My Life in Ouakam

Back in Dakar!

2009-09-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

Dekendo Jamma Ca Gen

2009-09-01T20:19:00.000-07:00

From 7-9 May, 2009, I attended a peace symposium in Saint Louis, Senegal with the theme "Bon Voisinage et Résolution des Conflits en Afrique de l'Ouest." The English translation of the word "voisinage" is "neighborliness" but, but that doesn't have much ring to it. Sara proposed the translation "Peace Among Neighbors: Conflict Resolution in West Africa."

Students came from three universities, Cheikh Anta Diop in Dakar, Université de Ziguinchor in Casamance, and Université Gaston Berger in Saint-Louis. Including three Americans and one Canadian, we represented 13 countries.

The US Ambassador to Senegal kicked off the conference with a speech on the importance of student participation in the promotion of peace. We listened to first-hand accounts from people who had witnessed conflicts in Rwanda, Democratic Republic of Congo, Casamance, and Mauritania. We participated in small group discussion about conflict resolution and neighborliness. Most importantly, we had the opportunity to meet wonderful, amazing peoples from all over West Africa.

2009-05-19T07:40:00.000-07:00

It's weird to have a 21st birthday in Senegal; there is no drinking age here so it's no big deal. Awa got me a cake a WARC. Yummy. We had our last history class (which didn't really happen, but the professor said "hi" and took our final papers). Then we had dinner at my favorite Thai restaurant where I ordered a "cocktail asiatique."

Weekend in Toubacouta

2009-05-16T09:13:00.001-07:00

WARC organized a trip to Toubacouta, a region several hours south of Dakar, near the Gambia border. We stopped along the way at Professor Sene's (the director of the study abroad programs) home village. There, we had lunch and fell asleep on the floor, due to the sweltering heat.
After the repose we watched the Seerer women of the village dance for a while. They had us join in, too. Here is a picture of Baird and Sara dancing:

Then we moved on to our hotel in Toubacouta. Waly (one of the program coordinators) took us to a court where we played an intense game of basketball.
And took a walk to the beach. Here I am with Cristina and Lindsay.
That night there was a cultural spectacle with dancing, drumming, and theatre.
The next day we went for a pirogue ride in a forest of mangroves.
Waly decided to jump in the water, and most of the rest of us followed.
The water was nice and warm; some of the most fun I've had.
There was a big group of people waiting for the boats on the deck.

That night there was a lutte (wrestling match) in the village. It lasted for hours, and was mostly dancing and drumming with matches interspersed within the chaos.
The following day, Waly took us to his home village of Keur Moussa. We were each assigned host families for the night.
The women tried to teach me how to pound millet; it's harder than it looks!
The little girls were far more skilled in this art than I.
Here are some of my host sisters. The one in the orange was too cute. She showed me how to carry buckets of water on my head, from the well to the house. The well is centrally located in relation to houses built around it.
The woman also showed us how to make couscous. Couscous here is different from the Moroccan couscous we're used to in the States, as is has a millet base. It has the consistency of fine sand, and isn't my favorite. You can prepare it with a tomato sauce, or with sugar and milk forr a sweet snack.
Here is a photo a girl that Katie took. I just thought it was a really beautiful picture.
For lunch, the women had us prepare yassa poulet. It's a chicken dish with an onion sauce. They killed the chickens for us. I had to pluck out the feathers, wash off the blood, and cut off the legs. I wouldn't have thought I could do it, but I didn't want to be rude and it was actually interesting to see how chicken is prepared. It was difficult at times to communicate with the family because they spoke no French. I tried my best to get by with my Wolof, and it was cool to see how much we could talk about, even with my limited skills. You'd be fluent in Wolof in 2 weeks if you stayed there! I wish I could have stayed longer; the family was very hospitable and welcoming.

Easter Chez Gomis

2009-05-15T07:56:00.000-07:00

Alice, Baird, Alex, Sara and I went to Tiffany and Lindsay's house for Easter, as we live with Muslim families. We met their host brothers.

This is ngaalax, a peanut sauce with millet. All of the Catholic families make it for their Muslim friends around Easter time. It's actually really good, minus the millet!

And had a party of sorts on the roof.

Casamance

2009-04-27T14:21:00.000-07:00

For spring break, Alice, Leah, Sara, Tiffany and I went to Casamance, the region of southern Senegal. There has been unrest there in the not so distant past, because some of the Joola (or Diola) people who live there have wanted to separate from the rest of Senegal. Most of the Joola are animist or Christian, while the overwhelming majority of Senegalese are Muslim. In Oussouye, a village in southern Casamance, there is a well-known animist king. We tried to pay him a visit, but he was out that day.

