Obligatory Picture Post

So I realized that I have never posted any pictures here, mostly because the internet is really slow. But I decided to try because pictures are way more fun than rambly posts!

All dressed up for Korite- the end of Ramadan. Note how sweaty I am because this outfit was really warm and it was a very hot day.

My host brother and sister on Korite

Dinner!

So the internet is still really slow! Check out my Facebook album here.

Hera

 Hera was the wife of Zeus but she is also the eighty pound pitbull that lives with me here in Dakar. Hera is still young, less than two years old, but she is already much stronger than most members of my household. Often I have seen her chase down cats with a fury that is unmatched by even the most avid hunters. One day, a cat ran up a five foot wall and flipped over backwards to avoid her foamy jaws. Lucky for the cat, it was Khadim and not me holding the leash because there is no way I can contain Hera when she decides to run. These hunts are undertaken, I think, with play in mind, but with a dog this big, things get out of control fast. Hera is pure, sleek muscle. She is a beautiful dog. And incredibly powerful. The biggest problem is that Hera is unbelievably obedient, but only to my host brother Khadim. A single noise from him and she submits and walks away, tail between her legs. A firm word from me invokes no response, except maybe to jump on my lap, nevermind that Hera is no lap dog. Occasionally when Khadim is gone and she makes trouble, my mother is able to do something about it, but when left to my own devices I am completely unable to tame this beast.

The other night I invited Joe over, and a little while into his visit Hera came into the living room. Initially she caused no trouble, but soon she got antsy and decided Joe would be a great playmate. She started rolling all over the floor, putting her giant head in his lap, and slobbering everywhere. When he stood up to try to make her leave, she leapt on him with full force and he was forced to push her down. She also tried to get me in on the game, but I think that she preferred Joe's company to mine. Hearing my weak attempts to get her to stop in French, Wolof, and Frolof, my mother came out and put Hera in our back courtyard with the door firmly latched. But no door will contain this beast! On top of being obedient, Hera is incredibly intelligent. She is able to open latched doors by jumping up and pulling the handles down with the weight of her paws as she falls. So no less than five minutes after locking her outside, Hera was back for more. Joe was not in the mood. I don't think his hatred for dogs was about to be tamed by this friendly giant. And the best part is that she managed to break in a second time after being exiled by Moustapha as well. It took a deadbolt to keep Hera outside, but even then we could hear her walking around, moving furniture as she went. It sounds just like a person moving outside when she is there.

“The beast” from The Sandlot is actually living here in Mermoz with me, not next to a baseball field in an American suburb. No chain will hold her! No door will stop her! Oh Hera, the Beast.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

So I have attempted to start a Google map of some of the places in and around Dakar that I frequent. Just to give you an idea of where I go and what I do. I don't know if that link will actually work, and this is my first attempt at a google map, so if it fails miserably let me know!
This weekend we took a hilariously dysfunctional day trip to Lac Rose, about 30 km outside Dakar. The lake is supposed to be a pretty intense pink because it is super saline and has crazy bacteria in it. However, it is the rainy season so the pink color (while visible to us when the sun was out) did not show up well in photos as the constant rain dilutes the lake more than usual. It also had flooded the beaches! Bummer. The coolest part for me was seeing the small-scale salt collectors at work. They dig salt off the bottom of the lake, pull it in pirogues to shore, and let it dry before bagging it and trucking it off for processing elsewhere. It was really nice to be out of the city for awhile, although I did get my first sunburn. Wearing cap sleeves was a poor choice! Talk about funny tan lines...
The drive to and from Lac Rose was also pretty trying. A lot of the roads were washed out/flooded and I was a little surprised our taxi made it through all the way. We ended up paying a ton (10,000 FCFA or about $20) for the drive, and I understood why as soon as we hit the suburbs. Our cab driver was great though, and even though the car broke down at one point and had to be pushed out of a sand pit by another taxi driver and a horde of children at another point, we made it fine. He also listened to a CD that was a mix of Avril Lavigne and Britney Spears' greatest hits. I think there was some Chingy too. That made the day so much better. I really should write about this in more detail, but I am a little sleepy and I need to go home now, so that will have to wait for another day.

Please sir, I want some more.

