was a "slinger and spreader" meaning I threw huge mud-poop-pies at the oven and sculpted it into a beautiful round dome. There are photos to come I promise, but for the moment you'll have to use your imagination. I also carried water on my head, which (I don't care how easy they make it look) is really really hard. Fifty pounds of water sloshing around on my head while traversing mushy sand dunes does not feel good. And I got to wear a muscle tee. And the kids we paid to help us asked me if I was a boy a or a girl... for those of you who remember a certain Tom Petty comment from a certain Maria's boyfriend from a certain party on Washington street last year should particularly appreciate this.

Then; I got sick; again. OKay; essentially I have some kind of parasite/amoeba/hypochondriac tendancy that has been knocking me out every once in a while for the last month. It's usually kind of funny because my family doesn't really get what is going on and I can't communicate very well, so they think I am just tired but the other day I was really sick and was in bed all day. My family started freaking out and wanted to rush me to the hospital or to Dakar. It can be kind of scary because people don't fully understand illness and how to treat it, yet they are surrounded by some very serious and very preventable diseases like malaria and tuberculosis, even polio. There are all kinds of "Wolof remedies" which are based on soaking certain bits of wood in water and drinking the water or mixng certain powders together-- some of which work for some minor maladies, but clearly in the case of malaria, etc. they don't work at all.

Anyway, my family took really great care of me, to the point of leaving 3 different meals in my room; including an entire fish; none of which I could eat... but then randomly in the middle they also brought in 12 random to wake me up and then sit on the opposite side of the room to look at photos of a random wedding. I may never understand.

I'm out of time for now, but I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful Christmas and New Years!!! I wish I could be home to spend my time with all of my loved ones, but I take heart knowing that the time already passes quickly! All my best wishes for the new year!

patience

2005-12-11T11:00:00.000-08:00

okay I think I got my first real kick in the stomach and now I'm recovering thanks to a lot of sleep and cookies from the tubab store (a place owned by white people and containing certain white people products such as toilet paper and cookies-- I even found a can of coca cola light which I am very excited about)

The past week was frustrating- really frustrating -- and now I realize what they meant when they said I will learn what it's like to be a minority for the first time in my life -- and they weren't kidding. I don't want to dwell on this since it certainly is not what the experience is about, but I also think it is i^mportant because it explains a lot about the culture here and also how I live. First and foremost is the language, which I have struggled with recently-- but I'm starting to realize that I can't put pressure on myself because it is going to take a long time no matter what I do, so I am just going to start over and keep working at it. Part of the frustration is that the language is not really a written language; so people cannot write words for me and there is little chance of understanding a grammar system. I am working on finding someone who can tutor me, but this isn't a very common thing so I(ll have to wait and see.

Second there is the fact of being a complete outsider-- and white-- I completely underestimated how important this would be. Complete strangers yell "tubab" : white person when I pass on the street. I know; it sounds ridiculous, but it is completely acceptable here. White people are so rare that it is big news when one is around- sometimes it feels like people are being really rude (would we ever yell out at someone like this?) and sometimes I just realize that people are looking for something to do, they just want to talk, or they are curious why I am here. Still it takes a lot of patience some days.

so I kind of hid out in my house for a while with my family so I could regroup-- and that is where things started getting fun. I got put to the test by the 11 women in the household-- they find it really strange that I leave the house every day to go into town to work, that I wear pants, that I don't wear earrings ( another funny story on this to come) etc; So I decided to hang out and do the things that women do-- All of their chores have a very specific process, mopping, doing laundry, cooking. It's so funny, but all I had to do was try everything once, show them that I couldn't do it the way that they do it and they were satisfied. For example, the one that every female volunteer has to deal with is laundry. Thus ensues the exchange:

Senegalese sister : Can you "foot" ?(meaning handwash clothing while making a specific sound with the water that passes through your hands during the process-- similar to a high pitched squish)

Me: No, I can't "foot" (thinking damn right i can, just not with your silly noise)

SS: Here; try this ( at the same time calling the 15 other people around to come watch the tubab "foot")

Me: OKay, I'll try. ( and trying in earnest, and doing just fine if the objective was just to get the clothes clean, but no-- it is also to make "the noise")

Peanut gallery: Oh look! Fary is trying to "foot"! how sweet. ( and failing) Fary, you should probably pay one of your sister's to do your laundry for you.

Me: oh well I tried.... (damn right I will)

and so it goes. I don't know how to react, if I should be happy that I have better things to aspire to or feel defeated that this is what senegalese women aspire to.... Maybe I haven't been clear, maybe I've just been bitter? but I hope I have been at least descriptive

till next time!

week 2

2005-12-08T04:37:00.000-08:00

okay, I honestly hope that I don't post quite so often in the future because internet caes are just way too easy a place to hide out and pretend like I am working...