There is a boat that goes from Dakar to Ziguinchor, the capital of the Basse-Casamance region. The ride was overnight, and was actually pretty pleasant. The rules are now very strict about baggage and how many people can be aboard, because in 2002 the former boat, the MS Joola, capsized killing nearly 2000 people.

That night we had dinner at the boat’s restaurant, which was okay but overpriced, danced with some people on deck, and slept in the sleeper cabin. The bed on the boat was actually more comfortable than my bed at my house in Dakar.

In the morning we woke up at 6 am in hopes of making it in time for the breakfast, which we thought went from 6:00-7:00 am (in fact, breakfast was served from 6:30-9:00). Alice was the only one smart enough to sleep in. It’s true that no one loves breakfast like Americans love breakfast, but we thought for some reason that it would be something special since we were on the boat. Generally, in Senegal breakfast is a baguette with some butter or chocolate spread and a cup of either warm powdered milk or Nescafe. The four of us were sitting outside the restaurant (which wasn’t open yet) joking about how the breakfast for which we had woken up so extremely early would be baguette with chocomousse, but we also shared our dreams of waffles, pancakes, toast, and eggs.

When we sat down, there was already a basket of baguettes at each table, with chocolate spread and jam. A waiter came around and poured coffee and tang in each of our glasses, and we started eating. Then the waiter asked us if we wanted the “dejeuner complet” or complete breakfast. I asked what the complete breakfast was, and he responded several times by saying, “it’s the complete breakfast.” We all assumed that there was something more to it, since he already saw us eating the bread that was on the table. It turns out that that was the complete breakfast. It cost $5. We continued to reference “breakfast complète” for the remainder of the trip.

Once in Ziguinchor, we headed straight to our hostel,which was quite nice. There was a shower, real mattresses, and a fan. The five of us went to lunch in town and then walked to the artisan market, which was amazing. We got to see all the shops were artists make wooden statues and jewelry. I’ve seen the same products in Dakar, and was suspicious that they were mass-produced, so it was really great to see people actually making them by hand. I saw a monkey statue that I really liked but I didn’t want to carry it around for the rest of the trip so I promised the vendor that I would come back for it on the last day.

The next day we took a sept-place (a station wagon that seats seven people) from Ziguinchor to Cap Skirring, a town right by the beach. The ride took about an hour and a half, and was absolutely beautiful. Whereas Dakar is dusty and gray, Casamance is lush and green. We headed over to a hostel called “Le Paradise” which was right on the beach. Not bad for $10 per night.

We tried to find a restaurant in town for lunch, but since we were late in arriving, all the kitchens had closed and no food was being served. Finally we came upon a restaurant were they said they could serve us. They said they could make omelets or hamburgers. I also asked for some fruit juice. We saw the guy go across the street to buy eggs and fruit. He literally went out and bought everything necessary for what we had ordered and prepared it himself. The juice was not what I expected, but it was pretty delicious.

The next morning we headed to the beach. We went swimming, built sandcastles and ate a delicious freshly cooked meal at a small beachfront restaurant. I unfortunately got a horrible sunburn, as did Alice. It was hard to sleep that night, but ultimately worth it because it was a lot of fun.

From Cap Skirring we headed to Oussouye, a Joola village in southeastern Senegal. We stayed in a capement of heat-busting mud architecture. It was a really great atmosphere. The five of us walked around the town and found a restaurant where all they served was ceeb-u jen and maffe (a rice and meat dish with a heavy tomato paste and peanut sauce). Unfortunately Leah got very sick after lunch so Leah and I went back to the campement for a nap (I had had a chest cold the time and couldn’t stop coughing), but the others went for a bike ride.

That night, Alice, Sara and I had a nice chat with some of the guys who run the capement, and they made us ataya, the Senegalese tea that people drink everyday. It’s an important part of social life, and takes hours to prepare. As we were talking, we heard Leah throwing up upstairs. An older man to whom we were talking offered to take Leah to the hospital. I figured I might as well go to, to see if they could give me anything for the cough. It was very nice of him to walk all the way there with us. A nurse did a brief examination, and proscribed a series of medications. It turned out that we both had slight fevers, and Leah probably had food poisoning, but the examination was inconclusive.

We headed back to Ziguinchor for our final night in Casamance. We had lunch at the same restaurant as before, and checked into a real hotel (a last night splurge) which was around $20 per person. Leah, Tiffanyand I went back to the artisan market to look around a bit more and so that I could buy the monkey. The vendor remembered me right away and had the monkey ready to go. Tiffany went a little crazy, but I think it’s important to have a few things to bring back, especially since we bought them directly from the artisans.

That night we went swimming in the hotel pool, took hot showers, and watched some interesting French TV shows. I was terribly sad to leave Casamance. In fact, if I could choose, I would much rather be living there than in Dakar.