The places and people I see everyday in Dakar are really not all that different than big cities in the US. Granted, there is a lot more concrete and trash in the roads, but the major features of the city are generally the same. Lots of buses. Lots of people in nice clothing. The one thing that I have been noticing lately is the ubiquity of beggars. Panhandlers exist in Minnesota just the same, but the number of children and women with infants out on the roads is unbelievable. I don't know how I feel about it yet, but it is certainly not a sight I am used to. The practice is a little different here, and most people occasionally (or more often than that) throw coinage at the young boys with old tomato cans. Most of the boys out on the streets are what is known as talibes, students of Koranic teachers who are sent out on the streets to beg and give the profits to their teachers. I think that the practice is justified as being good for their moral character and education, but I will have to double check that. Oftentimes parents will send their sons away for an education at Koranic schools if they don't have the money to send them elsewhere or to feed them at home, meaning that the boys are usually solely in the hands of their marabouts (holy men who are often Koranic teachers). Recently a Senegalese court outlawed the practice of forcing talibes to beg, punishing a number of marabouts for sending their students to the streets The New York Times had a really good article about it a few days ago. It strikes me as a very exploitative practice and I myself have never given money to the talibes. I guess it is regarded differently here. I think a lot of people were pretty shocked by the court's decision to regulate this common practice. I know that even in Senegal opinions of the talibes are fairly divided. On my first day here, my mom took extra time to explain to me that I shouldn't give them money. Maybe some bread or food, but never money. She seems to fall in the camp of people who disagree with the value of begging. Others seem to think it is more acceptable. I don't think I have been here long enough to say with any certainty what I think, but the visions of talibes and women wandering up and down the roads asking for money stand out. I will have to give it some more thought before I decide how I feel about it.  

Gregor

Last night I awoke from an eerily realistic dream to see something that displeased me greatly: two rather large cockroaches crawling across my walls and floor. I have never seen cockroaches in my room before, and while I have known that they probably exist, I didn't like the fact that they had decided to use my room as a nighttime playground. To put this in context: I sleep on a mattress on the floor, with no blankets to speak of. The thought of going to bed only to discover a cockroach crawling up my leg was too much to think of. So naturally, I pulled out my headlamp and scared them under the bed frame (sans mattress that I use to hold my stuff...) in my room. I was too scared of the thought of being attacked by them to sleep, so I sat up with my headlamp and tracked the buggers across my floor and walls, listening to them explore the piles of clothes that I have piled up on my bed. My room was oppressively hot, but I couldn't bring myself to turn on the fan, which was altogether too near to the cockroaches for my liking, until I had sat watching them for twenty minutes. Once I turned the fan on, I decided I was being silly and obviously I opted to roll myself up in my fitted sheet like a sausage link, leaving no chance for the cockroaches to touch my skin. It was really quite hot under there, but I settled for sweating profusely rather than allowing cockroaches to attack. After awhile, I pulled my head out from under the sheet and, wishing I had a green man suit, decided I needed to keep my face uncovered for the sake of my breathing. I opted to turn on my headlamp and face it towards the cockroaches, believing that they wouldn't dare come near my face with the light on. I put my earphones in and cranked up some music, trying to ignore the sound of their dastardly little legs scrambling around my room. By this point it had been more than an hour and I settled into an uneasy sleep, only to wake up exhausted. I don't know if the cockroaches ever came near me. Maybe they found enough to do on my bed/playground. Regardless, I did not appreciate them moving in.


Turns out I have a fear of being touched by cockroaches.

Markets, babies, and beer, oh my!

Saturday afternoon I went with Russell and two girls from another study broad program (Emily and Maddie- whose name is spelled exactly like mine) to one of the markets on the plateau of Dakar. We took a car rapide, a form of public transport known for being cheap and fairly inefficient. The car rapides are painted bright shades of blue and yellow and often bear the names of Muslim leaders or other religious phrases. They hold anywhere between 10 and 25ish people depending on their size and the interiors resemble usually school buses, sometimes featuring improvements such as curtains. It is common for them to be lacking windows. One of our professors told us that the average age of a car rapide in Dakar is 30 or 40 years old, thus it is also common to see them broken down on the side of the road. The questionable conditions of the cars is worth the risk for the most part, fares for the car rapides are 100 to 150F CFA, or about 20 to 30 cents. They can take you all over the city and are very useful. So Emily, Maddie, Russell and I hopped on a car rapide (they don't run on routes really, but it is fairly predictable where they go...you ask the boys hanging off the back if they are going to your destination and tap on the roof when you want to get off...) and went off to the market.

The market we visited is called Sandaga and is well known as a spot to buy clothes and fabric, among other things. I think it is a fairly popular destination for tourists, and it was really clear that to most people we were just a bunch of toubabs walking around with dollar signs painted on our backs. People were really persistent in following us down the road, showing off wares, and trying to get us to visit their shops. The compliments flowed readily, and people tried to use a couple of common scams, such as “remember me? I am your friend! Mohammed! From the hotel!?” in order to get us to go off with them. A lot of people were very friendly and amused when I tried to speak Wolof with them, but I was pretty skeptical of most people who approached us on the street. Maddie and I were called racists at least once or twice when we ignored people who were following us down the road. One of the most stressful parts of being in the market was the constant attention. There was no such thing as browsing. Bargaining is also difficult. My mother told me to divide the initial price by at least half, if not more, when I was trying to bargain with people. I think I ended up paying more than I probably should have for the fabric I bought to make a dress, but I guess that is to be expected because my bargaining skills are not up to par yet. It takes so much energy to bargain. You have to really be willing to walk away and play the games, and I was pretty tired so it was probably not the best day for me to purchase things. I didn't get too ripped off though, I don't think. I may have paid 200 CFA more per yard than I maybe should have, but that is fine. I probably lost a dollar or two.

