Friday, February 27, 2009

#5 Who needs coffee when you can just take a cold shower?

Ndank ndank mooy japp golo ci naay.

Slowly, slowly, one catches the monkey in the bush.

Petit à petit l'oiseau fait son nid.

Little by little, the bird builds his nest.

Wolof and French sayings that describe my life very well here in Senegal. Both of them remind me that things take time and that nothing worthwhile and lasting comes quickly. Time time time. All it takes, all you need, right? But it's going by faster than it ever has for me.

I've been here almost two months, and yet I find myself facing new situations every single day that can and do completely change the experience I'm having here. All it takes is meeting one new person, simply taking the time to try and get to know someone, or even taking one wrong turn where you end up going on an accidental adventure...and it can cause a ripple affect that could add enormously to everything you're already doing or greatly change it. That's why I love it here; the small decisions you make every day here can cause such drastically different outcomes that I wake up every day as though it were my first here. I never get tired of or used to anything, except maybe the 3-hour-long lectures.

When I met Anne-Marie, for example, I thought we would meet maybe once a week for a short English lesson and not much more, but she has become not only my best friend in Senegal, but one of the best friends I've ever had. The lessons are more like 2-3 times a week and for up to 2 hours at a time, and they're more like really good conversations that we slip a little English into. She has to be one of the most genuine, sweet, good-natured and funny people I've ever met, and my cheeks usually hurt with laughter within the first 5 minutes of seeing her.

This past weekend she, Leah and I went to H.L.M.- a market where we searched for the perfect cloth for nearly 4 hours, and got it quite literally in the last 5 minutes as all the shops were closing. I had such a perfect idea of what I wanted in my mind that it made it seem like mission impossible, but Anne-Marie was relentless in the search- moreso than I was- and determined to make me happy by the end of the day, though I don't know if I've ever enjoyed one so much. Anyone else would have thrown their hands up into the air at least a dozen times by that point, but she never got grouchy or frustrated or gave up (everything I usually feel and do when I shop) rather, she kept pulling me along by the hand, weaving in and out of the endless stalls, as though it were her only job in life to find me the perfect material. And while I didn't expect her to, she bargained for everything for me, getting the price to less than half of what each vendor started with, and I realized I would have gotten very ripped off had I not had her.

I also got material for a boubou (just some simple, white cloth) and so the next day we took it all to a tailor. After getting lost on the way to Anne-Marie's, I was blind-sided by a hug when I accidently stumbled into the right direction into her. She laughed and laughed at my atrocious direction abilities and I couldn't help but smile, nobody had ever laughed at me in a more genuine way. She took my hand and off we set for the tailer.

Another thing I love. While you never see any kind of public affection between couples, you will see hand holding all day long between men and men and women and women. It's not a full-out grasp, but a loose little friendly hold, that I was a admittedly a little uncomfortable with at first, but now it's something that makes my already too-big smile stretch even further up to my ears.

We teased each other non-stop until we were at the tailors, where I picked out what I wanted in magazines and got measured for the first time ever for clothes! I was so giddy, and Anne-Marie was amused by me as usual, as I get excited about everything that is normal and everyday-life things to her. Afterward I sat on the cooshy green foam-seat while she bargained him down from about $35 for the two to about $15. Wow. That's like, one pant leg back home.


Afterward, we both had the whole day free so I went to visit her home and meet some family. If I ever thought it was hectic at my place with two little boys running around, it was nothing in comparison to the 4 or 5 little kids all under the age of 4 that sped by me in a blur of colors as I tried to cross the courtyard, while almost tripping over a chicken (or a very small fluffy child). She showed me her room that she shares with 3 other people, and the mat she sleeps on. She prefers it to the bed, which hurts her back, and we laughed as I told her it was sort of the opposite for me.

Her aunt was in the room when we got there (who also works at WARC) and we spent the next 30 minutes looking at a pile of old pictures where Anne-Marie looked like a model in just about every one, and her aunt and I teased her endlessly about how many ex's she had (even though there were only two- they kept appearing in the pictures and I'd pretend they were all different).