Magic Land

2009-04-03T11:00:00.001-07:00

Dakar has a theme park called Magic Land. It's mostly for young children, but they have rides for adults, too. Tiffany, Leah, Allie and I went there about a week ago to check it out, and it was definitely worth it! It's five dollars to get in, which includes 10 tickets each valued at 250 cfa (50 cents). the rides are all between 2 and 6 tickets, and you can buy more tickets if you want more rides. We all ended up getting two packs.

This was a ride called "Star Warld." It is out of commission for the time being.I think this may be dangerous. The instructions are in Arabic.
Who doesn't love mechanical bull riding?
I felt very sad for the caged animals, especially the monkeys. They looked sad.

St. Louis, au nord du Senegal!

2009-04-03T10:32:00.000-07:00

The MSU group on the bus with Prof. Sene before leaving for St. Louis.

We took a horse and buggy tour of the Island city. It was the first permanent French colony in Senegal, and was the capital of the colony of Senegal from 1673 until independence in 1960.
Fishing is a major local industry in St. Louis. This is Leah, me, Tiffany, Alex, Lindsay and Allie with one of many giant piles of fish heads. That night we observed Senegalese music performance, dance, and a mini comedy sketch.

Also, this guy ate fire.We visited the National Park of the Birds of Djoudj, located 60 km outside of St. Louis.
Birds
Pelicans
A crocodileOn the way back we stopped to climb a centennial Baobab tree. Legend has it that an angry deity once ripped a tree out of the ground and shoved it back in upside down, explaining why the Baobab looks how it does.

Le Gamou

2009-03-12T15:47:00.003-07:00

On Monday I went on a pilgrimage of sorts to celebrate the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad. Some consider this to be actually contradictory to Islam, as you are not supposed to celebrate birthdays. Originally, the Gamou as it’s called, was a pagan pilgrimage that involved dancing and drinking alcohol. The laws of Islam prohibit both of these, so the Gamou was converted in the early 1900s to be a Muslim pilgrimage in celebration of the Prophet, without drinking or dancing.

There are Senegalese Muslim Brotherhoods that have tremendous political and social influence, the most notable being the Mourides and the Tijaniya. There are certain families of marabouts, or religious leaders, from these different brotherhoods who are highly respected and command the discipleship of talibes, or followers. The Gamou, for example, is a Tijaniya pilgrimage. All political leaders are present for events such as these. Despite their overwhelming popularity, there are certain Muslim fundamentalists, known as Islamists, who are completely against Mourides and Tijaniya. These Islamists view their work as being outside of Islam and blasphemous because of the power they hold in the name of the religion, which they use largely for personal monetary and political gain.

I left with my American host sister Sara, our aunt Fatou, uncle Djibril, brother Ousmane, and little brothers Omar (4) and Mansour (1). We drove for about 6 hours through bottleneck traffic. Ousmane even hit another car because the breaks failed temporarily, but Fatou said it was no big deal. When we finally got to Tivawoun (the pilgrimage site) the streets were packed and it was late at night. We tried to navigate through these dusty streets, but were lost as group for a long time. Sara and I didn’t know where we were going or whom we were trying to find. Finally, after being lost for an hour, our other brother who had arrived a day earlier came and found us and brought us to a makeshift campsite where people were sleeping outside. We met our other family members (who we see on a daily basis) and had dinner with them in a cement structure, which was also littered with mats and sleeping bodies. I was starving because I hadn't eaten in about 9 hours, but the dinner was a beef and onion stew with lettuce and bread and potatoes. I had some bread and potatoes. Then Djbril and Ousmane went to get the car. Fatou, Sara, Mansour, Omar and I waited until 4:30 am when they finally came back with it. Then Fatou decided to go shopping. She bought two brooms and a sieve, things that you can buy on the street anywhere. Then we drove all the way back to Ouakam, but had to squeeze 4 people in the back this time so it was the most uncomfortable ride ever! I slept all day when we got home. There was no praying involved, at least not for us or for the people with whom we came, so I was a bit confused as to why we had come. It’s a tradition, I suppose.

On Bounce

2009-03-12T15:47:00.001-07:00

We have discovered the trampoline along the main highway in Dakar. It’s right next to the water and costs 500 cfa to bounce for 15 minutes. So. Much. Fun.

Homework?

2009-03-12T15:46:00.000-07:00

I spent a lot of time working on a power point presentation for my History of the Senegambia class. The professor assigned all of us (there are only 6 people in the class) a different reading that we were to summarize in the form of an oral presentation. Mine was about 100 pages of very dense, complicated material (regarded the 17th century slave trade and Muslim revolutions), in French. It took me a while to read it thoroughly, take copious notes, and then put together a power point. The professor seemed to like it, although no one else did, as it was incredibly boring unless you are very interested in the subject. In any event, I’m very glad to be done with that.