After a few hours at the market it was definitely time to take a break. Maddie and I walked to the rendez-vous point we had arranged with Russell and Emily, and we all went to get N'Ice Cream (which really delicious and fatty and bad for you. And expensive. It is made with like whole cream and costs about the same as Cold Stone or something would. Dairy products are pretty rare here, so it is expensive to get pizza, ice cream, and other such foods). It was delicious though! We hung out in the air conditioned restaurant, and then proceeded to walk down the Ave George Pompidou to the area where we were going to meet our friends that evening. We still had some time to kill, but we found the restaurant we'd be going to later and then settled into a Lebanese joint called Ali Baba where I ate some falafel and watched a soccer match on TV. Then Griffin and Joe, who had boldly walked the 2ish hours from our side of Dakar to the plateau, joined us for some quality toubab hangout time. We sat in the restaurant for hours, but the funniest thing was that the people on the street continued to try to sell us things. They don't come inside the restaurants, but they do hold up products to the windows, trying to get your attention. There was one man that stood outside Ali Baba for a solid 20 minutes trying to get the restaurant's patrons to notice the painting he was trying to sell. The funniest part about the painting is that it was gigantic. It was at least 3 feet long and 2 feet tall. Who in their right mind would buy such a large painting? I know, I will just put it in my backpack to take home...not. These types of propositions continued throughout the evening. We eventually left for a bar called Le Viking, where there was live music and a nice patio. Even there, with a security guard that kept people out and shrubberies to protect the patrons from propositions, we got continually hollered at to buy cell phone credits, jewelry, and art. It was super funny to randomly see things shoved through the bushes at us all night. But given the guard and the bushes, the offers were not as prolific as when we were just on the street. It was nice. A large group of us, ten or twelve maybe, sat outside all night, just chatting and hanging out. I was going to try to get to bed early, I didn't sleep again on Friday night, but I was having too much fun so I stayed out until like 1 again. My host mother made fun of me a lot on Sunday for staying out so late (mostly because I had said I would be home by like 10 and then sent her a text saying I would actually be home at 1 or so...). It was a good day, although I was exhausted by the time I went to sleep.

Today (Sunday) I ventured out with my mother and one of her friends, as well as another student on the program, Hallie to see a newborn! Our mothers are good friends, so I think we will get to go on adventures with them occasionally. The mother of the new infant is Hallie's mom's niece (I think?) and the ladies were in the process of planning the baptism and naming ceremony, which will be held this upcoming Thursday, one week after the infant's birth. I think he was probably the youngest baby I have ever seen, only about two and a half days old! He was really adorable, with a shocking amount of hair! His head will be shaved as part of the ceremony on Thursday, but I hope they get a photo or something to commemorate how much hair he was born with! It was a really nice way to pass a lot of time on a Sunday. If I just stay home, the weekend days get fairly long. Admittedly, I have never actually stayed home all day. Usually if it is mid-afternoon and I am still at home, I just decide to go somewhere else instead, so it was nice to get out and about a bit, especially with my mom who I don't get to go out with all that often! Altogether, it has been a very good weekend. The time is going by really quickly. I think it is because I pass so much time planning things to do and getting out that it is easy to lose track of how long I have been here. I am actually starting to have a bit of school work to do, but the homework load is not nearly as heavy as it would be at Grinnell, which I am grateful for. I can't imagine trying to live and experience life in another country while also doing that much work for school. I will be finding out fairly soon where my internship will be, so I can start to look forward to that too!

Thinking of home.

I finally feel settled in here. My family is working out great. I have a routine down for going to school. I spend a lot of time on nights and weekends out exploring the city. My stomach feels much better. Everything is falling into place! Even though I am really happy here, lately I have found myself longing for a few things from home...