Oh yea, Anne-Marie got engaged on Valentine's Day. It's not my business to blog all the details on the internet, but I will say that we disagree about why she's getting married, as she is ultimately just settling and I tell her she should try the love part. Regardless, after the photo adventure we went to her financée's place and he was as nice as she described, and very hospitable. After talking for a bit we somehow ended up watching a pretty horrible 90's American film- still don't know what it's called- but it was in English, and despite my protests, they wanted to watch it, so we did. It was a random kind of afternoon but I enjoyed myself nonetheless.

And then, I still get to see her every day at WARC, where I bug her and all the other women who work there all day long, though I think they enjoy the interruptions- usually. I've also started talking a lot more with all the other women there, who all love to comment on the progress of my butons and laugh and clap while I show them what I learned in my African Music and Dance class. Another good lesson I've learned- if you want someone to warm up to you, look and sound a bit like an idiot, and it'll be appreciated (caution: context is probably important).

And can I just add that my adventure with Gilda yesterday was one of the best moments I've ever had? There is a huge trampoline on the coast that we pass all the time, and out of the blue we decided to go, and for one dollar we got to jump and yell and fall into the nets as we tried to look over the ocean and giggled and screamed until we were out of breath.

And now another week has passed before I could even grasp that it was Monday. While it always leaves me feeling uneasy to see time go by so fast, it doesn't change the fact that you have to catch the monkey slowly, you know?

Thursday, February 19, 2009

#4 My first internship

“And now, Kah-tee, if you could go ahead and just say a few words…”

I feel my eyes go into deer-in-headlights mode as I hear Professor Ngom say this, stupidly realizing that of course I was probably going to have to introduce myself, why did it take until this moment to realize it?

I stand up from my chair and look disbelievingly at the overcrowded classroom that would probably fit 100 comfortably: every single row is filled past capacity, students are sitting in the aisles, some are standing at the back of the classroom and in the doorway, others are sitting against the wall and on the large podium, where you can’t even see the blackboard, and yes, those are students outside, looking through the window, pen and paper at the ready to take notes.

As I introduce myself, I can feel the skin about to melt off my face and look back into the 250 sets of eyes focused on me. “Hello…um…well I’m Katie…uh…” and then I nervously launch into the shpeal of where you’re from and what you’re studying; “I’m a French major getting my teaching certification and TESOL minor- that stands for Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages- and an African Studies Specialization…” I speak slowly, trying to annunciate as they all look disbelieving, as though there is no way this person just walked into their English Comprehension class, and at the specialization, everyone bursts into a round of applause, hooting and hollering until the Professor actually has to rap his knuckles on the table to settle them all down.

At this point, the professor saves me from having to say any more as he says, “Yes yes we are all excited and lucky to have her here, it’s a great opportunity to have a native speaker…”

It’s my first day of my internship as a teaching assistant to Professor Ngom in his English Comprehension class. It’s two hours long and is divided into listening and written portions. During the first part, a text is read several times and they are given the questions before the last reading. Afterward, they discuss the answers and go off on tangents to make sure the reading is well understood. Afterward, they normally work on translation and writing about specific topics, but today was a little different.

After my introduction, Professor Ngom got everyone settled down and to work. He and I read the reading two times each (one more than usual because I have a much different accent) and I could have sworn that the words were trying to jump off the page; I could hear my voice shaking and felt bad to make it any more difficult to understand, but you try reading in front of that kind of crowd!

Once the question portion was over with is when I started doing most of the talking. Since it’s a comprehension class, Professor Ngom wants them to get used to a native speaker’s accent, since they will have three different people reading for their exams in July. I didn’t know this was going to happen, but it turned out to be one of my favorite things done so far in Senegal.

“And now,” said the professor, “you may all ask Katie questions about her culture and the United States, but nothing personal,” and at this he glanced sternly around the room, trying to make eye contact with as many men as possible, knowing only too well their first question- was I married? You could actually see the disappointment on some faces, while others laughed.

