(note: there are photo issues)
Two steps off the plane and I was already in love with Senegal. At 5:30 in the morning, I was full of the kind of nervous excitement you might feel when you are about to take off on your first roller-coaster ride; you don’t know what it’s like but you’ve have heard a lot about it.
The smell of the air was the first thing I noticed; something so indescribable it’s probably a scent unique to Dakar; a combination of the ocean and warm, tropical things.
We got through the airport with minimal difficulty and met up with the coordinators who would be here for our stay: Joséphine, Awa and Wally. We took a bus to the guesthouse (where we dragged our luggage up four flights) and were able to sleep for a few hours before going to our first cultural orientation. It was on the rooftop terrace of a woman’s home (she does this every year for the new students and also helps throughout the program) and there was a huge tent to protect us from the sun, though we all still got our first dose of Senegalese heat that afternoon.
We all sat around in a big circle while the woman (whose name I either forgot or never learned) gave us a rundown on the major cultural differences we would encounter, leaving us a bit wide-eyed and nervous at the end. We more or less learned we would should no longer expect much privacy (as the Senegalese share everything), we should never bring food into our rooms or even home without having enough for everyone (“They will hate you,” she said…again, the sharing thing) and we should spend a lot of time with our families and make an effort to help out (I was looking forward to this part since I didn’t really experience it at all in France). Nothing and nobody is ever on time, as you spend so much time talking to people on your way anywhere, since you generally greet anyone you've ever made eye contact with. Therefore, the mindset of most Senegalese people is infinitely times more relaxed than Americans, who are usually always in a rush and so private that you rarely even look strangers in the eye on the street.
Afterward, we had a traditional Senegalese meal, which consisted of one huge plate of sticky brown rice, vegetables and fish (among other unidentifiable objects). The interesting part was that we could only use our right hand to eat (your left hand is associated with dirtier things, such as cleaning the more intimate parts of your body). Awkwardly I grabbed my first handful of rice and tried to squeeze it into a ball to make it into something edible (something Joséphine made look easy) and proceeded to get fishy rice all down my front and stuck on my face. It helped that nearly everyone else was having the same problem but I still felt like an idiot. Oh well. The food that did end up in my mouth was tasty and I successfully created several rice-balls in the end, even though my host-family ended up using utensils.
When we were finished we spent some time talking and trying out some new fruity drinks and tea. Apparently I was drinking juice made from the fruit of a baobab tree and tea that you normally spend 2-4 hours making and drinking. Both were amazing and unlike anything I’ve ever drank before. I'm also thrilled with all the students in the program. Everyone has an incredible personality and we all get along really well, as though we've known each other for years.
I’m constantly noticing huge differences between my time in France and here, and I’m very glad that I was able to study there before coming here. I didn’t have the uncomfortable and difficult language transition here, since I learned how to more or less say anything I wanted to in French by the end of that trip, and now I just need to use this one to become fluent. And I’m realizing now that I learned the very valuable skill of how to transition into a different lifestyle more gracefully, because I haven’t struggled as much with that, or at all really, with this trip. I think I’ll be able to spend more time speaking to my host-family and the Senegalese friends I’ve already made here rather than focusing so much on the other challenges I learned how to overcome. Indeed it feels like there was no transition period at all and that I feel at home and very happy here.
But back to my first day (which felt like three squashed into one). After lunch, we all went to a Senegalese wrestling match. It was complete chaos around and inside the stadium. When we finally got inside, we were lucky enough to be seated in the shade, got a few fruity sodas and then began the three-hour-long extravaganza that included approximately three minutes total of wrestling. That’s not to say there wasn’t always something to watch: there were a dozen or so men in matching shirts (advertising something or another) who I don’t think stopped dancing the entire time, all lead by a tiny 3- or 4-year-old in the front; there were two separate areas of men drumming, sometimes playing separately and other times together; there was a group of four women who I believe didn’t stop repeating the same two phrases of some sort of song the full three hours, getting progressively louder and louder until several people around me had their fingers jammed in their ears with grimaces on their faces. An hour into the spectacle, four heavily painted men dressed in the wildest, brightest tribal gear you’ve ever seen came rolling, jumping and dancing out of nowhere and seemed really out of place the whole time, yet fit in with the plethora of dancing and singing people.
All the while it wasn’t uncommon for your neighbor to comment on the minute-long match you just missed because your eyes were elsewhere and somehow didn’t notice the two men, who finally stopped sprinting the lengths of the field, finally meet in the sandy arena to wrestle.
I was so confused afterward as to why there was such little wrestling and so much else going on, until Chris, a returnee from last year’s program, explained to me that it’s more about the cultural aspects (singing, dancing, story-telling) than about the actual wrestling itself. That would have been good to know beforehand so I wouldn’t have been in a constant state of anticipation, forever waiting for “la lutte” to begin.
Regardless, I really enjoyed myself and am happy to have had the opportunity to go. It was an interesting first day in Senegal to say the least.