Bon Anniversaire, Astou Fall

2009-03-12T15:44:00.000-07:00

February 29 is Sara’s birthday, which didn’t happen this non-leap year, so we celebrated it on the 28th. Papa Manel told her that she should accept what God has given her and celebrate every four years. That suggestion was rejected, of course. A bunch of us from the MSU and Wells programs met up at the Thai restaurant in Point E. The food was amazing! I got Pad Thai, which is probably my favorite food of all time, so I was definitely pleased. I also got a lychee juice cocktail and lychees on ice for dessert. After dinner we went to see the movies that the university projects ever third Saturday. You get to see two random movies for 500 cfa ($1). We only stayed for the first one, which was a British romantic comedy. After the movie, Alice came back to Ouakam with Sara and me. We bought a bottle of the most horrible rum known to mankind, as it was her 21st birthday after all. The three of us dragged a couple of mattresses (foam pads) from Sara’s room into mine, as mine is larger, and played cards and talked for a while.

Bes bu dellusi moo neex

2009-02-21T13:21:00.000-08:00

On Saturday Sara and I went over to Alice’s house in Mermoz for a sleepover. Her family was really friendly, and totally different from ours. Alice lives with a nuclear family—a dad, a mom, and their four children, a stark contrast to the slew of cousins and uncles with whom we live. Mermoz is also very different from Ouakam; the former has more of a city, upper class feel, while Ouakam is a very traditional neighborhood with streets of dust and sand. We watched TV, danced, and played cards with Alice’s sisters Khadi and Fatimata and brothers Amadou and Thierno. It was interesting to learn different versions of the games we know, and to play with French cards. Alice’s mom got a kick out of my Senegalese name, Salimata Ndoye, because it is a Lebou name, and she is also Lebou. Lebou is one of several Senegalese ethnicities—we are a costal people native to Dakar. I always introduce myself to Senegalese people as Salimata Ndoye, and I love the reactions I get. People find it hilarious, or sometimes they tell me I must be their sister because they have the same surname. Alice’s mom made us a delicious salad with monkfish, which was very similar to the food we had at Ngor. Mmmm.

Yesterday I went back to Sandaga with Baird and Alice. I got my jeans hemmed, as they were about six inches too long for me, and Baird had his sewn up as well. I absolutely love having jeans that are the exact length for me; now I don’t have to fold them up anymore and sand will no longer collect in the folds. Baird and I were also in search of sweatshirts. A man tried desperately to sell Alice a bright yellow jump suit that said, “be juicy” on the front and down the leg, with a giant purple smiley face. Luckily, she refused. I ended up buying a red hooded sweatshirt for 1,000 francs ($2), so I was pretty happy with my purchase. My host brother didn’t even believe me when I told him how cheap it was.

Yesterday was also Mariatou’s birthday, but she forgot about it until her daughter, Ada mentioned in the evening. She jokingly remarked that there was no cake or good food for her birthday, and not very many of the family members were there. To make up for that, Sara and I bought her a cake today, and asked the Wolof professor how to sing happy birthday in Wolof. I think she really loved the cake; it seemed to have made her day. We all then sang happy birthday in French, Wolof, and English. “Bes bu dellusi moo neex!”

Quoi?

2009-02-16T13:26:00.001-08:00

On Friday, our film professor was definitely drunk in class. Before the class started we saw him sitting outside the classroom sleeping; he continued to sleep for at least 15-20 minutes before stumbling into the room. Two of the other students said that they smelled alcohol on him. He started by telling us we would go over the assigned reading from the last class. When Sara asked him a question about the reading, he responded by talking about Barack Obama, and then asked her what page she was referring to, four times. Instead of answering the question, he talked about something unrelated for several minutes.

He then told us that instead of watching the movie on the syllabus, we would be watching a Nigerian film about polygamy that he had never seen before. He started the film, informed the class that we would take a 15-minute break, and walked out of the classroom. A few people got up and left, but the rest of us didn’t know what to do since the film was already started. The professor came back into the room a minute later and asked where the other students were. Someone reminded him that he had told us that we were on a break, and he responded that of course we were having the break now. He then asked why the movie had started. Kendra paused the movie, but he continued to ask someone to stop it three or four times. We kept insisting that the film was indeed on pause.

After the break, we watched the movie, which was a critique of Islamic polygamy in African culture. The professor was sleeping when I looked back at him during the film. When it was over, he opened the floor for questions and discussion. I asked him why the marabouts (Islamic religious leaders) encouraged the practice of polygamy, and he responded by staring blankly at me. He said that he had not understood the question, so I rephrased it (although I think it was pretty straight-forward to begin with). Once again, he talked about something unrelated for several minutes, all the while mixing English and French. He said, “Est-ce que did you understand?” When everyone said that they had understood, he asked, “Do I need to explain it in English?” Basically, that was a ridiculous experience.

