In Senegal, that is (or at least in my Wolof class). The daughter of the Islamic great prophet Muhammed is my Turandoo (wolof for homonym), a name given to me by none other than a Senegalese street vendor. While visiting Toubab Dialow with other students, where we not only witnessed beautiful art and architecture but also the local flavor of reggae music and dance, I was bestowed with this esteemed Senegalese name. It was after I bartered "like a true Senegalese woman" that the shoe vendor sold me my shoes at half-price and with a laugh called me Fatumata.
Bartering for anything in Senegal is almost mandatory. Not only for a good price (relatively) but also for earning respect from those with whom you interact. If I wish to lessen my status as a toubab, it is necessary that I not accept the first price given to me for an object. However, there is also a fine line between playing the game and becoming a rude or snooty client. The product is as it is, and to expect it to be better is often times more condemning than to pay too much for this object. So while I may not want to overpay, I must make sure that I do not inherently insist through my bargaining does not demean their product.
Beyond learning the street lingo, I am learning how to redo how I have lived up until this point. My maids make it the most apparent: I am a baby. When I arrived, my sister Yacine took care of me, making sure that I knew how to get in the house at night , making sure I got some fish and carrots from the bowl at each meal, translating Wolof in French, and showing me where to get extra water on the days that I need to wash my hair. However, Yacine went for 2 weeks, so this entire past week, I've found a bit more independence because I was no longer able to be Yacine's "nene" (baby in Wolof), as my maids (nDee and Sanaba) so love to call me.
When I'm at school, I live in a house with other college students. We have our own rules and our own keys. When I'm at my parents' house, I inform them of my whereabouts and use a key to let myself in at night. physically leaving the house when I am not going and coming from school in Senegal, has proven to be a very sticky situation. First off, it's really only "normal" for men to go and come from the house a lot, while women are more apt (and expected more) to stay home during the day. While many women here love to stay home (for it shows their lack of need for extra money for the household), after some time my feet get antsy. My room is comfortable and my family is a hoot, but sometimes I just like to take walks. Also, in the States, we entertain friends at home for a small amount of time followed by a mutual enjoyment of some activity outside of the home (i.e. a movie, an ice cream, a concert, etc). I definitely have had my fair share of friends over to meet the family. Every week, the Ouakam girls get together at my house to have tea, eat some fruitbread, and chat about our week. The first night that this happened, we stayed up until atlas 1 AM, laughing until we cried. The next morning my brother Alboury asked if I had some friends over the night before. I cautiously replied yes, thinking that I was about to get a stern talking-to about our "rowdy" behavior. But, to my surprise when I said yes, he started giggling (yes, the man was giggling) and with a huge smile reassured me that he was not only ok with it but that the amount of laughter was a good sign of the family's good fortune to have so many happy people within this house.
While my friends usually grace the house at later hours, our house consistently hosts visitors throughout the day, including sporadic people joining our bowls. I can't believe I haven't written about the food here yet! (Or if I have just ignore my all-too-common forgetfulness, please.) So much of Senegalese society is focused around the preparation and eating of food. So I've already kind of delved into the process of Ataya, but the concept of eating around the bowl is key one's existence in many eastern cultures. Remember the concepts of mbokk (the people with which you share) and njaboot (all the people that you literally or figuratively "carry" on your back)? Well, the concept of eating around the bowl flows out of this and into this, where teranga is the guiding the concept for relationships between people. If you remember the first "rule" from Zeus to the Greeks, one has an obligation to to protect those who ask for protection. Similarly, the Senegalese have the concept of teer, which means "to come ashore." When a person comes to a new shore, they are in need of someone to protect them and guide them in this foreign place. Teranga is based on the belief that a mother who assists a foreigner or visitor ensures that her children will never find themselves in a desperate situation away from home without help or support.
Living Teranga shows your understanding of everyone's dependance on one another; people have an obligation to each other. Your mbokk is the unit within which you practice teranga, but this mbokk is basically limitless. At the start of each day (about 6 AM as I found out this morning when I heard the bread being delivered for our petit-dejeuner) the food for that day is brought in the house and prepared by our cook Ndee (pronounced with like "Day" but with a slight 'n' rolling off the tongue with the 'd'). Therefore, what we have that morning is what we will work with at the end of the day, no matter if we have 1 visitor or 10. As well, each family sets aside what is called a boolu-gan: a bowl of rice just in case someone visits at an odd hour and is hungry. The other day as I was helping Ndee prepare ceebu jen (fish and rice) as usual on days that I don't have school, the doorbell rang. I went to open the door and greeted a woman who carried a child on her back. We exchanged greetings, and she presented herself as a woman with children who were in need of rice to eat. Immediately my first thought was "is this woman for real or is she faking it?" Not knowing what to do I called for Ndee, who readily gave her two small plastic bags of clean rice. I say "clean rice" because here rice does not come as a bag of equally shaped and colored grains. Each day, we pick through bowls of rice, looking for black grains. When I look back on how I questioned the legitimacy of this woman's hunger, I feel embarrassed. It didn't matter if she was actually in need of rice or not. It was my duty to give it to her anyway, for she had asked for my protection.
So for those of you are assured me that being abroad meant I would lose weight. Right, okay, no.
I've learned to make ceebu jen: basically a HUGE platter of rice with an onion sauce, vegetables (carrots, eggplant, lettuce, "bitter" tomatoes, yams, and beets), fish, and a bissap leaf sauce. What I also had to learn was how to eat it. First off, I've managed to scoop up enough of my food using my right hand. For those of you don't know, I'm left-handed. However, in Islamic culture, the left hand is used for nothing else than cleaning oneself. One's right hand is used for everything else: greeting, writing, and eating. Around this platter, there can 4 to 8 people eating. So, it becomes necessary to be mindful of how much you eat and from where you eat. Each person carves a semi-circle out of their section of the platter by the end of the meal. It is necessary to stay in your own section, only getting vegetables and meat from the middle. If someone has a piece of food in their section, it is their responsibility to split it up among the others.
And here's where another shout out to CIEE for their awesome program is due. I learned most o my knowledge about all of the food etiquette when, during orientation, we visited the Baobab Center for a day of eating. I'm really glad that I got this "training." Eating with other foreigners at ht seam bowl (who don't know the silent rules), is a bit difficult because they tend to offend the host. Even after living with here for a month, some other foreigners that I have met haven't realized that there is a specific etiquette to eating around the bowl. This etiquette exists so that everything may be equally shared where it is due. And to witness the obstruction of this carefully knit structure because of a lack of care to appreciate it really rubs me the wrong way. The phrase "bon appetite" is a french mannerism, not Senegalese. To repeatedly say this when it is obviously not appropriate is not very deserving of the place that the visitor takes at the table. A person does not give you something to receive in-appreciation in return. Thought for the day: continually evaluate your situation so that you welcome rather than offend those around you.