January 6th 2009 9:15 pm
With the goats bleating so loudly outside my window that I can barely hear myself think, I have just experienced another day where 95% of the events were completely new and foreign.
Yesterday we took a tour of Dakar. We drove our bus through the mind-blowingly crazy traffic and stopped several times so we could explore and/or listen to Waly explain some landmark or another’s historical significance.
It was an incredible day. I got an excellent feel for the city and learned about some major aspects of Senegalese history and culture.
My favorite visit by far was when we went to the furthest point south in Dakar and got out to explore. There were huge cliffs of all varying sorts of brown, and when you looked down you were blinded by the white waves crashing into the cliffs from every side. When you looked out you saw the ocean never ending and felt quite at peace with the world.
We quickly discovered the rickety steps that led way, way down to the bottom and were promptly told by Waly that it was too dangerous to go down. Two minutes later we were gripping the railing and hopping over broken steps thanks to Awa, who decided it wasn’t that bad, so down we went.
It was beyond worth it. We were giddy like little kids who got to do something they’re normally forbidden from. We hopped clumsily from rock to rock, occasionally slipping on some algae and constantly snapping pictures of each other while enjoying the fantastic view and ocean spray, until it turned into a huge wave and nearly swept a few of us away. We laughed it off but Waly decided it was time to go, and we didn’t argue.
Afterward, we drove up to the highest point in Dakar and then climbed to the top of the lighthouse that was on top of it. The stairs eventually got so close together it was more like a ladder, but worth the view when you got to see all of Dakar from the top.
But by far my favorite moment of the day was when we were returning to the guesthouse for the night and Awa, Waly and Joséphine all insisted we sing an American song (since they have been singing non-stop Senegalese songs) and the best we could come up with was “I want it that way” by the Backstreet Boys. I will never forget that incredibly awesome moment where I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard because of the 12 Americans singing the horribly cheesy, poppy boy-band song in West Africa to several Senegalese people who danced right along with it.
Now, I’m sprawled on my stomach listening to a dozen new sounds on my new bed in my new home. The voices of the family speaking next door seem as though in my bedroom, my teeny host-brothers are still arguing with their mother to have me come out and watch cartoons with them, and all I can think about is how on earth am I going to sleep tonight.
But I haven’t said much about today yet except for the noises I’ve heard at the end of it. This morning we all packed up at the guesthouse because we were meeting our host-families. We had breakfast at WARC (The West African Research Center, where all of my classes will be) and it was as delicious as the morning before, consisting of an omelet with onions (and yet tasting as differently as possible from an “American” omelet), some baguette and butter, and some peachy orange juice.
When we were finished, we piled once more onto our bus ready to meet our host families, and my stomach filled with a balloon-sized excited bubble that was sadly deflated when there was nobody at my house except the maid, who speaks neither French nor English. Through some awkward and uncomfortable gestures mixed with the 10 phrases she does know of English, we somehow communicated that even though I wasn’t hungry she was going to make me a huge plate of rice and fish. It wasn’t going exactly as I hoped.
I tried to eat as much as I could so that I wouldn’t end with a plate that said “I’m a sassy American who eats like a bird and thinks fish are smelly” but concluded that no matter how much I ate she was going to look at me the way she did that said, “You’re annoying and I don’t want you here.” I opted to go for a walk.
Best idea I’ve had since I arrived. I enjoyed myself immensely as I met about a dozen new people over the next two hours without going a block from my home. I would sit down on a box or I just stood on the sidewalk while I talked to people. It felt so good to realize how much better my French is here and that I’ll actually be able to show my personality instead of just always struggling with verb tenses and vocabulary (though I still do, let’s be honest).
I didn’t want my host-family to come back without me there, so I eventually went back. It was still just Aisstou and she asked me if I would come with her to pick of Yves and Louis-Albert, my host-brothers. For lack or anything better to do (and wanting to meet them) we hopped in a taxi that seemed as though it may fall apart any minute and away we went.
It was their grandparent’s house we picked them up from, and they were so excited to meet me. It was about the shyest I’d ever seem them, I later learned. Before we even left the building they had already claimed a hand apiece. I walked with them across the road and Yves sat on my lap in the taxi.
I think I grew a little on Aisstou too, because when I attempted to speak the little Wolof that I know (the other language spoken more than French) she seemed to warm up and laughed when I butchered a simple greeting. Maybe it won’t be so bad.
I met my host-parents when I got back, and both were friendly enough, though I was surprised at how different they seemed than nearly everyone else I had met. They’re just a little more quiet and reserved really, everyone else I had met gets right up in your business two seconds after meeting them, in a good way. I don’t know if it’s because they’re Catholic (most are Muslim here) but it was a little jarring since it almost felt like they didn’t care for me being there, though I later learned from my host-cousin that’s not the case, they’re just different. Oh, and I have a third host-brother on the way. Three months or so and I won’t be sleeping for the last few weeks I’m here. Oh well, I don’t sleep very well right now as it is.