Party Politics

2009-02-16T13:24:00.000-08:00

The political systems professor brought our class to visit several political party headquarters here in Dakar. We are each to choose one political party with whom to do an internship. First we visited le Parti de la Reforme (the Reform Party). Since we went there pretty early in the morning, not many of the party members had arrived yet. Our professor explained that this is the party of Abdourahim Agne, a politician who had once been the prime minister, but was thrown in prison by Abdoulaye Wade, the current president of Senegal. Some people believe that he was imprisoned for being too charismatic and stealing Wade’s thunder, while the official reason is that he was stealing money from the Senegalese people. This party now supports Abdoulaye Wade, since Agne was released from prison. It is easier to work with the party in power than to oppose it,

Our group then visited le Parti Socialiste du Senegal. This is the oldest party, as it was the party of Leopold Senghor, the first president of Senegal, following the nation’s independence in 1960. The socialists are now the opposition party and are not in power nationally. They boycotted the last elections, believing that Wade was guilty of voting fraud. The men who gave us a tour gave me a hat with a picture of Ousmane Tanor Dieng, the secretary general of the Socialist Party. I could see that there is a lot of history in this party, in its ups and downs. I have tentatively decided to write my history honors thesis about the Socialist Party. I talked to Professor Sene about this and he seemed to think it was a good idea. He told me that “l’histoire du Parti Socialiste est l’histoire du Senegal.” Or, “the history of the Socialist Party is the History of Senegal. He gave me the names of books to read and the number of one of his friends who is a member of the Party. I pretty excited about doing interviews and starting my research.

We also visited And-Jef, le Parti Africain pour la Democratie et le Socialisme, the League Democratique, and the Alliance des Froces du Progres. The latter had by far the nicest facilities of any of the parties we saw. The building was air-conditioned and beautifully decorated. It was the party founded Moustapha Niasse, who has been prime minister twice and ran for president again Abdou Diouf and Abdoulaye Wade in the 2000 election. Finally, we paid a visit to the Democratic Party, which is currently in power. Obviously they have the largest headquarters and the most manpower. There I had the chance to see the offices of some cabinet members and photos of the president with various current and former heads of states, including George Bush and Nicolas Sarkozy. I’m definitely looking forward to this internship!

Back to Church and Sandaga

2009-02-16T13:23:00.000-08:00

I went to Sandaga, a market in downtown Dakar with Allie, Leah, Alex, Lindsay, Katie and Tiffany. The market is full of people, shops, and outside vendors, making for a hectic atmosphere. There are men all over the places carrying around various items and hissing at people in hopes of getting their attention. If you express the slightest interest in something, you will never be left alone. Some of the vendors will follow you for several blocks trying to convince you to buy their merchandise. We split into two groups because I wanted to buy a sweatshirt while other people were in search of scarves and shoes. Tiffany came with me and we looked at several stores, and were followed around by several men trying to make a sale. We almost walked past a bunch off chickens with their ankles all tied together, writhing on the ground, but decided to go the other way. I think it was a bad omen. Tiffany and I then went off the main drag a bit and found some outdoor booths set up with piles of long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. We both found hooded sweatshirts that we really liked and bargained them down from 7,000 to 2,000. Tiffany’s host family was impressed with the final price; apparently her maid couldn’t stop talking about what a great deal we had gotten.

Sara and I went to church on Sunday, this time to the earlier mass. We ended up arriving an hour late, but still somehow made it in time for the homily. The church was completely packed, as were the pews that had been set up outside. There was also a very large crowd standing in the back. This time I only saw about five other toubabs. After the service some of the church members set up booths where you could purchase jewelry and baked goods. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming. Jacqueline, the women who had stopped to talk to us last week, was also glad to see us again.

Honoring the Elders

2009-02-06T14:40:00.000-08:00

When Sara and I returned home from school on Friday night, there was a huge stage with tents and chairs set up right in front of our house. When we asked Mariatou what was going on, she said that they were preparing for the party on Saturday. She explained that the party was to honor the elders of the village. I could tell that something was going on in the foyer with lots of people, but I couldn’t quite make what it was. Aminata told me that they had killed four cows for the party. Then I saw the heads. There was blood everywhere and body parts galore. Aminata led me into the house and had me cover my eyes since she knew I was vegetarian. That was nice of her, but it was really hard to miss the carnage. The next day the field outside our house was completely packed with people from all over the village. There was music and some sort of ceremony to honor the elders, but I couldn’t quite tell what was going on. All the children ran to me yelling, “Bonjour, toubab!” Sara and I wore our matching apple-baby outfits that the tailor had made for us, which our relatives insisted were “tres jolie!”