Those who eat together, laugh together. Or at least when you spend all day making Senegalese beignets and fatayas with 8 women, ha. Right before the two Canadian girls left to return to Canada, my sisters taught us how to make this scrumptious stuff. I was so full that day that the only thing that I could say to explain it was the Wolof phrase that describes how you absolutely can't hold anymore food within you. I patted to my butt and said "Surr na." My sisters just kept laughing.
The Wolof is coming. I've entered that realm where Ndee, Sanaba, and I try only to speak in Wolof. It's painful, but totally worth it. When guys here learn that you can speak Wolof (even if it's a bare minimum), they might just tell you that 1)they love you 2) they want to take you home to meet their parents and 3) they think you should marry them. Senegalese men are very different from American men: they are extremely forward. At first it's awkward and kind of gets on your nerves. But as it keeps coming, I just keep retorting back witty answers. That's really what it's about (well at least in my head); it's just another game to see who can outwit the other.
As the photos have preceded the blog post, most of you probably know about my recent hairdo. What can I say? Do as the Romans do. But, in all honesty, don't do it just for the sake of doing it. I've always wondered what it would feel like to have my hair braided, showing my beautifully, blindingly white scalp off. Besides the incessant itching on my back from the mesh that is woven into my real hair, I like my hair braided. It's a different look, but one that is appreciated here. While I'm not planning on keeping it like this for a long time, I'm really interested in trying different styles. Hope I don't get too carried away…
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Rhythm and Motion
Beyond the ra ta tat tat of Dakar, composed of humming motors of passing cars, the hissing of the car rapide man, the honks of the taxis, the greetings of women, the whispering of children, there is a music that Dakar is known for: Senegalese rap. In the states, when a person talks about rap and rap artists, my mind usually connects to thoughts of money, love, and some slang word for women. Though that genre of rap music exists among Senegalese rap artists, it fades in the much more common political and social discourse lyrics.
In 2000, Senegal's political election scene was pushed and guided by this rap culture. Music became the voice of the people. 50 % of Senegal's demographic is comprised of people under the age of 18! So, when political libertarians looked for a way to reach this audience, they found music. Abdoulaye Wade, the current president of Senegal, became president during this time, promising Senegal's young people the change that they were looking for in their country's judicial system. Twelve years later, Wade remains on this platform without having made any significant changes in the time he has been given, besides a billion-dollar (yes, I said billion) statue of himself and public school buildings that lay vacant due to a severe lack of funding for teachers and students.
His notorious rejection of the rights of Senegalese people has been recently prolonged through an unrighteous constitutional amendment, which was passed by a jury of his own choice. This amendment gives him the ability to run for president once again, though under the original constitution a person may only be president for 3 terms. Wade is expected to win, even though there is a great resistance to this. Don't get me wrong, plenty of people like Wade. For example, I'm pretty sure that my family supports him. However, those who do support him are people who are already rich enough to be able to afford water for a bath everyday, food for every mouth in their family, and private school education for their children. Every day while in class, I hear and see the parades of people who have been paid by Wade to sustain his campaign. This music in the streets does not seem like the real music of Senegal for it serenades people into a false security.
And that is the extent of my knowledge of the political situation. I'm finding it a bit difficult to really know about feelings about the election because of the characteristic Senegalese quality of harmonious relations with one another. The Senegalese are not passive, but they also do not often state a personal opinion on matters. I have yet to decide if this is positive or not. Much of the political/social rap music will describe the situation of the streets of Dakar, but no one takes much action against those who are responsible for the streets of Dakar. A common response to the latest constitutional amendment has not prompted a movement against impeaching Wade, instead it has birthed an indifference to the election process. Young people in contact with other students have responded to this amendment by stating that they will simply not vote. In other words, while they wish to achieve change through a refusal to be a part of this system, they uphold this system through a lack of active reaction. I am not saying that they need to vote, for their vote will be of no good. Instead, they must find other political means, besides that of disregard, to improve their rights.
Despite these "drawbacks", the music scene in Senegal has taken immense steps towards helping people become aware of widespread, common problems in Senegal, and Africa at large. Their rap music is not the rap music of the States. It has serious depth and meaning for people of all ages. This past Friday night I went with a group of students to see the performer Nix. It was REALLY good. The opening act was a solo rap artist who did some pieces (good pieces) on the state of the streets in Dakar, which are filled with trash.
Then came Nix. I don't know if it's because I've never been this close to an artist at a concert (there were probably about 200 people there and I was like 20 feet from him) or what, but the mood, the music, the night was GOOD. I think the best part was when a little girl about 8 or 9 went up to dance near the stage, and Nix helped up on the stage sing sing with him. She was ecstatic. Also, at one point, his mom came up on stage and gave him a hug in between songs. The feeling of interconnection among the crowd mad the experience that much better. I didn't feel like I had paid someone to entertain me. I felt like we all came together to enjoy some good music about real-life problems.
As well, as the presidential election comes closer, day by day, the group called "Y'en A Marre" (literally meaning to sharpen your self/tool), blessed our presence at school just the other day. They are a movement that begs people in Senegal to ask themselves what it is that they are doing to improve their life and the lives of those around them. Y'en A Marre is led by a rap artist group that works with others to inform people throughout ALL of Senegal about how the presidential process works and what is necessary for a person to vote. Similar to the USA, voters must have a voter registration card for the section of Senegal in which they live. Without this card, they are not allowed to participate in the general election for their president. Unlike in the USA, this actually MATTERS because they do not have an assembly such as our electoral vote. However, as Y'en A Marre does this, President Wade continues to thwart their efforts through the closure of voter registration buildings or through the claim that peoples cards have been "lost" or are illegitimate due to the government misspelling the person's name (so that it doesn't match that of the identification license).
Though this is a frustrating force to fight against, Y'en A Marre pushes on, encouraging everyone to continue to register and to vote for their upcoming president. You see, a candidate only wins when that candidate receives 50% of the vote, plus one. So, Y'en A Marre understands that the best way to fight the system is to educate everyone about the system. The second problem facing groups like Y'en A Marre is the accuracy of the vote count. In 2007, there was great opposition against Wade, so great that it was with disbelief that Wade had won. Even though there is not explicit evidence, many people think that Wade had the elections rigged. At the beginning of his campaigning for this election, he stated that he would win this election with a 53% vote. What often happens in presidential elections like this is that a main candidate will have lesser candidates as, in a sense, deploys that give up their votes to the main candidate at the end of the vote. Yes, that's possible here. So, it's even more possible that Wade will still win even after serious efforts have been taken against him.