1. Fall- The weather here is nothing like I would be experiencing in Iowa. I miss the crisp autumn days and the changing colors of the trees. I also miss eating (local, fresh) apples with caramel and pumpkins. I wish I could be making a Halloween costume and getting ready for Fall Break! And also starting to listen to Christmas music way too early. I am going to miss the entire run up to Christmas this year. And Thanksgiving! I will miss having Thanksgiving a lot. Which reminds me of another thing...
2. Comfort food! Especially having been sick, I have been craving chicken noodle soup and mashed potatoes with gravy. I eat potatoes almost every day, but there is nothing quite like warm, gooey food on a lovely fall day. The food here is usually pretty spicy, which is not what a person with an upset stomach is inclined to eat...
3. My bed- I have never been really attached to my bed, but the idea of a bed with a comforter and a pillow and the ability to just curl up under some covers is irresistible! It gets really hot here at night, so covers would be foolish, but sometimes I wake up wrapped in my flat sheet sweating profusely. I think I just like the feeling of being all bundled up. Especially since it turns out I am afraid of the dark.
4. Grinnell- It is different living in a bustling city than spending most of my time in a quiet Iowa town. I miss the community on campus and the ability to walk almost anywhere in 5 minutes. It is also way weird not getting to see my closest pals at a moment's notice!

I am happy that I made the decision to come home in time for Christmas. I have a lot to look forward to immediately upon my return! I am really enjoying my time here, but the prospect of having so long remaining before I get to go home gets a little daunting sometimes!  

My address

So mail takes awhile to go between Senegal and the US, but if you decide to mail me a letter here is my address:
Madelyn Gardner
WARC/CROA
Rue Ex Leon Gontran Damas
Fann Residence
B.P. 5456 Fann
Dakar, SENEGAL Africa


If you want something mailed to you, you should let me know your address! It might take weeks and it may be crinkly upon arrival.

Also my phone number is 221 77 140 3912. It is free for me if you call!

Heart of Darkness

The other night Joe and I were sitting in a boulangerie, surrounded by Middle Eastern men watching football who leapt out of their chairs at every exciting play. We had just finished an afternoon of visiting and drinking bloody marys with Peace Corps volunteers (thanks Steve!) at the regional office and decided we weren't quite ready to go home yet. We inevitably began to talk about visiting France, which is where we're going after this Senegalese adventure is finished. It is funny how I am always moving on mentally to the next thing, even when I have just begun my time here. I realized it isn't all that different from the way I usually regard trips and adventures (I often look forward to winter break at the beginning of fall semester for instance), but it is funny that the same forward-looking ideology is prevailing while I am still getting adjusted to living in Senegal. But that discussion wasn't nearly as profound as what we discussed next. As it turns out, both Joseph and I have a fear of the dark. It isn't as though I cry when the lights get turned off (which is lucky given how often the power goes out here), but I associate darkness with all things 'bad.' I try not to walk alone at night, I often think critters (mountain lions, lynx, etc) are stalking me or ready to jump out when I am alone in the woods at night, I always keep my body under my blankets or on my bed, etc. I realized this fear of the dark mostly because it directs my behaviors here as well. I am told to always take a taxi home. Even walking the block from my taxi drop off and my house makes me think that people are following me (as an aside: sometimes they are. I know this fear isn't altogether unwarranted, but I still laugh to think of how I instantly turn on my cell phone's flashlight when the power goes out). Especially as a woman, my family has instilled in me an extreme wariness of being outside. It took a trip across the Atlantic to realize that this association between the dark and evil things existed long before I came here. I have realized that while this wariness of dark areas is oftentimes a healthy, proactive measure to keep myself safe, I am a product of a culture that doesn't see value in darkness. I have grown up in suburbs, where streetlights almost never go out. In big cities, the darkness is seen as a venue for muggings and assaults, dangerous for people, especially women, to linger long. Some of this fear of the dark is warranted and necessary, but my inability to walk in a park without checking over my shoulder or spend the night outside without wondering what kind of animal might sneak up on me is a product of my tendency to overanalyze and my lack of experience being in dark, peaceful places. I didn't grow up in the big woods of Minnesota (although I really wish I had) and I don't spend very much time outside after dark. It's funny how inconsistent my responses to the dark are too though. I can go camping and be in the woods without fear (except when animals play with the tent zipper, that is really scary), but I can barely sit in my own darkened room without thinking I will see a face outside. This post has made me feel like people will think that my fear of the dark is a big problem. It really isn't. This fear is by no means debilitating. In fact, the older I get the easier it is to brush off my heebie jeebies and march triumphantly onto a darkened path. But in order to do that, I have had to admit to myself that I am not altogether comfortable being in the dark. Yes, the universal fear of 5 year old children has stuck with me into my twenties. Oh well. I can't be the only one.

Going out for Korite in Dakar!