On Saturday we were supposed to go to the African drumming and dancing class with our brother Ousmane since we didn’t know the way. The next morning he had gone to school, but told our sister Ada to take us instead. Unfortunately she didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry to leave, and we ended up being an hour late to the class. When we arrived everyone else was dripping with sweat and said that they had learned a very difficult dance. The instructor worked with Sara and I for a couple of minutes to catch us up on the dance, but I don’t think we quite got it as well as everyone else who had been working on it for the past hour. Then for the last hour we worked on the drumming, which I found very difficult. I hope to improve next class!

On Sunday Sara and I went to church here in Ouakam. Unfortunately, we were quite late since we thought that the mass started at 12:00 rather than the actual time of 11:30. We made it just in time for communion. The church was about one-third to half full, and was 90% French people; even the priest was French. At the end, as we were walking out, a Senegalese woman came up to Sara and I and complimented us on our Senegalese outfits. She told us that next week we should come at 9am, because that’s when all of the African people go. She said that if we come at that time, the church will be full, and that there will be some sort of gathering afterwards. I am not looking forward to waking up that early on Sunday, but I am definitely looking forward to finding a church community here.

This morning my adorable one-year-old host niece, Khadi picked up my brush and tried to brush my hair with it. Precious. She’s the cutest little girl ever, but she’s very independent and gets into trouble. I would love to see her grow up, along with the other kids in the house. They can definitely be a handful, especially Omar. He likes to beat Sara and me up. He bites, kicks, and punches, but is also very cute. Sadaga has tons of energy and is always singing and saying cute things in Wolof. The other night, for example, Sara and I were discussing the meaning of the word “naankat” with our mother Basse and Sadaga said, “Naankat laa,” which means “I drink (alcohol) for my profession.” Tabara is adorable, but she eats everything! She ate Sara’s homework a couple of times and ate a small piece of the cover of her sign language book.

Ethiopian Food and Swimming

2009-02-06T14:11:00.001-08:00

Today Sara and I met Alex (another student on the MSU program) for lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant in Mermoz (the district closest to WARC where most of the students live). At first we had trouble finding the actual restaurant, but it turned out you had to go through a gate to what appeared to be someone’s house, then up a flight of stairs. The restaurant is on the roof and has very nice, traditional African-looking décor. The food was delicious, cheap, and gave us yet another opportunity to practice eating with our hands. Alice and Baird joined us after we were done eating and we headed over to the outdoor swimming pool. There are actually three pools, a kid’s pools, an Olympic size pool, and a diving pool. There is a 1-meter, a 3-meter, a 5-meter and a 10-meter diving board.

The water was freezing. There was almost no one else there, probably for that reason. Alice and Sara were braver than I was, and went off the diving board several times. I could barely bring myself to go off once, and found the water to be so cold that I frantically clambered out of the diving pool as soon as possible. I finally got into the big pool, but only swam two laps before I had to get out and shower. This was the first real shower I had in 3 weeks, and the water was lukewarm compared to the freezing pool water.

Visiting an Aunt

2009-02-06T14:10:00.001-08:00

Last night Sara and I went with Basse, Sadaga and Tabara to visit Basse’s older sister. She lives in a one-room house that has two beds, a couch, and a TV. Basse’s sister is divorced and has two grown children. She said she prefers working and earning money for herself over cooking and cleaning for a husband. I enjoyed talking to her about what it is like to be a toubab in Senegal. She said that children are afraid of toubabs at night because their skin seems to glow. Apparently it’s pretty common for toubabs to stay in Senegal and marry Senegalese. They said I reminded them of a Moroccan woman who married a Senegalese man and now lives in Dakar.

We also talked about rats; I swear I saw a cat-sized rat a couple of days ago, and Sara was there to back me up. Basse’s sister affirmed that they are common here because they eat so much. She also said that one of her relatives lives in New York and regularly sees similar rats. I’ve been getting used to living in close quarters with mice, but giant, flesh-eating rats is another story.

Sara and I played with Tabara and Sadaga for most of the time we were there, and Tabara ended up throwing up on me. After that we had dinner. It was fonde, but this time it was made with a peanut sauce rather than the usual warm milk sauce. I strongly prefer the peanut variety.