There’s that saying, “Most of us are not aware we have a culture until we step outside of it,” but today I experienced this at another level. I was so nervous that I wouldn’t know the answer to a question, but every single one was about something that I just know simply because of where I was born and how I was raised- i.e. my “culture.” Most of it were things you never really even think or talk about, but for 45 minutes straight, people didn’t stop raising their hands to ask about these things as though nothing else could be as interesting.

“Can you really have 3 or 4 jobs at once and make a lot of money? How do find Senegal? What are the biggest differences between American and Senegalese women? Did you vote for Barack Obama? Why did you come here instead of someplace else? How does the education system in the US differ from here? Do you have a car…?”

I found myself only too happy to explain and debunk a plethora of stereotypes, as well as ask them what other stereotypes they had, and laughed as I explained, “No, not everybody walks around with their hands in their pockets not looking at anyone.” It was also interesting to realize that many of them look at America in the same way many Americans look at Africa- that it is one big state, as many think Africa is one big country- but I could no more speak on behalf or generalize all of America than someone from Africa trying to do the same. We talked about how the media enforces these things, and by the end I felt like I was sitting in a Starbucks having a great conversation with my closest 250 friends.

It was so interesting to see their faces and reactions to my explanations of things like wealth and jobs, that maybe we make more, but the cost of living is also much more as well, and that you can’t really get by easily without a car- an expense many don’t have here. Four of the 250 students had laptops, and their eyes were wide with shock when I told them it’s a requirement to own one to go to where I go to school. I explained about how many people- myself included- need to take out loans to go to school, and they were visibly distressed when I told them how much school costs and how you pay it back over the years, but how it’s a good investment because it allows you for a better career. Some were really surprised to know that there is indeed poverty and unemployment in the US, and I genuinely wondered how many minds I changed of some who were interested in living and working there because they thought it was so easy to make money.

I wanted it to keep going, but the professor finally took the final question- “What do you think about Barack Obama’s opinion on gun control?”

“And I think that's where we'll stop today,” said the professor with a frown. I laughed.

I love it here.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

#3 Why I love Senegal

Today is a perfect example of why I absolutely love Senegal (not including early this morning, which consisted of a mosquito safari from 3-4am).

You might think you could get used to all the strange cultural differences and random, unexplained events in Dakar, but you’re mostly wrong. During our class break, I went to my usual fruit stand to get some bananas and chat with Alpha a bit. As I bought my fruit, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask him if he knew where I could get a mosquito net. Well, of course I should have known he’d have one right behind the crate of pineapples, why not? He pulled it out and gave it to me, free of charge (I tried to pay). I walked away confused and unable to figure out why he would try to overcharge me 40 cents one day and give me a free grapefruit when I corrected him and a free mosquito net the next, when I only spent 40 cents. I laughed the whole way back as I compared the American reward system of customer loyalty vs. the Senegalese way.

Another reason why I love Senegal is the fact that everything is within walking distance. Today for example, I walked an hour to school, 5 minutes from there to my fruit stand, 10 minutes from there to the Tigo shop (needed some TP), 20 minutes from there to UCAD (where I bought my omelet sandwich), 10 minutes back to WARC, and finally another hour home. All the while I’m either surrounded by palm trees or the ocean, but let’s be honest, there’s also unlimited piles of garbage and sand. Gotta take the good with the bad.

Speaking of that omelet sandwich, another fine example of my love of this country (more than the fact that it’s delicious). When one of the two women who runs the little stand saw me, her face lit up, she dropped what she was doing and came over to hold my hand and proceeded to ask how I was and, in a worrying voice, if the sun was what was giving me all those boutons (acne). I laughed, no longer put out by this kind of statement, and reassured her that it was pretty normal and that I was fine. Relieved, she patted me on the pack and asked if I was married yet. Nope, not quite ready, I told her. A gentleman nearby eating his sandwich politely offered his hand, and once again, a proposal before noon and it doesn’t even faze me. He told me he’d wait when I said I was too busy.

Afterward, I took my three beignets wrapped in their usual newspaper and headed back to WARC. Ba suba! I yelled cheerily as I left, evoking giggles from all surrounding. They love it when Toubabs (in general, white/non-Senegalese people) speak Wolof.