Hence, with all of this stirring, our Spring Break has so far been postponed for a few days, while the many but structured manifestations occur throughout Senegal. If Wade wins, which is completely probable, then our Spring Break will be postponed for a later time. Our professors expect much disruption in the form of transit strikes, power outages, and lack of water during the weeks after, if Wade wins. Even after talking with Y'en A Marre, I am not what this country will do if Wade takes the election for they gave no answer to that question. Instead, they reminded us that it was not their place to tell Senegal who to have as their president. Rather, there must be a system change before their is any power gained by the people. To be here during this time, to witness a country that wears a veil of "democracy" upon its head start to unravel and question its veracity, is amazing. Kudos Senegal.
In 2000, Senegal's political election scene was pushed and guided by this rap culture. Music became the voice of the people. 50 % of Senegal's demographic is comprised of people under the age of 18! So, when political libertarians looked for a way to reach this audience, they found music. Abdoulaye Wade, the current president of Senegal, became president during this time, promising Senegal's young people the change that they were looking for in their country's judicial system. Twelve years later, Wade remains on this platform without having made any significant changes in the time he has been given, besides a billion-dollar (yes, I said billion) statue of himself and public school buildings that lay vacant due to a severe lack of funding for teachers and students.
His notorious rejection of the rights of Senegalese people has been recently prolonged through an unrighteous constitutional amendment, which was passed by a jury of his own choice. This amendment gives him the ability to run for president once again, though under the original constitution a person may only be president for 3 terms. Wade is expected to win, even though there is a great resistance to this. Don't get me wrong, plenty of people like Wade. For example, I'm pretty sure that my family supports him. However, those who do support him are people who are already rich enough to be able to afford water for a bath everyday, food for every mouth in their family, and private school education for their children. Every day while in class, I hear and see the parades of people who have been paid by Wade to sustain his campaign. This music in the streets does not seem like the real music of Senegal for it serenades people into a false security.
And that is the extent of my knowledge of the political situation. I'm finding it a bit difficult to really know about feelings about the election because of the characteristic Senegalese quality of harmonious relations with one another. The Senegalese are not passive, but they also do not often state a personal opinion on matters. I have yet to decide if this is positive or not. Much of the political/social rap music will describe the situation of the streets of Dakar, but no one takes much action against those who are responsible for the streets of Dakar. A common response to the latest constitutional amendment has not prompted a movement against impeaching Wade, instead it has birthed an indifference to the election process. Young people in contact with other students have responded to this amendment by stating that they will simply not vote. In other words, while they wish to achieve change through a refusal to be a part of this system, they uphold this system through a lack of active reaction. I am not saying that they need to vote, for their vote will be of no good. Instead, they must find other political means, besides that of disregard, to improve their rights.
Despite these "drawbacks", the music scene in Senegal has taken immense steps towards helping people become aware of widespread, common problems in Senegal, and Africa at large. Their rap music is not the rap music of the States. It has serious depth and meaning for people of all ages. This past Friday night I went with a group of students to see the performer Nix. It was REALLY good. The opening act was a solo rap artist who did some pieces (good pieces) on the state of the streets in Dakar, which are filled with trash.
Then came Nix. I don't know if it's because I've never been this close to an artist at a concert (there were probably about 200 people there and I was like 20 feet from him) or what, but the mood, the music, the night was GOOD. I think the best part was when a little girl about 8 or 9 went up to dance near the stage, and Nix helped up on the stage sing sing with him. She was ecstatic. Also, at one point, his mom came up on stage and gave him a hug in between songs. The feeling of interconnection among the crowd mad the experience that much better. I didn't feel like I had paid someone to entertain me. I felt like we all came together to enjoy some good music about real-life problems.
As well, as the presidential election comes closer, day by day, the group called "Y'en A Marre" (literally meaning to sharpen your self/tool), blessed our presence at school just the other day. They are a movement that begs people in Senegal to ask themselves what it is that they are doing to improve their life and the lives of those around them. Y'en A Marre is led by a rap artist group that works with others to inform people throughout ALL of Senegal about how the presidential process works and what is necessary for a person to vote. Similar to the USA, voters must have a voter registration card for the section of Senegal in which they live. Without this card, they are not allowed to participate in the general election for their president. Unlike in the USA, this actually MATTERS because they do not have an assembly such as our electoral vote. However, as Y'en A Marre does this, President Wade continues to thwart their efforts through the closure of voter registration buildings or through the claim that peoples cards have been "lost" or are illegitimate due to the government misspelling the person's name (so that it doesn't match that of the identification license).
Though this is a frustrating force to fight against, Y'en A Marre pushes on, encouraging everyone to continue to register and to vote for their upcoming president. You see, a candidate only wins when that candidate receives 50% of the vote, plus one. So, Y'en A Marre understands that the best way to fight the system is to educate everyone about the system. The second problem facing groups like Y'en A Marre is the accuracy of the vote count. In 2007, there was great opposition against Wade, so great that it was with disbelief that Wade had won. Even though there is not explicit evidence, many people think that Wade had the elections rigged. At the beginning of his campaigning for this election, he stated that he would win this election with a 53% vote. What often happens in presidential elections like this is that a main candidate will have lesser candidates as, in a sense, deploys that give up their votes to the main candidate at the end of the vote. Yes, that's possible here. So, it's even more possible that Wade will still win even after serious efforts have been taken against him.
Hence, with all of this stirring, our Spring Break has so far been postponed for a few days, while the many but structured manifestations occur throughout Senegal. If Wade wins, which is completely probable, then our Spring Break will be postponed for a later time. Our professors expect much disruption in the form of transit strikes, power outages, and lack of water during the weeks after, if Wade wins. Even after talking with Y'en A Marre, I am not what this country will do if Wade takes the election for they gave no answer to that question. Instead, they reminded us that it was not their place to tell Senegal who to have as their president. Rather, there must be a system change before their is any power gained by the people. To be here during this time, to witness a country that wears a veil of "democracy" upon its head start to unravel and question its veracity, is amazing. Kudos Senegal.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Keeping it in the Family
Guys, this is tough. Funny, but at the same time tough. I have so much more respect for people who have studied abroad in cultures that are even more non-Western than Dakar. I don't want to sugar coat this experience for you because then there would be no point in even having this blog. So, I'm telling like it is: living in other cultures, especially when one has access to their home culture is very wishy washy. I think that it would be easier if we didn't have such a large group of us here. For then we would all feel it more necessary to become a part of the local culture in a faster manner. Don't get me wrong, we all came here with the goal of speaking and living the local life style as much as possible. if we hadn't then we wouldn't even be here. However, I notice that we resort to English without even thinking about it, when we are around one another. I'm seriously thinking about being that odd person that allows people to only speak to them in French or Wolof. Would that be ok?