January 8th 2009
Though they have their adorable brotherly moments, such as:
Yves and Louis-Albert are definitely a handful. As soon as they come home until they go to sleep they are go go go go go…high energy, loud voices, always grabbing me to come and play, coming in and out of my room, never leaving me alone. I think it will calm down in time when they realize I’m not going anywhere for a while, but it can be so overwhelming when all you want to do is study or read or simply have a moment to yourself. I woke up this morning to Louis-Albert in my face, and even though the smile was adorable, I really do enjoy sleeping. To say the least, I’ve learned at least five or six new ways to say “don’t do that, get off, don’t touch that,” etc. very quickly. They don’t always listen.
There is so much to learn and get used to; I hardly know where to start. It’s overwhelming having to change your lifestyle completely and so abruptly, especially when it’s so very different than your own. I have my moments, but I’m actually really surprised with myself with how well I’ve adjusted. I really am so happy to be here.
January 9th 2009
What an awesome, awesome day.
Even though I had to get up early to take a French placement test I’m already excused from, I didn’t mind in the slightest because I got to see everyone and spend nearly the whole day with them.
We spent a while at WARC on the internet for the first time, and I was overwhelmed with a full inbox and turtle-speed internet, but I was happy to have even the slightest connection to my family and friends back home.
We don’t start our classes until the 19th but we did have our first Wolof class, which was fantastic. It’s completely different than English or French, but because I’ve already gone through the process of learning another language, I found that I was comprehending the way things work in Wolof much more easily than if I had never learned French, but that’s not to say it wasn’t still really difficult. The days of French 101 are so far behind me I didn’t even realize I had forgotten how hard it is to learn a new language. But I think taking Wolof is going to be such a good experience for me if only to teach me what that process feels like again, which will hopefully better enable me to teach English in the future. Knowing what your students are going through can only be a plus.
After class, Sarah, Meera and I walked home. They live in the same home and I live about 10 minutes from them, and it’s about an hour-long walk back, which actually seems like it will be one of my favorite times of the day. We’re all free-spirited, easy-going people and get along wonderfully. That combined with the sunset gave me happy bubbles galore.
The best part was when we got back to their place (where I actually spend more time than at my own home) and we had a conversation with some relative of a relative that covered everything from Adam and Eve to your Adam’s apple (literally) while we sipped the beers we couldn’t politely refuse.
I love it here.
January 11th 2009
How can it keep getting better?
Even though we were late in meeting our group at WARC due to Sarah and Meera’s host-mother’s insistence that we take a bus (which took about the same amount of time as walking) we set off once again in our big group bus, this time to a monastery.
The ride itself was enjoyable (albeit long- was it two hours?) because once we were out of Dakar we actually got to see GREEN things, and overall some pretty awesome African scenery. More palm and baobab trees than you can imagine.
Once we got there, we actually attended one of their masses first. It was really long, yet somehow exactly the same as all the masses I’ve ever gone to. The only differences included the 30 or so monks present, the fact that it was in French, and that African drums and the coura replaced the organ. The décor was also a bit different, but that’s to be expected.
After the service, a monk gave us a tour of the grounds, which is normally forbidden to women. It was a very beautiful and peaceful place; the comparison between it and Dakar is like comparing two different countries on different ends of the world. It was so quiet, you could actually hear yourself think, as well as the sounds of nature that get drowned out in the city.
We walked the red sandy paths surrounded by all kinds of trees; baobab, grapefruit, mango, and dozens of others whose names I don’t know or remember. The monk showed us their simple homes, the gardens they tend and live off of, the hen house, the pigs:
and the bulls, the small, shed-like building where they build the couras, and the soccer and basketball areas where they get to play once a week. Overall, it was a very tranquil place.
Afterward, we went to Lac Rose (Pink Lake) where the salt concentration is so high that it’s…well, pink. There were mounds of salty foam on the shore surrounding boats as colorful as a bag of faded Skittles (ha), and the fiercest vendors you’ve ever met. Coming at you in every direction with baskets full of souvenirs on their heads, they literally push bracelets on your wrists, force dolls or paintings in your hands, tell you they’re gifts, only to walk away and come back within two minutes demanding that you pay for the gift, take a picture of their baby and send it to them or demand marriage. It was madness. We were all scared and running onto the bus at the end. It was actually quite hilarious.
From there we drove a short distance to some sand dunes. College students transformed into children as we all kicked off our sandals and gleefully ran up the first hills without really realizing we’d be exhausted after 10 steps. But we trudged along and made it to the top and then to a spot where Waly set down his drum and began to play. Over the next half hour we were each pulled into the circle to make fools of ourselves and dance clumsily in the sand.
Afterward, we got some pictures with a few random camels before we left. The ride back was the most fun I had on the trip, yet all we did was talk and joke non-stop for two hours. I really can’t say enough good things about the people on this trip and how happy I am that they’re here.
And it's just the beginning!