I love these small relationships with everyone I come into contact with on a regular basis. I look forward to the simplest things, like going to buy fruit or lunch and leaving with a smile that stays with me the whole day.

I’ve also started talking more to one of the women who work at the small “restaurant” at WARC, Anne-Marie. I was complaining how hard the last Wolof class was and half-jokingly made a deal with her that if she taught me Wolof, I’d teach her English. She walked right up to me to hold out her hand to shake on it, and I gladly returned the shake, though not really knowing if it was serious or not.

The next day, an hour and 40 minutes flew by as we sat at a table at WARC (after she had gotten off work and my class had ended) and I still didn’t want to leave (needed to though, if I wanted to get back before dark). It had forgotten my Wolof notebook, but it worked out perfectly in that I speak so much French trying to teach her English that it’s like we’re both getting lessons at the same time. It was so much fun, she caught on to everything so fast and with each new expression I taught her, we’d go off on some cultural tangent and talk for a while before going back to the material. She wants to learn English because she wants to work in a “real” restaurant one day, because most of them require that you speak English. When this happens, she’s going to try to go back to school. She had to drop out early when she was younger because she got so sick that she had to go to The Gambia for treatment and medicine and was there for a year and half. I feel good that I can help her in some way achieving her goals, and in return, I’ll speak better French. But more than anything, I can tell she’s going to become a great friend. She’s already offered to come with me to get some Senegalese clothing made (if you don’t have a Senegalese person go with you you get really ripped off I guess). I'm so excited!

And now, Yves is curled up in my lap, (j’ai froid, he says- I’m cold), I’m typing with one hand, and Louis-Albert is watching the Simpsons in French. I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

#2 A Typical Monday

4:30am. Wake up to the call of prayer. The mosque is a stone’s throw from my window, so my room is filled with the buzzing voice through old loudspeakers as I grumble and roll over a few times before it stops and I promptly fall back asleep.

6:30 Begin the music of the sheep and goats.

7:00 Whoevers turn it is to wake up crying, starts about now (at an alarmingly high pitch for such small boys.) This finally gets me out of bed. Don’t bother with an alarm clock anymore.

7:05 I pull out my bench and set it at the little table set up with our breakfast usuals by Aisstou. Around this time, the brother that wasn’t crying is running back inside with the baguettes that he bought from the shop in front of our house. I spread on my cheese, and with a slight sigh, I sip on my Nescafé (that is starting to grow on me) though I know I only drink it out of habit. The goats wake me up more effectively than this liquid that pretends to be coffee.

You might not think so, but I’m usually in a really good mood at this point. It’s all the little things- from my giddiness at using sugar cubes to watching the cats fight (literally) right in our courtyard. Even when Yves puts his tiny foot on my knee to tie his shoes, I can’t help but love being a big sister…for the moment.

Since I shower at night, my hair is a wild mess in the morning, usually making a statement by stubbornly pointing up and over in one direction. I’ve solved this problem by learning how to French braid my hair (I finally did it Aunt Monique!) which disguises the fact that my hair is trying to escape my head.

8:00-9:00 I'm out the door and start my hour walk south to school. I enjoy watching Dakar wake up; vendors putting fruit on display, people sweeping in front of their houses, taxis honking like it's their only job, people waiting for buses to go to work, parents holding their children's hand as they walk to school, the soccer game that's already started in the sand lot, the next team jogging to warm up for the next game...

9:02 With sweat marks where my backpack straps were (despite the chilly morning) I sit down with the other students outside in the small courtyard area while others order Nescafé (there's a small sort of restraunt at WARC) since we all know it'll probably be another 10 minutes before class starts anyway. We trade weekend stories and discuss the latest "cultural moments" we've encountered recently, which usually have to do with the girls getting proposals, some new body part of an animal being ingested (usually by accident or unknowingly) or just some new, perhaps strange-to-us behavior that we love to analyze.