Obama

2009-02-06T14:08:00.001-08:00

On 20 January 2009, a black man was sworn in as President of the United States for the first time in history. The journey from slavery to the Emancipation Proclamation to the Black Codes to Jim Crow to Brown v. the Board of Education to the backlash of Klan violence to the Freedom Rides to continuing de facto segregation and the perpetuation of racial prejudice and subtle discrimination, has finally led us to this. I don’t know if it’s because George Bush was such a complete and utter failure as a president that he in essence gave us Barack Obama. I don’t know if the economy was so bad and Americans were so discouraged that they felt they had nowhere else to turn other than to the Democratic Party. I do know that the election of Barack Obama does not mean that racism is an evil of the past in the America of today. I do know that I was one of the hopeful college students who voted for Obama because I believed that he had the power to bring about positive societal change. I heard many people complain that his race should not matter; that it should play no factor at all in how a person votes, that it was no big deal. It is a big deal; there is no better place to see that than in Africa. Barack Obama didn’t just bring hope and inspiration to young Americans like me; he brought hope to people whose ancestors were sold into slavery and forced to live under the rule of colonial oppressors. We as a nation of Americans and we as global community of human beings have a long, long way to go toward the goal of erasing prejudice based on race. I firmly believe, however, that the election of Barack Obama represents a giant leap in that direction. On the day of the inauguration, our Wolof class was pushed forward so that we could watch the speech. All of us went over to Sarah and Meera’s house and watched it live on their family’s TV. The speech was dubbed into French, but there was a slight delay so that you could make out his words if you listened carefully. It was a great moment of solidarity to be here, in West Africa, in a room full of Americans, Canadians, and Senegalese, all celebrating a new president and a newfound hope.

Classes at WARC

2009-02-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

Classes have finally started! I am tentatively taking the following:

Wolof: Wolof is probably my favorite class. Our group is divided between two professors, so there are only six of us in the class. Since it’s so small, there is a lot of interaction and the professor forces each person to talk. I really want to learn Wolof because my host family speaks it ALL THE TIME, even to me. It can be really frustrating because I very rarely understand what they are saying. They wait for me to get it, and it’s generally embarrassing when I have to stare back blanking and say “degguma,” “I don’t understand.” I’ve gotten to the point where I can do the basic salutations and can pick out certain common words. With every Wolof lesson, more and more is becoming clear. I wish we had the class more than once a week!

African Political Systems: I really like this class. The professor is pretty funny and he has a lot of opinions about the politicians here. It turns out that level of corruption in Senegalese politics renders the South American soap operas that everyone watches here, well, relatively mild and straightforward. We also have to do an internship with one of the 144 political parties in Senegal. I’m definitely looking forward to that.

Conflict Resolution in Africa: I really like conflict resolution as well. The professor lectures in a logical order and writes an outline on the board, which helps me a lot. So far we’ve been discussing different types of conflicts on the continent and the root causes of them. We have to write a paper on one conflict in Africa; the list we were given to choose from is so long it’s discouraging.

History of the Senegambia: This class is too boring. There are only five of us in it, so you have to pay attention, but it’s tres difficile! I am interested in the subject, but sitting there for three hours is just too much. The professor uses a lot of English, apparently because he likes to practice, but it just takes up more time. Hopefully it will become more interesting soon…

History of Islam in Senegal: I am very interested in the subject, but again, three hours for one class is a lot for me. The professor started by giving a general overview of the tenants of Islam and history of how it started in the Middle East. I’m looking forward to learning more about how it took root in Senegal.

African Cinema: I missed the first class because I didn’t think I would be taken this, but then I figured out that I could probably get a French major if I took another three credit course here. Last week we watched a movie about a Senegalese man who receives a mandate for an amount of money but has a terrible time procuring it due to a stifling amount of administrative red tape. His illiterately and willingness to trust others with deceitful intentions place him in a state of constant setback and turmoil. The movie helped me put into perspective that it’s not just toubabs who get taken advantage of; it’s anyone in a weak position.

Dinner is Served

2009-02-06T14:04:00.000-08:00

On Sunday it was time to prepare the big meal for all the other Americans. Maman Mariatou took Sara and I to the market, where we bought vegetables, spices and more fish for the cheb-u-jen. When we came home, our sister Binta showed us how to prepare the vegetables. We put all of them in a large bowl of water and pealed each one with a knife. I didn’t recognize all of the vegetables, but I know there were garlic, onions, potatoes, yams, eggplant, hot peppers, and cabbage. Our sister Ada put the garlic, peppers, and spices into a wooden mortar and ground them up with a pestle. She then stuffed the paste she had created into the insides of the freshly scaled fish. Sara and I took turns placing the fish into the vat of oil over the gas flame. I was shocked the first time I put the fish in because it created a loud hissing noise.

It took about three hours to make the cheb-u-jen. We cooked the rice and he vegetables in large metal pots outside, over burning logs. The vegetables and fish were cooked in a tomato paste and palm oil sauce. Once the rice was cooked, and there was a TON of rice, we poured it into the pot with the fish and vegetables. That was kind of hard because it burned my eyes to be near the wood and you had to be careful to pour it in gently so that the boiling sauce would not splash up. We made so much that it filled four giant metal bowls. In the middle of each bowl, we arranged the fish and vegetables so that there was roughly the same amount in each one, and so that they looked pretty.