Yesterday was Korite, the official end to Ramadan. It is a huge holiday here in Senegal. Everyone eats a ton and goes visiting in their finest clothes. Unfortunately, my taille basse was not ready in time, but my host sister was kind enough to lend me one of hers!  We ate and drank attaya (Senegalese tea) and friends came to our home. After eating, we put on formal clothes and I walked with Khadim and his friend Alioune to visit their friends in some neighborhoods close by. Most of the people we visited were Baye Falls or their families. I got such a big compliment at one house when one girl asked if I was French!Everyone was quite welcoming during our visits and I look forward to getting to see some of the people I met again. Especially the girls my age! I would love to get to hang out with some of my Senegalese peers because sometimes it is a little much to be around twenty-something men. One girl wants to practice her English and asked if I would help her in exchange for practicing Wolof, which I enthusiastically agreed to. After visiting, Khadim, Alioune and I rested for awhile before going out to find somewhere to go dancing. We didn't do much, but I did teach the boys the meaning of the word sassy. Basically, I just rejected Khadim's pleas for me to help him find an American to date in a sassy fashion and then had to find a good adjective to use to describe myself. So we rested for awhile and decided to get a move on after hearing from Khadim's sister. People go out/stay out obscenely late here. I get the impression everyone would laugh really hard if I tried to explain 2am bar close. We hung out at my house until about 12:30 and then headed to the house of Khadim's sister. His youngest sister is visiting right now (from France I think?), so there were two women in their twenty-somethings/young thirties and another cousin who is around Khadim's age I think. They were all really really nice and had some really funny kids. At one point, the daughter and son of Khadim's older sister did some traditional Senegalese dancing they had just learned and also strutted their stuff like models. Very sassy. I couldn't believe how late the little kids stayed up! When we left around 3:30, they were both up to say good bye to their mother! I don't know how much of that was korite/celebration and how much was daily life. Regardless, I admired their ability to stay up because at that time I was struggling.

But I had to wake up because it was 3:30 and finally time to go dancing! I was entirely unprepared for the level that women go to to beautify themselves here. I had put on a bit of makeup and a dress that I thought would be good for going out, but boy was I mistaken! His sisters are fashinistas that rocked microminis, tanks, teased hair, and three to four inch heels! They were hot stuff for sure. Fortunately, his younger sister is very kind and decided to dress me up a little, lending me a micro mini (although I maintained my leggings) and a tank to wear. She tried to get me to wear heels, but they were all so tall/too big and I thought I might kill myself trying to dance in them. I get the impression that Khadim's sisters are very well connected because they very much had hook ups at a great club in Ngor (a fancier part of Dakar). We arrived around 4 am at a club called Casino (where one can occasionally find celebs! No Akon last night though) and it was bumpin! I think it was extra busy because of Korite, but Khadim's cousin told me that on weekends it is always really full. We could barely move when we got to the bar, so Khadim's sister found a bouncer to take us to the booth that was reserved for us! It was nuts because the floor was packed shoulder to shoulder (at one point I think someone attempted to pickpocket me...?), but we had a nice bench to sit on and enjoy the champagne that his sister promptly ordered. His sisters also knew the DJ and got songs dedicated to them. The music was mostly American rap and pop, which the DJ frequently interrupted with his French slang. I was glad to know most of the music as it made dancing really fun. The funniest part of being on the dance floor was watching people watch themselves dance in the mirrors. I guess it is an accepted/cool thing to check yourself out in the mirror because the first four rows of people next to the mirrors were all dancing by themselves, looking at what they were doing. I don't know if all clubs are like that, but I guess it would be weird if that only happened at Casino. There was also a special performance for korite with drumming and Senegalese dancing, which was super cool to see, but it meant that we only got to dance for about an hour before I decided that it was time to go home. I probably would have stayed longer except that it was 6am and I figure that I want to try to do something else during the course of the weekend. I didn't want to waste all my energy on one night! It was a great night though! I owe Khadim's family a big thank you for a Korite well spent and a superb introduction into Dakar nightlife. It was a far cry from the hookah bar I hit up with my classmates last weekend, but both have their benefits. Right now it is raining so much that the floors of my house are flooding a bit. Everyone is mopping it up and it isn't a big deal, but I hope that it doesn't get worse before the rain stops. Flooding is a really big issue here during the rainy season, especially in the suburbs. Nothing is really designed to drain water, so it just stays around in people's houses, on roads, etc. The other day one of our classes had to be canceled because the prof lives in the burbs and only managed to make four kilometers progress towards our school in more than two hours! That is one thing that is truly difficult for me to fathom, but it is the reality here. I can't wait for the rainy season to be over, although I am going to have to wait awhile for that!  

Being sick is much sadder when you're halfway around the world...