9:15-12:00 Today is African Literature. We're reading Le Monde S'Effondre (Things Fall Apart) and even though it's been a bit of a struggle for me, there's a lively debate in class today. I listen and observe, but I'm already thinking about the break, when I'll go to my favorite fruit vendor (with the ocean in view just behind it- so hard to go back to class after that) and buy my usual 2 bananas and 6 mandarin, always costing 500 cfa (about a dollar). One banana and three mandarins for my between breakfast and lunch snack, and the same for between lunch and dinner. Today he tried to charge me a little more for no reason, and when I corrected him he shrugged and gave me a free grapefruit for tes études (your studies) and after I paid my normal price, I chatted with a guy on a bench for a while before heading back. I don't really understand what just happened but you get by a lot easier here when you stop trying to understand all the random things that go on here.

12:01 Freedom! Now I have the whole rest of the day!

I'm starving at this point so for lunch I go to UCAD (another university about 15 minutes away where I'm taking a translation class). There are two women who make and sell delicious omelet sandwiches for only 350 cfa, and I usually add the 3 beignets (dougnuts) or fatiah (deep fried dough with this fishy moosh in it- sounds strange but it's delightful) for another 100, and I have an incredible lunch for less than a dollar. I always bring my own water, so on any given day I only spend $2 on food, and that's after I buy my few packets of peanuts on the way home.

However, depending on when you get there, it can be a pretty intense process to get your lunch. Usually there are 6 or so students all cramped together trying to order while the doorway and stairs to the left is a constant stream of people going in and out. The women never stop peeling potatoes and frying them up, the omelets are practically cooked as soon as they hit the pan, and the whole time your mouth is watering because it smells like heaven in a baguette.

Meanwhile, the girl behind me fingers my braids with a smile and tells me my hair is joli (pretty) and is it natural?

I finally get my sandwich and fatiah, and this time it's wrapped in an article about a neurological French scientist or something. I sit down on the ledge just on the other side of the area where the food is made and try not to inhale my sandwich as I take a look at my free reading material that also shelters my sandwich.

Just around the time I've given up on Dr. Too-many-scientific-terms, a student from UCAD has sat down next to me to ask me the same round of questions; Who are you? Do you study here? Where are you from? Can I have your number? Will you teach me English? Do you like Senegal...etc.

I really enjoy these conversations, as I think they are what help improve my French the most. The questions about numbers and similar are more or less just something Senegalese guys do and not at all meant in the same way as guys in America would mean it. As soon as I explain no and why, they're already asking another question and (usually) no offense is taken.

13:00-18:00 With a content tummy, I walk back to WARC to read, use the internet and more or less hang out with everyone until we leave. Sometimes I'll go for a walk along La Corniche, the road that follows the coast, or leave with Sarah and Meera to hang out at their house for a while, since they have a little shop in front where we hang out all the time. Sometimes I'll stop at Manou's house (my host-cousin and one of my best friends on this trip) to just talk for a bit and then he'll walk me to Sarah and Meera's, where we'll also stop to chat for a while.

That's one of my favorite parts about Senegal; everyone spends so much time talking with their friends, family, vendors, etc. and there is rarely a rush. I struggled with this for some time since I would start to feel anxious after a while, feeling like I should be doing more "productive" things since I'm used to a much faster-paced lifestyle, but what I've realized is that what makes me happiest is when I just let that feeling go and enjoy the company I'm with, ask about their family, discuss and debate ideas, etc. because it's probably the most productive thing you can do.

It's strange to consider the idea that I used to measure productivity by the amount of homework or reading I got done, by how many tasks or errands I finished, by how many hours I worked or volunteered. That's not to say these things aren't productive, I still feel great when I accomplish and do things like that, but I'm never as happy as I am when I simply spend time talking with people and learning about them. I'm trying to listen more than talk on this trip, though I still do my fair share of talking.

I don't think my stress level has ever been so low.

21:30 And now, as I end my day typing this all next to Yves (who is apparently nursing his teddy bear?) and answering Louis-Albert’s endless questions (Tu fais quoi? – What are you doing?) I know that I’m probably going to be in bed again before 10, as I’m exhausted just like every other day.

And now Louis-Albert has stolen the teddy bear and the poor thing’s head is stuck under his shirt; C’est moi qui est la maman! (I’m the mommy!) And so begins another round of screaming.

The teddy bear has just been flung across the room!

Live from Dakar,
Katie