I think there are fire ants in my mattress

Before I continue, for those of you that are interested, there are new photos up in my Snapfish account. Snapfish.com Email address is meryl.guyer@gmail.com and Password is Senegal. The October 2006 album is new and there are even little captions.

I wanted to include a few photos from the week of the funeral because I actually got a few with me in them and realize that they might be more interesting than bunches of Senegalese people that you don't know :) The funeral itself was solemn, but also really beautiful. The house filled with people from all over the country who came to pay their respects. I think that everyone in the family was quite honored.





The women cooking in 18 big pots for all the guests.



trying to help out, but mainly playing for the camera



Me and Pape



It's a Monday, and I can understand that... but even after a year, I can't help being annoyed when the person I am scheduled to meet with Monday at 9 am is still on an extended weekend in Dakar... and then the person I should meet at 11 has gone to the "allebi", the bush, which somehow takes on a black-hole/vacuum-esque quality whose absorbing force cannot be measured. "Do you know when he will be back?" Response "Eh, he went to the allebi" from this I am supposed to understand a timeframe...? So I resigned myself to whatever catch-up work I could get done in my office.

The office is quite a place. Like so many of us I think, I dread going to the office. But I maintain that my reasons are different. Every time I approach the building, an old colonial style that also houses the offices of the city Prefect, I have to playfully banter with the 6 idle adult males at the door. What makes my stomach turn is not how every morning I do the same act through gritted teeth "no, I can't be your wife, you are too ugly for me... no I can't take you to America... no, I still can't cook ceeb u diene" but actually the fact they are adult men who are getting paid just to sit around. They are somehow employees. Of what and for what is the great mystery. One might be a driver... there's another guy who sorts the mail (? In a country with 40% literacy and almost atrophied local government, let's be honest the Prefect does not get that much mail)... who knows what the other 4 guys do. But they are always there. In fact, after I tried to shut my door to my office today and in so doing shattered a lightbulb on my head, one of these men told me that he was the one that pulled the wiring out of the wall and let it hang there, putting the bulb in the way of the door. Hmmmmm.... Very effective....

The morning did turn around though-- I was preparing and translating lesson plans when I had my other mid-morning visitors. the guinea hens were back. Every day they roll in around 11:30... usually I just shoo them away and its not a big deal. What would possibly attract a pack of guinea hens to my cement and tile office anyway? And have you ever seen a guinea hen? I will try to get a photo, but they must be a Dr. Seuss creation-- an oversized oblong body set at a steep angle that looks almost like a football in a stand, and then a goofy little head that pokes up and around like an ostrich. Anyway, this particular morning caught me distracted and I ignored the hens pecking around on my floor for a few minutes. When I finally looked up again from my computer the ring leader had hopped onto the chair across the desk from me and sat there demanding answers. "Oh you too?" Until this very moment I am wondering how such an unwieldy body and useless wings got that hen all the way up onto the chair.

It seemed to coincide with the turmoil I have in my head. I can't get two thoughts together myself and this stupid half-ostrich is demanding answers? I'm caught in this endless debate about what to do after Peace Corps and I have no idea where to go. So here it is guys, this is the real chance to give me your opinions. What is a good field? Where can I make enough money to put an end to my rice and pounded leaf sauce diet? Do I need to go back to school? I was thinking med school but exploring options and who knows? Journalism? Public Policy? Could I really be a doctor? It's not all that far away...

Who wins the prize?

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

on BBC

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

check it out

trapped!

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

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!