So I wrote this on Thursday, but have only gotten internet now:

 I have been struggling with a severe bout of digestive issues of late and writing blog entries (or doing much else than just laying on my bed) has been out of the question. I will spare you the gory details, but needless to say it has not been a pleasant three days. I am taking some pretty strong medications to cure the problem, but for the time being, things are pretty miserable! It is especially difficult to be so far away from home, having health problems that I have never (at least not within my memory) had, and wondering if it is severe enough to warrant medical attention. I get the impression that it is good that I waited because I seem to be improving. If not, I guess it will have to wait until Saturday because tomorrow is KORITE! The end of Ramadan! Hilariously, we had to wait until tonight to find out if we have school tomorrow because no one really knew if the last day of Ramadan was going to be today or tomorrow. Muslim holidays are celebrated according to a lunar calendar, so we had to wait until sunset tonight to find out if it really was the last day of Ramadan! My mom was listening to the radio, a really common occurrence, and they made a public announcement that korite would indeed be celebrated tomorrow. It is funny because everyone insisted that they didn't know which day it would be, but I sort of get the impression that only us Toubabs were fooled into believing that there was a big chance it would be Saturday. I know that technically there wasn't any way to know until it happened, but now that it is tomorrow it makes me think that the Senegalese were all pretty sure that it would be, but just maintained a level of doubt to make sure they weren't wrong. Unfortunately, the taille basse that I ordered on Sunday wasn't quite ready when I went after school to go get it. Hopefully I will be able to run over to Liberte 1 (my friend Lecretia's neighborhood) in the morning to get my clothes to celebrate the festivities! If not, it isn't the end of the world, but I really don't have anything all that appropriate to wear. The saddest part of tomorrow being korite is that with my stomach in the shape it is, I really doubt I will be able to eat much. Korite is all about feasting after a month of fasting and I won't be able to partake! I suppose I should just be glad that I am getting healthy again and not push things too far, especially because all of the food here is very well spiced and cooked using a lot of oil. My family has been really good to me in my sick state. My host mother seems to have accepted that I cannot eat much and tonight the ladies prepared me some plain pasta to eat. This was very much appreciated because last night even eggs, bread, and coffee were a little bit too much for me to handle. The coffee here is one thing that I have been meaning to comment on. I never, ever drink coffee at home, but I drink it here because it is just what people have with breakfast and ndogo (the Wolof word for breaking the fast during Ramadan). The funny thing is that no one here drinks real coffee. They all drink Nescafe with 5 or 6 sugar cubes in it. I sort of like it (after all it is really just a bunch of sugar), but I think it makes Senegal look like a little Nestle colony. There are Nescafe signs EVERYWHERE! Plus, the milk products people use (powdered milk, unsweetened condensed milk, etc) are also Nestle. And then there's Nesquik and the normal things we see all over in the states. There is also a plethora of advertising for the various cell phone companies. My cell phone is Orange, but Tiga and Expresso are also popular choices. Orange advertises using these large square signs that are just orange with big white block letters. They are at the center of almost every roundabout in town. Tiga has little round blue signs all over the place and Expresso uses more traditional looking billboards featuring happy people prancing in the sunshine using their 3G capable cellular devices. Between cell phones and Nestle, every surface in Dakar has been made into an opportunity to sell things. Even the little boutiques (holes in the wall that sell basic food and sundry items located en masse in all the neighborhoods) have a ludicrous amount of advertising. This isn't any different than in the United States, but for some reason I find it a lot more noticeable here. Maybe it is the juxtaposition of all the flashy ads with the reality of the rainy season in Dakar, but they really stand out.  

Maangi tudd Maddie!

Last night a bunch of us toubabs went out together in the Fann neighborhood (which is really close to the WARC where we take classes). It was fun, although we definitely stood out as a walking Little America. We went out to an ice cream parlor that served crepes, ice cream, drinks and...hookah (yup how random). Apparently the man who owns the shop is Lebanese and so he decided that would be a great combination. I guess it works for him though because there were sort of a lot of people in and out of there even though it was a Friday and it is still Ramadan. The group sat around being lazy and after a couple hours (and too many mean looks from our waiter) we headed next door where one of the girls had heard some good music being played. We were certainly the only foreigners around, but the Senegalese ladies were pretty funny and they got a kick out of watching us dance like white people. It was a really good time, especially because every third song was either by Akon or was made specially for the World Cup. Super fun. After that I took a cab home with two other kids from the program. I definitely got yelled at by random men as I was walking through my neighborhood so I straight up booked it to my house and was really happy that the outside door was open so that I could wait inside while my brother came to let me in. I got home a little after 2, so needless to say I am tired today. We woke up and came into school (on a Saturday!) to take a tour of Dakar. The best part was probably going inside the African Renaissance Monument. The Monument itself is pretty controversial and just opened officially in April of this year. We took an elevator up to the 15th story (look it up online, the thing is gigantic and sort of gaudy) and ended up standing in the man's head, looking out over Dakar and the Atlantic. Very cool. It has been raining a lot the past couple days, which can get pretty frustrating, especially when you have to walk everywhere. So it was obviously raining during many parts of our tour today, but c'est la vie! I have quite a few blisters that developed yesterday walking to and from school in wet shoes. My host mom thought that I was severely injured because I bandanged my feet before going out last night. My french was just good enough to assure her that I am fine. The good news is that even though you get drenched really quickly the sun dries you out so fast that you hardly notice after awhile.