So though I remembered in my last post that I haven't really spoken about my family, I totally forgot to say anything! Well, I have a really big family: a mother, an uncle, 6 sisters, 4 brothers, 5 nieces, 2 nephews, two Canadian Med students, and two maids, all of which live in our house! Thank goodness I have my own bedroom and bathroom, which is rather rare here. So in that way I've been spoiled. It's interesting having such a large family, for on one hand I always have someone new to talk to but on the other it can become very tiring living with so many people.
My sister Yacine (who is actually the niece of my brother's wife) is living with us while she goes to university to become a lawyer. Her family lives in South Senegal. Yacine is basically my "mom." I say this because Maman Therese really just manages the household, and for the rest of her time she rests in her large apartment in the house with her brother from Paris who is currently staying with us. Theres, Mami Joe, and younger Therese are unmarried and are the daughters of Maman Therese. I know that Therese works in a fabric shop, but I have no clue what the other two do whatsoever. Most of their time is spent watching tv, no joke. I have seen way too many soap operas and music videos here already haha. All of the unmarried girls in the house live on the second floor near me and Maman Therese.
Two of my brothers, Babacar and El Hadj, are unmarried and go to university. Babacar is the only one that lives on the first floor where all of the family rooms are located (except for the Canadians). El Hadj lives on the 3rd floor with another of my sister's (Aida) and her husband and three children Arame Yvonne (7), Zainai (4), and Babacar Mamadou (2). My other brother, Alboury, and his wife Aida (the aunt of Yacine) live across the house on the second floor with there three children Aida (5), Anna (2), and Baby Aida (4.5 months). Of all the women and men in the household, Alboury and his wife Aida are the most warm and welcoming. Aida is so sweet, an dI always want to give her a hug. Everyday she sincerely asks me how I am and how my day went. It is not rushed, and her smile keeps me lingering to continue talking to her.
The other night she taught me how to carry Baby Aida on my back. First one ties a small cloth around your neck, so that the rest of the cloth drapes down your back, creating friction for the baby and a convenient spit up rag. then you bend over, and place the baby on the lower half of your back. Taking a piece of cloth that is a square with ties at the top and at the bottom, you wrap this around the baby, tying the top above your breasts and the bottom around your hips. Then, to keep the baby warm and to add a bit of color to this baby backpack, you wrap a scarf around yourself. I was nervous at first that the baby would fall, but after walking around with her, it became evident that she wasn't going to fall. Aida explained to me that women carry the baby on their back because if they were to fall forward this would keep the baby safe. I thought about what if I were to fall backward. But, then I realized that it's really rare for someone to fall backward here. During my two weeks here, I have already realized how people help others to not fall backward here, especially those with children.
Talking about children, I really should tell you about the kids. They are so different from one another, with such strong personalities! I'll go by age to make it easier.
First, there is Arame Yvonne. What a lovely countenance she has. She is seven years old, but you would think that she was 9! She is the one who helps me the most with my French because she has been learning it for about 3 years alongside her Wolof in school. She is very patient with me, of which I am thankful. Also, we have recently attempted to teach each other our different naming games for body parts. She will teach me the one in Wolof, and then I will teach her the one in English. You know, "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees and toes…" etcetera. She has a lot of fun, as do I for she is quite the entertainer, making sure everyone takes their fair turn in the games. The Wolof song goes something like this:
Tonk, loxo, nopp Feet, shoulders, ears
Tonk, loxo, nopp Feet, shoulders, ears
Bekkin, bott, boot, gammin Nose, throat, eyes, mouth
Aida is quite different than her older cousin. While Arame Yvonne has begun to learn how to respond to social situations, Aida is at the age when she it easily overcome with jealousy and self-esteem. It's totally not a bad thing. it's just simply funny to see myself in this 5 year old girl. When I do not have the strength to swallow my pride, I usually separate myself from others. Aida does the same. Her feelings will be hurt by someone, but instead of crying or screaming (like the younger children), she walks away, having anger inside of her. It is difficult for her to let go of the small hurts at this age. However, Aida has the most personality. She has belief in herself.
The little ones can be the cutest things while at the same time the most mischievous. I hardly see Zainai, but when I do she never ceases to ask "Comment tu t'appelles?" which means "what is your name?" I laugh every time and respond "Tu sais comment je m'appelle." She smiles, and she says "Laura!" I smile, and we laugh. It's our little game.
Anna and Babacar, the youngest, keep me going. While Anna gives me "big" kisses, Babacar plucks my nose and gives his signature laugh as an approval to me playful reaction. These kids are little cutie-pies!
So though I remembered in my last post that I haven't really spoken about my family, I totally forgot to say anything! Well, I have a really big family: a mother, an uncle, 6 sisters, 4 brothers, 5 nieces, 2 nephews, two Canadian Med students, and two maids, all of which live in our house! Thank goodness I have my own bedroom and bathroom, which is rather rare here. So in that way I've been spoiled. It's interesting having such a large family, for on one hand I always have someone new to talk to but on the other it can become very tiring living with so many people.
My sister Yacine (who is actually the niece of my brother's wife) is living with us while she goes to university to become a lawyer. Her family lives in South Senegal. Yacine is basically my "mom." I say this because Maman Therese really just manages the household, and for the rest of her time she rests in her large apartment in the house with her brother from Paris who is currently staying with us. Theres, Mami Joe, and younger Therese are unmarried and are the daughters of Maman Therese. I know that Therese works in a fabric shop, but I have no clue what the other two do whatsoever. Most of their time is spent watching tv, no joke. I have seen way too many soap operas and music videos here already haha. All of the unmarried girls in the house live on the second floor near me and Maman Therese.
Two of my brothers, Babacar and El Hadj, are unmarried and go to university. Babacar is the only one that lives on the first floor where all of the family rooms are located (except for the Canadians). El Hadj lives on the 3rd floor with another of my sister's (Aida) and her husband and three children Arame Yvonne (7), Zainai (4), and Babacar Mamadou (2). My other brother, Alboury, and his wife Aida (the aunt of Yacine) live across the house on the second floor with there three children Aida (5), Anna (2), and Baby Aida (4.5 months). Of all the women and men in the household, Alboury and his wife Aida are the most warm and welcoming. Aida is so sweet, an dI always want to give her a hug. Everyday she sincerely asks me how I am and how my day went. It is not rushed, and her smile keeps me lingering to continue talking to her.