I need to share with you another, favorite quirk... it has to do with Africa time-- I'm sure you've all heard of this phenomenon and I am really impressed by how it functions in reality. Of course a lot of this experience is based on my own poor understanding of Wolof and of the Senegalese culture; but it is still funny all the same. So the other day a friend of mine, Kari (whose blog you can find at this address www.livejournal.com/users/kbsenegal) comes in to visit. We spend a great day sharing our stories (frustrations) and just laughing (it feels so good to laugh after so much Wolof). Then we are supposed to meet another friend for lunch across town-- we decide to take a horse cart called a gallesh-- it's sort of a cheap form of taxi. our gallesh driver promptly starts going the opposite direction from where we want to go. Kari and I start making a fuss, because this 14 year old taxi driver thinks he can just run his toubab passengers wherever he wants. He assures us that he knows where he is going but just has to run an errand first (first lesson-- my time is your time and no one is in a hurry) so we drive into the middle of the market so he can run his errand. We start moving again only to stop a hundred meters later. The driver gets out and we wait patiently.... but then we look around and realize the driver is hanging out behind the car with some friends eating and smoking a cigarette (second lesson-- meal time is paramount) so we decide to get out of the car and take a taxi instead. Our driver sees us; hails us a second gallesh which inevitably tries to charge us 3 times the normal fare. Our now friendly driver yells at the new driver and lets us continue on our way out to the main road on foot. Five minutes later; as we are finally approaching the main road where we can get a cab our first gallesh driver passes us, calling out to us, as he has new passengers in his vehicle ( third lesson-- I have no idea-- does anyone have insight on this?!?)

So Kari and I are prepared for this-- the Senegalese operate differently than we do and we can accept it even if we dont understand it :) and we are able to laugh it off. but now my favorite part of the whole story... a few days later the gallesh driver passes me on the road; calls out to me- so now we are the level of friends that hang out and greet each other even though he left us stranded further from our destination than where he picked us up-- the irony of it always good for a laugh :)

a couple quirks

2005-12-04T11:46:00.000-08:00

i think the most common feeling here is just that I am along for the ride. At this point, not knowing the language or the people very well, there must be 50 percent of the day just given to following, blind wandering and utter confusion. from the moment I make my tea in the morning I am bound to be stumped by how to use my silly little half broom, how to hail a horse cart and how best to decline a marriage proposal from my aunt's cousin.

That said, there are two little habits among the Wolof that I've started to at least recognize, if not understand- and "knowing is half the battle" First we have the teasing. Wolofs are known among Peace Corps Volunteers to be extremely abrasive, aggressive, even rude-- I knew there had to be a reason for this-- the Senegalese are such peaceful people, they don'teven like to disagree, so whydo they feel the need to heckle every stranger they see in their community? The truth is; it is completely normal for people to act like this-- they rarely see a foreigner, especially a white one and beyond that this is how the Senegalese act between themselves-- it's just another way of passing the time- constant banter and joking. Some days I can feel it starting to get to me and some days it is no big deal-- it has caused me to adopt this sort of rough persona ( I know, I am very intimidating) so now I can respond to some people without being frustrated. Now when the kids on the street ask me for my watch or my shoes I tell them I want their mother. When my neighbor tells me he loves me I tell him he's ugly. I don't know; I think I'm on my way to sucessful community integration :)

new digs

2005-12-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

Here we go, I'm finally joining the group and using a blog. considering my computer's recent death by dust; I've had to turn to less favorable ways of communicating--- so now email might come a bit more slowly, so bear with me.

okay, they finally freed us from Thies and training center. The big news was the swearing in ceremony, which was held in Dakar at the Ambassador's residence. It was particularly ridiculous because Peace Corps asked us to perform a skit to illustrate what our work in Senegal is-- we ended up doing most of the skit in pantomime (could this get any better?) because there are so many national languages that we wanted to respect and include. It was supposed to be a very solemn celecbration which we punctuated with a bunch of toubabs (white people) dressed in formal traditional clothing (think flowing robes and lots of sparkle) running around pantomiming farming; etc. went off without a hitch.

since that day its like we're entirely new people-- language exams are over and we've all moved out to site. up until this point we were so confined to the training center-- and virtue of being a government organization, there was a mile of red tape to go through before we could do anything, now I feel like I've got my feet on the ground. Unfortunately all my beautiful technology is down for the moment, but I'll pass photos along as soon as possible. So, a few words about my site. I am in a city called Louga, roughly 100,000 people strong, although they say it is an urban village-- tons of people but lacking infrastructure. The city is only about 3 hours from Dakar, which will be extremely convenient, but it is also in the North, which means it will be hot--- really really hot. I'm already working on getting a fan installed and it's the cold season now...

When I moved here on Monday I was so sick from eating bad chicken at an aluminum shack with a poster of bin Laden on the wall (who would have thought?) I'm sure it is only the first on many many illnesses. Ever since spending some time in bed I am back on my feet and moved into my house. My family is wonderful ( and enormous-- there must be 15 kids under the age of 8). I have been re-baptized Fary Sarr and my namesake is my mom. Normally I would be bummed because this name so closely resembles Farty, but my mom is too awseome not to be proud of it-- she is a grandmother many times over and extremely kind and attentive-- she is also president of a major women's group in Louga. She is just one of those people who goes out and gets things done, which I think is hard to find-- plus she just takes care pf everyone, and she has a sweet traditional tattoo over her mouth and chin. THis is a lot to start-- so more later; promise!