Oh and yesterday we started our Wolof class! Our professor's name is Sidy, although he told us that his students have often called him Q-tip. He was amazing and looks exactly like his nickname suggests. Even in our class of 20 (which will usually only be 10), he kept everyone involved and basically did stand-up comedy for three hours. Really fun. I can already tell that will be a highlight. The women in my house were much more open and willing to talk to me when I spoke Wolof (or at least tried) last night. I think it makes people laugh to hear me butcher their language, but I am happy to try even though it is sort of embarrassing. We learned how to properly greet people, which is a really big deal in Wolof culture and comes in handy a lot. The class also included lessons in basic identifications and question words. I think it will be sort of cool to come home with a reasonably large Wolof vocabulary. It doesn't sound at all like English or French, although it seems as though a lot of French words have filtered into the Wolof lexicon. Many people also speak a sort of creole of Wolof and French, making it confusing to listen to sometimes. Luckily, Sidy seems like an awesome teacher and I have faith that I will figure it out sometime.

We also have to start thinking pretty seriously about what type of internship we want to pursue during the second half of the semester. I still have little to no clear idea of what I want, so I will really have to put some thought into that. After being here, I wonder if I really want to head to rural Senegal, but I think I still might try because how could I resist such a unique experience? After all, it would be difficult to come here and visit the villages. It is hard enough to manage Dakar. I think a rural experience would be very fun, if challenging at points.

I have hope that someday soon Steve will be visiting me from his Peace Corps site in Joal! Korite (the end of Ramadan) is coming up this weekend, which will have both of us very busy, but I hope that I get a chance to visit him in the near future! Speaking of korite, I am trying to get a traditional Senegalese outfit made in time to don it for the feast! Everyone gets a new outfit, or at least brings out their very best clothes, for the end of Ramadan, so it is a great excuse to go out and figure out how getting clothes made works!

Tomorrow I will have a full day with my family, or at least not have any class, so I don't really know what that will hold. My family has been doing a ton of moving stuff, so I wonder if the day will be doing a lot of that. I guess I will find out!

We're moving...what>!>!>!?!!

My house v. 2.0

I take back all the information I offered about my house! When I got home from school today, my family had already begun the process of moving to a new house in a neighborhood called Mermoz. I was told at the beginning of my family stay that they would be moving, but I guess I missed the part where they said it would be today. I tried to ask my host brother on the first day, but he didn't seem to know when we would be going. Turns out, it was this evening. I got home from school, after walking for more than an hour down the muddy muddy Rue de Ouakam, and the house was pretty much empty! I stuffed everything in my backpack, Maman called a taxi, and we were off to the new house! This created much hilarity because I was entirely shocked and my mom couldn't think it was any funnier. She spent a lot of the cab ride talking about it. Actually, thinking about it now it is so funny. My face must have been hilarious. To make matters worse, though, I was an hour late from school because I waited for the rain to stop and apparently my mom never received the text I sent, so she was confused as to why I was taking so long! Good thing that people don't really seem to be in a hurry to do most things. Maman returned to the old house with Khadim to stay the night before they move everything else tomorrow, so I am in the new house with our maid, Moustapha, and his wife (whose name I can say, but couldn't ever imagine spelling without seeing it written down first- I think it may be spelled 'Jarra' but I really don't want to say that with any certainty). Moustapha made attaya (delicious as always. Minty and strong) and is still sitting and smoking his hookah like always. He is so friendly and always asks me how my day went. I feel a bit like a hermit when I am just around these three because I don't speak Wolof and they speak that all the time, but it is actually nice to just sit and think without feeling the need to join the conversation. The new house is very nice. It is similar to the last one: four bedrooms (of which I have only seen mine and my maman's...I have to use the bathroom that is attached to her room), two baths, a courtyard, sitting room, and kitchen. I like how open and connected the houses are around here. Everything flows nicely and it isn't a problem if things get wet or dirty because it is all tile and can be fixed in a second. It is nice that in this bathroom (as in the last one) the shower actually pours down on me. It is all cold water, but that is actually nice because it is so hot all the time. When you get out of the shower, the humidity attacks you and you never really dry off before you start sweating. That is alright by me though because lately it has actually been very nice. Even the most humid days feel like the scorchers we occasionally get in the midwest and WARC has air conditioning so the worst part has been the walking. I may be saying these things prematurely given that I have only had to deal with the heat a couple times, so I guess stay tuned to see if I change my mind about any of it soon!!! The only thing that is going poorly for me are my feet. My chacos have given me blisters for the first time, so I will have to switch to closed-toed shoes for awhile. Bummer since I love wearing my sandals, but when I am walking around all the time I guess I better keep it comfortable. It is super nice that this new house is only 30ish minutes from school, as compared to the hour and a little bit that it was before. I only had to do two days of that though so I should be glad!