The other night she taught me how to carry Baby Aida on my back. First one ties a small cloth around your neck, so that the rest of the cloth drapes down your back, creating friction for the baby and a convenient spit up rag. then you bend over, and place the baby on the lower half of your back. Taking a piece of cloth that is a square with ties at the top and at the bottom, you wrap this around the baby, tying the top above your breasts and the bottom around your hips. Then, to keep the baby warm and to add a bit of color to this baby backpack, you wrap a scarf around yourself. I was nervous at first that the baby would fall, but after walking around with her, it became evident that she wasn't going to fall. Aida explained to me that women carry the baby on their back because if they were to fall forward this would keep the baby safe. I thought about what if I were to fall backward. But, then I realized that it's really rare for someone to fall backward here. During my two weeks here, I have already realized how people help others to not fall backward here, especially those with children.
Talking about children, I really should tell you about the kids. They are so different from one another, with such strong personalities! I'll go by age to make it easier.
First, there is Arame Yvonne. What a lovely countenance she has. She is seven years old, but you would think that she was 9! She is the one who helps me the most with my French because she has been learning it for about 3 years alongside her Wolof in school. She is very patient with me, of which I am thankful. Also, we have recently attempted to teach each other our different naming games for body parts. She will teach me the one in Wolof, and then I will teach her the one in English. You know, "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees and toes…" etcetera. She has a lot of fun, as do I for she is quite the entertainer, making sure everyone takes their fair turn in the games. The Wolof song goes something like this:
Tonk, loxo, nopp Feet, shoulders, ears
Tonk, loxo, nopp Feet, shoulders, ears
Bekkin, bott, boot, gammin Nose, throat, eyes, mouth
Aida is quite different than her older cousin. While Arame Yvonne has begun to learn how to respond to social situations, Aida is at the age when she it easily overcome with jealousy and self-esteem. It's totally not a bad thing. it's just simply funny to see myself in this 5 year old girl. When I do not have the strength to swallow my pride, I usually separate myself from others. Aida does the same. Her feelings will be hurt by someone, but instead of crying or screaming (like the younger children), she walks away, having anger inside of her. It is difficult for her to let go of the small hurts at this age. However, Aida has the most personality. She has belief in herself.
The little ones can be the cutest things while at the same time the most mischievous. I hardly see Zainai, but when I do she never ceases to ask "Comment tu t'appelles?" which means "what is your name?" I laugh every time and respond "Tu sais comment je m'appelle." She smiles, and she says "Laura!" I smile, and we laugh. It's our little game.
Anna and Babacar, the youngest, keep me going. While Anna gives me "big" kisses, Babacar plucks my nose and gives his signature laugh as an approval to me playful reaction. These kids are little cutie-pies!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Let's Learn
Bienvenue!
Before I even stepped into my neighborhood, its reputation preceded itself as nothing less than a community. For those of you who know me well, you know my instant reaction: a smile. There's nothing more that I like than when I enter into a place that has a community into which I may find a position. And, this is exactly what I hope to do.
To get to my neighborhood of Ouakam (!) from the school, I must take public transportation. If I do not then it's a 45 minute walk, which I have done once. Though I enjoyed it, I'll be waiting a while before repeating it. Every day, I take what is called a car rapide to and from school. But don't let the name fool you. Even though it is faster than walking, it's not that rapid. The best part about it is the feeling that you are constantly playing a game of how many people can the guy cram into the back of a van. But seriously, this vehicle that is about the size of a suburban can fit 20 people, easy. Also, I'm white, so I get stared at a lot. It was pretty uncomfortable at first, but I think I'm getting used to it. Also, I've learned that if you don't speak and try not to look into anyone's eyes then you're good. In Senegalese culture, it is very rude to look directly into someone's eyes, especially when you're in close quarters with them. Though Americans are known for their "bubbles," I would definitely argue that this cultural aspect of Senegalese society creates, for me at least, a complex web of ways in which one is able to speak to someone that you are elbowing and they are half sitting on your lap.
Here in Dakar, I am not only white but I am an American. I have been told that my presence is that of a "Toubab": one who has much and one who loves to have much (as in material worth). It is not common to have much material worth in Dakar, but this is not necessarily due to a lack of things here. One can buy much here, but in the teachings of Islam one is not measured upon one's material items but rather their mbokk: the amount of people someone shares their material things with. Senegalese people are very well known for their hospitality, and this is why: they see their worth not in the amount of things that they have for themselves, but in their ability to give what they have to others. One's worth is evident in events such as births, marriages, and funerals, where people come to show their support of your individual actions. sOmetimes it is difficult to remind myself that the relationships that I build with my family, whether that be through watching hours of soap operas that I really don't understand or painstakingly peeling cloves of garlic, are more important for my self worth than being able to afford to take showers from something other than buckets.
Every day, we cross a road to get to school. Well, we cross many. There are no red lights or stop signs in Dakar. In fact, I've only seen one speed limit sign. People kind of just drive and stop for people only when they have to do so. If you're walking, watch out because they aren't going to stop for you. Pedrestrians have no rights on the road. Anyone remember that game where you're the frog that's trying to cross the road, and about eight times out of ten you get splattered? Well, that's exactly how it feels here, haha.
My Wolof and French are slowly but surely getting better. Even in a country where English is neither the formal or informal language, people love to speak it with you. However, my family has been extremely supportive in my Wolof and French endeavors. I just found out two days ago that my sister, Yacine, who I've been hanging out with most, has been taking English for 6 years! She speaks very well, but will not do so with me because she wants me to learn French. Also, one of my brothers, El Hadj, will only speak in Wolof with me.
The best thing about learning Wolof is that I am taken more seriously when I speak it to people around town, such as in the stores and at the markets. However, I am afraid to get too good because then rather than being considered a Toubab, I will be thought of as a Demm. This is the name for spirits that live among humans, acting like humans, but they harm humans. If a white person speaks Wolof well, then they are considered a Demm, and people do not associate with… Bon chance, oui?
Ok, so though the whole Demm concept is a little out of the ordinary for the city, it is still believed by older people out in communities outside of the city. However, there are certain things that 99% of Senegalese (and other West African peoples) believe.
1) While in Senegal, you are on Senegalese time, which means about 15 to 45 minutes late.
2) On a more serious note, no matter what your religion is, you should have one. In Senegal, though it is about 94% Islamic, all religions are allowed. After talking with some Senegalese students who attend the law school next door to us, we began to understand why atheism is not really viable in Senegal. One guy explained to us that to be of a different religion is completely different than to say that one has no religion. He asked us how we could believe that nothing had created us and everything around us. Even if you believe in totems (animal-like gods), you still have something that is your protector against the hardships of life. So, to tell a Senegalese person that you do not believe that there is something beyond yourself, it's totally mystifying. They will be able to comprehend this notion; not because they are intelligent but because it does not fit into their system of knowledge. I have heard this explanation from friends at home as well. It's interesting to see this point of view from nation that is almost homogenous in their faith.
Going back to mbokk, Senegal really is the most hospitable place that I've ever been to in my life. Apart from the awkward car prides, Senegalese customs call for every person to give more than they receive or keep for themselves. One way to do this is to offer your guest tea while they are visiting. However, as the guest, be prepared to give back about 4 hours of your time. There are three rounds of tea, and it is prepared over a gas burner from tea leaves, water, and special pouring techniques. This tea is really good. I mean really good. Very minty and refreshing, while at the same time sweet and satisfying.
If you aren't visiting someone at their home, you'll probably go out for a little sorti. My night at my house, my sister Yacine took me to the statue of President Wade. It's beautiful, no doubt. However, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, especially after learning that it cost millions of dollars. Though Wade uses his words well, his actions do not uplift this country. Each and every day, I am passed by at least 100 children who are on the streets begging. Whether they are part of the talibe (an informal organization that beats children who return with no money) or they have ran away form home where they were spending each and every day in a gold mine, these children need millions of dollars spent on them.
We spent some time with the creator of the documentary "Stolen Innocence." I HIGHLY recommend that you watch this. He has spent a lot of time creating other films like this that he has introduced to the general Senegalese society to highlight these problems to the public.
Ok, so somehow it has slipped my mind until now to really tell you all about my family. So the CIEE program goes like this:
You take five courses: one Wolof language, one French language (I got into the highest level, eek!), on Contemporary Senegalese Society, and two electives. For my electives, I chose History of Islam and Education and Culture in Senegal. While I am here for four months, I not only will be studying in a foreign country and culture, but I will also be living in it. That means no hot showers from the pipes, no hiding in my room after class on Facebook (though I do love seeing your lives), and no English. Think about how difficult it would be for you to live at you house while you're in college, then multiply it by ten because you can't understand not only the language but also the culture.
Yeah, that's me, always paranoid about something, aha. In my "Education and Culture" class, I have a professor that is from the Falani tribe. For a taste of African informal education before the colonization period, we began with geography. At about or 9 years of age, each child would go in front of the entire community in pairs to sing a song, which went like this:
Child 1: "Do you know?"
Child 2: "Yes, I know."
Child 1: "Where do you know?"
Child 2: "Gebe."
The song would continue as long as neither child hesitated in their answer. The best of the best were those children who were able to name the most places that surrounded their village. Thus, this was their geography lesson.
So far, my most difficult task is speaking. I knew it would be hard, but this really is trying because everyone speaks both French and Wolof, and most speak a little English too. When I go into a store, people automatically greet me in French, even though to the other native customers they speak in Wolof. This would be fine, except that if I spoke in Wolof to them, then I would be considered more of an equal. But because my Wolof is so small right now, I cannot build these relationships yet. Also, if I am having a difficult time explaining something in French, then some of my family members will just start asking me in English. It's a little frustrating because I would like to struggle in my French in order to learn more. I hope that this gets better when I begin my lessons this coming week. I'm sure it will.
The most trying cultural change is how children are reared. From day one, i have witnessed too many beatings and a lot of screaming. I'm not really sure what's going on half of the time with the children. But, I don't really know if there is a lot of preventative discipline rather than just aftermath discipline. Everyone here is very loud, more so than my actual family. It's a little unnerving, and hard to deal with sometimes. I'm not meaning to complain, simply trying to describe the atmosphere of the place. Anyways, I'm finding it the most difficult to sit and watch others disciplining their children in a way than my own. It's the true dilemma of the outsider. Anthropology skills, here we go...
Sunday I woke up to, what I'm pretty sure, is a Catholic church service. It's odd because I recognize the tunes though the words are probably wolof. I can't see the church but I can definitely hear it. The oddest thing about this is that usually it's not a christian church but a Muslim intercom that wakes me up every morning at 5:30 AM. Last night Yacine, who usually wears capri pants Adidas flip flops, and something along the lines of a Che Guevara shirt with a hood, had put on her hijab. She was praying. This morning the Christian music does not phase this household. Papi Joe still came to knock on my door and pester me until i gave in to him, giving him a fruit sucker, which he cleverly hid like any child of 3. I once again was not able to communicate with the maid Sanaba, who I think only speaks Wolof (or just refuses to understand my jumbled French). I have some outer clothes to wash but I can't seem to figure out when laundry day is or who to give them to since I am not allowed to do it myself. I only wash my undergarments because that is personal.
This life is different, but I'm simply learning how to conduct myself around other people (but finding it to be not so simple). Next thing to figure out: how to wash my coffee cup that I've used too many times already…
A Bientôt!
Before I even stepped into my neighborhood, its reputation preceded itself as nothing less than a community. For those of you who know me well, you know my instant reaction: a smile. There's nothing more that I like than when I enter into a place that has a community into which I may find a position. And, this is exactly what I hope to do.
To get to my neighborhood of Ouakam (!) from the school, I must take public transportation. If I do not then it's a 45 minute walk, which I have done once. Though I enjoyed it, I'll be waiting a while before repeating it. Every day, I take what is called a car rapide to and from school. But don't let the name fool you. Even though it is faster than walking, it's not that rapid. The best part about it is the feeling that you are constantly playing a game of how many people can the guy cram into the back of a van. But seriously, this vehicle that is about the size of a suburban can fit 20 people, easy. Also, I'm white, so I get stared at a lot. It was pretty uncomfortable at first, but I think I'm getting used to it. Also, I've learned that if you don't speak and try not to look into anyone's eyes then you're good. In Senegalese culture, it is very rude to look directly into someone's eyes, especially when you're in close quarters with them. Though Americans are known for their "bubbles," I would definitely argue that this cultural aspect of Senegalese society creates, for me at least, a complex web of ways in which one is able to speak to someone that you are elbowing and they are half sitting on your lap.
Here in Dakar, I am not only white but I am an American. I have been told that my presence is that of a "Toubab": one who has much and one who loves to have much (as in material worth). It is not common to have much material worth in Dakar, but this is not necessarily due to a lack of things here. One can buy much here, but in the teachings of Islam one is not measured upon one's material items but rather their mbokk: the amount of people someone shares their material things with. Senegalese people are very well known for their hospitality, and this is why: they see their worth not in the amount of things that they have for themselves, but in their ability to give what they have to others. One's worth is evident in events such as births, marriages, and funerals, where people come to show their support of your individual actions. sOmetimes it is difficult to remind myself that the relationships that I build with my family, whether that be through watching hours of soap operas that I really don't understand or painstakingly peeling cloves of garlic, are more important for my self worth than being able to afford to take showers from something other than buckets.