To discuss food for awhile...

The food here is delicious! There is lots of chicken and fish, but I actually have had quite a bit of diversity chez moi. The meals are always served with some sort of grain/starch, usually rice, but french fries are offered to mix things up occasionally. This base is served with sauce, some vegetables, and meat. My family has served fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, and fruit as well. The watermelon was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten! So refreshing. Right now everyone's schedules are wonky because of Ramadan. People wake up really early and eat breakfast at 5:30 in the morning before returning to sleep. They fast all day, and then at 7:30 pm (19:30), they break fast (there's a space there). My family (and I think others) break fast with dates. Then they drink instant coffee with lots of sugar and (at least at my house) eat eggs on french bread with cheese spread. I think this varies a lot between houses, but it is pretty good. Then two-ish hours later my family eats a full dinner! Sometimes it is much later though. My first night, my family ate dinner at nearly 11:00 pm (23:00---yes that late) and last night I went to bed around 23:00 and they hadn't eaten yet! My family eats with their (right) hands out of a communal bowl. This is the traditional way of doing meals, although I hear a lot of people use a more individualistic approach with separate plates and forks as well. Whenever I eat with the family, they always make fun of me for not eating anything (“mais...tu n'a pas mangé!”). I think the teasing is less extreme in my house than some (I am looking at you Joseph Whitson!) as my family seems to understand that I am serious when I say I am full and usually only ask me a few times. Meals/food/eating is an arena where Senegalese hospitality is very apparent. Meal times are communal and everyone is always well cared for. 

My family

It is raining really hard, so most of us are staying sheltered at WARC. I decided to write about my family while I wait.

I live in the Ouakam neighborhood of Dakar. My house is very near to Ouakam beach, which is home to a mosque. From the beach there is a clear view of the African Renaissance Monument. My house is fairly modest, with three bedrooms and one full bathroom. There is a second, much smaller bathroom that borders the living room and kitchen. We also have a nice courtyard in the backyard where I spend most of my time at home. To be honest, I haven't even really seen the other bedrooms in the house and have slowly just figured out what is there without a tour. My bedroom is nice, with shelves for me to store my things and a mirrored dresser. The dresser is in use, but I can put some of my toiletries on top, which is nice because anything that doesn't fit in these two spaces must be kept in my backpack in between uses. Sometimes it is difficult to find what I need when I need it. My host mother is very generous and patient. She oftentimes has to repeat her questions and comments to be sure that I understand them. She was widowed close to two decades ago when her husband got into a car accident. Khadim, my host brother, is 25 and a student studying transportation logistics. He is what the Senegalese call a Baye Fall. Think rasta, but from Senegal. My host brother doesn't smoke though, which is pretty rare among the Baye Fall. He is passionate about religion and justice and often talks to me about his opinions on religious issues and politics. It is really interesting to hear him speak about Africa. I also live with a married couple and I honestly don't know if they are biologically related to my mother and brother. They are fun though. Moustafa sits every night smoking his hookah for hours while he makes attaya, sweet Senegalese tea that is poured over and over to create a foam on top. I would love to learn the process to make attaya, but we'll see if that comes next! My host brother also has a dog, named Hera, who is so sweet and unbelievably obedient. She is some sort of pit bull and really seems to love me. Whenever she is around, she doesn't leave me alone. I really like her a lot. Hopefully there will be pictures to come!

With any luck this rain will stop soon and I will be able to get home without taking a taxi.   

The first few days

I am finally here! Things have been pretty nuts here. Trying to speak French and adjust to life at my host family's house has been challenging. I am often sort of mute as I sit around trying to figure out exactly what is going on and trying really hard not to put my foot in my mouth. My family is really hospitable and it seems as though they have hosted students before. Luckily, most members of the household speak a bit of English. This comes in handy often. Usually my host mother will ask me something in French and she will occasionally follow it up with English to make sure that I actually know what is going on. School hasn't really started yet, so I don't know what it will be like, but so far all of the staff at WARC and the other students are great. We visited Goree Island yesterday, a major slave trading post. Thousands of people were trafficked through this port. It was humbling, and also very sad, to see the last place that most slaves saw before being sent to North America. Nowadays it is sort of an artisan commune. About 1800 people live there trying to sell crafts to tourists (mostly toubabs---foreigners). It is a UNESCO world heritage site. I wonder what it would be like to live on an island like that.  




My host family is really nice. I live with a host mother, two brothers and one of my brother's wives. Getting used to life in another family's home is interesting, but I have enjoyed it so far. I will write again soon about the family.