Every day, we cross a road to get to school. Well, we cross many. There are no red lights or stop signs in Dakar. In fact, I've only seen one speed limit sign. People kind of just drive and stop for people only when they have to do so. If you're walking, watch out because they aren't going to stop for you. Pedrestrians have no rights on the road. Anyone remember that game where you're the frog that's trying to cross the road, and about eight times out of ten you get splattered? Well, that's exactly how it feels here, haha.
My Wolof and French are slowly but surely getting better. Even in a country where English is neither the formal or informal language, people love to speak it with you. However, my family has been extremely supportive in my Wolof and French endeavors. I just found out two days ago that my sister, Yacine, who I've been hanging out with most, has been taking English for 6 years! She speaks very well, but will not do so with me because she wants me to learn French. Also, one of my brothers, El Hadj, will only speak in Wolof with me.
The best thing about learning Wolof is that I am taken more seriously when I speak it to people around town, such as in the stores and at the markets. However, I am afraid to get too good because then rather than being considered a Toubab, I will be thought of as a Demm. This is the name for spirits that live among humans, acting like humans, but they harm humans. If a white person speaks Wolof well, then they are considered a Demm, and people do not associate with… Bon chance, oui?
Ok, so though the whole Demm concept is a little out of the ordinary for the city, it is still believed by older people out in communities outside of the city. However, there are certain things that 99% of Senegalese (and other West African peoples) believe.
1) While in Senegal, you are on Senegalese time, which means about 15 to 45 minutes late.
2) On a more serious note, no matter what your religion is, you should have one. In Senegal, though it is about 94% Islamic, all religions are allowed. After talking with some Senegalese students who attend the law school next door to us, we began to understand why atheism is not really viable in Senegal. One guy explained to us that to be of a different religion is completely different than to say that one has no religion. He asked us how we could believe that nothing had created us and everything around us. Even if you believe in totems (animal-like gods), you still have something that is your protector against the hardships of life. So, to tell a Senegalese person that you do not believe that there is something beyond yourself, it's totally mystifying. They will be able to comprehend this notion; not because they are intelligent but because it does not fit into their system of knowledge. I have heard this explanation from friends at home as well. It's interesting to see this point of view from nation that is almost homogenous in their faith.
Going back to mbokk, Senegal really is the most hospitable place that I've ever been to in my life. Apart from the awkward car prides, Senegalese customs call for every person to give more than they receive or keep for themselves. One way to do this is to offer your guest tea while they are visiting. However, as the guest, be prepared to give back about 4 hours of your time. There are three rounds of tea, and it is prepared over a gas burner from tea leaves, water, and special pouring techniques. This tea is really good. I mean really good. Very minty and refreshing, while at the same time sweet and satisfying.
If you aren't visiting someone at their home, you'll probably go out for a little sorti. My night at my house, my sister Yacine took me to the statue of President Wade. It's beautiful, no doubt. However, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, especially after learning that it cost millions of dollars. Though Wade uses his words well, his actions do not uplift this country. Each and every day, I am passed by at least 100 children who are on the streets begging. Whether they are part of the talibe (an informal organization that beats children who return with no money) or they have ran away form home where they were spending each and every day in a gold mine, these children need millions of dollars spent on them.
We spent some time with the creator of the documentary "Stolen Innocence." I HIGHLY recommend that you watch this. He has spent a lot of time creating other films like this that he has introduced to the general Senegalese society to highlight these problems to the public.
Ok, so somehow it has slipped my mind until now to really tell you all about my family. So the CIEE program goes like this:
You take five courses: one Wolof language, one French language (I got into the highest level, eek!), on Contemporary Senegalese Society, and two electives. For my electives, I chose History of Islam and Education and Culture in Senegal. While I am here for four months, I not only will be studying in a foreign country and culture, but I will also be living in it. That means no hot showers from the pipes, no hiding in my room after class on Facebook (though I do love seeing your lives), and no English. Think about how difficult it would be for you to live at you house while you're in college, then multiply it by ten because you can't understand not only the language but also the culture.
Yeah, that's me, always paranoid about something, aha. In my "Education and Culture" class, I have a professor that is from the Falani tribe. For a taste of African informal education before the colonization period, we began with geography. At about or 9 years of age, each child would go in front of the entire community in pairs to sing a song, which went like this:
Child 1: "Do you know?"
Child 2: "Yes, I know."
Child 1: "Where do you know?"
Child 2: "Gebe."
The song would continue as long as neither child hesitated in their answer. The best of the best were those children who were able to name the most places that surrounded their village. Thus, this was their geography lesson.
So far, my most difficult task is speaking. I knew it would be hard, but this really is trying because everyone speaks both French and Wolof, and most speak a little English too. When I go into a store, people automatically greet me in French, even though to the other native customers they speak in Wolof. This would be fine, except that if I spoke in Wolof to them, then I would be considered more of an equal. But because my Wolof is so small right now, I cannot build these relationships yet. Also, if I am having a difficult time explaining something in French, then some of my family members will just start asking me in English. It's a little frustrating because I would like to struggle in my French in order to learn more. I hope that this gets better when I begin my lessons this coming week. I'm sure it will.
The most trying cultural change is how children are reared. From day one, i have witnessed too many beatings and a lot of screaming. I'm not really sure what's going on half of the time with the children. But, I don't really know if there is a lot of preventative discipline rather than just aftermath discipline. Everyone here is very loud, more so than my actual family. It's a little unnerving, and hard to deal with sometimes. I'm not meaning to complain, simply trying to describe the atmosphere of the place. Anyways, I'm finding it the most difficult to sit and watch others disciplining their children in a way than my own. It's the true dilemma of the outsider. Anthropology skills, here we go...
Sunday I woke up to, what I'm pretty sure, is a Catholic church service. It's odd because I recognize the tunes though the words are probably wolof. I can't see the church but I can definitely hear it. The oddest thing about this is that usually it's not a christian church but a Muslim intercom that wakes me up every morning at 5:30 AM. Last night Yacine, who usually wears capri pants Adidas flip flops, and something along the lines of a Che Guevara shirt with a hood, had put on her hijab. She was praying. This morning the Christian music does not phase this household. Papi Joe still came to knock on my door and pester me until i gave in to him, giving him a fruit sucker, which he cleverly hid like any child of 3. I once again was not able to communicate with the maid Sanaba, who I think only speaks Wolof (or just refuses to understand my jumbled French). I have some outer clothes to wash but I can't seem to figure out when laundry day is or who to give them to since I am not allowed to do it myself. I only wash my undergarments because that is personal.
This life is different, but I'm simply learning how to conduct myself around other people (but finding it to be not so simple). Next thing to figure out: how to wash my coffee cup that I've used too many times already…
A Bientôt!
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Loving it up
To tell the truth, I didn't think I would make the eight hour flight to Senegal. My discomfort in such close quarters showed exceedingly where propriety is still asked of each person. But low and behold here I am! Stamped and ready, Senegal here I come!
Before I arrived, however, I spent a few days in New York City with an alumna of Rhodes. My hosts were both entertaining and gracious. After spending an hour and a half looking for my shuttle bus, I was on my way from JFK to Manhattan. That night we ate at Libretto's, a nice eat for a great price. Personally, the cheese ravioli with fresh tomato sauce and basil made my night. Check out the place:
http://librettospizzeria.com/
When we got to the apartment, I experienced my first doorman. Usually, when I see a building that has a doorman, I do not go inside. They seem to say "I am here to make sure that you do not get in without a proper look over." However, when I became a guest of the building, the doorman became a symbol of security, friendship, and loyalty. These are the people who have the potential to become your most trusted helper or that person that forgot to tell the building plumber that your sink was clogged and overflowing… Get my drift?
Without attempting to highlight the lack of women in the profession of "doorman" as a ideological statement, I still must mention how I find it ironic that in the North doormen are only men. This would make sense in the South, where "every gentleman holds the door for a lady." However, in the North, where such a statement does not hold, then it would seem that this profession would be sporting a high number of women employees.
A Day Full of Bests
• Sausage, egg, and cheese on a roll: best New York breakfast (And it's delivered!)
• Getting $10 tickets for an evening at Carnegie: best deal for incredible opera voices
• High Line: best New York moment
Check it out -> http://www.thehighline.org/
• Chelsea Market: best underground getaway in the city
• Magnolia Cafe: best place for some great cupcakes and blueberry crisps. Seriously! My vanilla cupcake with buttercream icing was the perfect mixture of cake batter (reminding me of the taste of biscuits) and sweet, buttery cream on top.
• Times Square: best finish to the day with scrumptious and well-priced chinese and a tour through the 3 story M&M store. Only downside was when Mickey and Minnie denied my request for a photo without a $1 tip...
It's not until you walk New York by yourself that you realize how simply awkward you can feel in a place that is not your space. One morning, I decided to do some light shopping in about 2 hours, except that it took me three because of my many wrong directions and turnabouts in the street. Nonetheless, it didn't last long once I got the hang of it. Later that day we hit up Tiffany's and The Plaza, two places I've only ever heard of but never experienced. Tiffany's was chic, set up for the prime shopper. Promenading through The Plaza, I felt like a little girl at a grown-up tea party.
Large, ornately decorated Orthodox churches are not common in the states, so I made a little detour up to 97th to see St. Nicholas
Russian Orthodox Patriarchal Church. The beauty of this church i indescribable. The two primary walls reach to about 20 feet, covered in a wispy blue, while the back walls hosts les chanteurs. The North wall has a story of its own: created through the forward extension of the walls themselves. These walls covered with the Saints of the Holy God, and tangible icons, gilded in the kisses of the pious, strategically placed throughout.
Check it.
http://www.ruschurchusa.org/en/10/222/110
Looking to Senegal
"Gonna take some time to do the things we never have" -Toto
We made our way into a world of far off, low-lying buildings and dust clouds, seemingly nothing in the distance. Riding along the roads the world became a blur of building skeletons, Arabic and French Billboards, sand, people, trash, taxis, and horse-drawn buggies; a true mixture of poverty and modernity.
Realizing that I would definitely be doing some things this semester that I never have done before, I was happy. Happy because what is your life worth if you cannot redeem it through the exploration of others?
Sometimes it is difficult to escape the mold into which you were born. I understand this. But, also if you can escape it, it will be the most rewarding experience that you will EVER have. People find meaning in their lives through their linkage to other human beings of similar beliefs and practices. But, my question is, how do people really know who they are if they never try to look from the inside out? Who do we become when trapped by our own selves?
CIEE is an awesome study abroad company. I continually have to keep reminding myself that their are other programs that are run by CIEE. the staff here really feel like family and as if they are running an actual solitary school located only in Senegal. Fatima is a local liaison for students. If we need anything, she helps us learn how to take care of it. When walking with Fatima to exchange money, we asked her about why so many buildings in the area were only built halfway and then left to the environment. This was something that I noticed immediately: the seemingly vacant buildings all over the city. Not only are they vacant, but most of them are unfinished, simple skeletons of what they could become. Fatima told us that when a new president comes to power, they feel the need to spend any dormant money holds so that the people to do not accuse them of "stealing" money. In the last few years this has resulted in the building of many new apartments and such. However, most run out of money before being able to accomplish them. When a new resident comes to power, they do the same thing, except on their own. So, this results in the many different incomplete buildings across the city.
Jet lag is rough. So, I must bid you adieu. As I lay my head down, I drift in and out of sleep to the sound of people in the streets and goats in the side yard. Laying awake at one point, I thought that even today, one does not need a camera to capture Dakar, but a recorder. Sounds are prevalent, varied, and bright while the scenes may not please the eye.
Postscript: Apologies for the lack of photos. Internet in Dakar is so-so, so it might be a while.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Salutations
Today, I write to you about the beginnings of a journey. Four days from now, I will find myself looking down upon the vast Atlantic Ocean, dreaming of nights to come on the shore of Dakar, Senegal. This semester, I travel to a Western country of Africa in the hopes of living as another in this cultural world. Though my heart has been calm during the weeks leading up, panic mode has begun…
Reality Check
I have so much stuff! That's a pretty typical statement of a person who has just spent the past three days rummaging through 14 boxes (yes 14) of clothes, shoes, books, and toiletries brought home from semester of college. But, really, it took me two straight days to pare it all down to the ESSENTIALS, which still entails one medium rolling suitcase (overstuffed), one carry-on rolling suitcase (a little more overstuffed), and a backpack, which is bursting at the seams. Just imagining going through security on Wednesday morning and Saturday afternoon with my two carry-ons, medication, liquids, and (of course) the laptop that has become my body's latest prosthetic brings ominous feelings to my soul.
Living in another country for four months will be an amazing opportunity affording knowledge and lived experiences that give meaning to people around the globe. It is with great eagerness and delight that I will study Anthropology and French and explore the depths of the city and the breadth of the countryside of Senegal for this time.
Packed and ready, I can finally get some sleep. My flight for New York leaves in the AM at 9:17, so think of me during your first class, your walk to breakfast, or hopefully your dreams!
Laura
P.s. Here's a shout out to my brother-in-law, Travis, who recommends the BEST songs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCca5mPMp9A
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