All 10 of the other students in our program, plus the two medical students came, and were waiting in our living room. Mariatou instructed us to bring two of the bowls into parlor for the Americans. We also bought Fanta, Sprite, and Coke for everyone to share. I think everyone liked the meal and it was cool to have people over to see our house. The only down side was that after it was over, Mariatou asked us why we didn’t offer her and the rest of the family the drinks we had bought. We set them out as a self-serve kind of thing, but I guess we should have more directly offered them to people. The culture of sharing is really important here; you are supposed to share almost everything you have, but sometimes it’s hard to know where the lines are.

Back to Ngor

2009-02-01T08:45:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, Sara and I returned to Ile de Ngor with our brothers Mandoye, Ousmane, and Oldman. First we took a carrapide to Yoff, a fisherman’s beach. There, we met up with Mandoye’s uncle, a fisherman by trade. While Sara went to the ATM with Oldman, Ousmane, Mandoye and I watched a French rugby match on their uncle’s TV. I was flattered when the uncle (his name escapes me) asked me if I were French or Belgian. I try my best to hide my American accent, but it usually slips through, especially if I don’t know exactly what I want to say. The uncle proceeded to tell me all about fishing and different fishing techniques; he even showed me some of the equipment. When Sara and Oldman returned we went downstairs and the uncle showed us some freshly caught fish. Mandoye told us that we should buy two fish for the next day’s meal. In response to Aminata’s suggestion, Sara and I had invited all of the students from our program to have lunch at our house on Sunday (we were to cook and pay for the meal). We agreed to buy the fish and would come back later to pick them up. Ousmane, Oldman, Sara and I then took one of the motor canoe-type boats over to the Ile de Ngor. We walked around the beach a bit and had lunch at the same little seaside outdoor restaurant where we had gone with the Americans. We also ran into the same dog that was there last time.

The Wedding Reception

2009-02-01T06:50:00.001-08:00

On Friday our family took us to a wedding reception for “la petit sœur,” which means cousin, of Aminata, Ada, and Binta. Since Sara and I had nothing to wear, our sister Aminata volunteered to take us to the tailor to have outfits made. My host mother Mariatou said she already bought us fabric—it was a pale yellow color with babies in baskets and apples on it, outlined in orange. It’s not a fabric I ever would have chosen for myself, but it was nice of her to have bought it for us.

First, we went to a tailor who had several nice looking outfits already finished. Sara tried on a white and teal dress, and I tried out a brown and green one, both of which I thought looked nice. Aminata had a heated argument with the tailor in Wolof, and concluded that his prices were too high. All the while, Aminata’s one-year-old daughter Khadi was playing with sowing machines, the volume on the radio, and anything she could find. I was concerned. When the tailor apparently refused to lower the price to her liking, Aminata decided we should find a new tailor.

We then went to her aunt’s fabric store and picked out two different patterns, and paid 15,000 francs for both. Aminata claimed that was a good price, and that it was so low because she was relative. While we were looking at the fabrics, I asked how much it would cost to have a whole outfit made, and Aminata responded that it was very cheap; she said she only paid 2,000 to have hers made. We went to the tailor next door, which I remembered from a week past when I walked by there with Aminata and she said, “that’s my tailor.” I wonder why we didn’t just go there in the first place. Anyway, we picked out the patterns we wanted for the two fabrics we had purchased and for the apple-baby pattern. The tailor said it would cost 25,000 cfa to have three outfits made, which is $50 American. I was not at all happy with this price, and said maybe I just wouldn’t have him make all three outfits. Ultimately, the tailor lowered the price to 20,000 cfa, which I still found to be too expensive. Aminata insisted that it was a good price, however, and I felt pressured into agreeing. I had an uneasy feeling about this, since I think that the price I ended up getting for the outfits was higher than the price offered at the first tailor, the one where Aminata stormed out indignantly in response to the high prices.

When we can home, we told Sara’s mother Basse how much we had paid for the clothes. Basse responded that we the prices were way too high. She said, “I thought I told you never to go shopping with Aminata!” Apparently she had told Sara not to give money to Aminata, but we did not know that also meant not to go shopping with her. Basse said that she thinks Aminata had some sort of deal with the tailor and used the excess money to buy another outfit for herself. This made me very uncomfortable; I wasn’t sure who to trust and did not like the feeling of division within the family, and worse of being taken advantage of.

It gets worse. That night Aminata picked up the dresses for the wedding from the tailor. When I saw them, I almost cried. Sara and I had almost identical, Chinese looking outfits. Mine was huge, and somewhat resembled a moo-moo, only with a collar. I have never seen a Senegalese outfit with a collar. We put on the outfits; they were still hideous. Sara asked me, “On a scale of 1-10, how bad is it?” I said I didn’t know and asked her the same question. “Let’s just go,” she said.

No one ever seems to tell us what’s going on, so we didn’t know whether or not we had time to put on some make-up and do our hair. As we were pondering this, our brothers came and told us we were leaving right then. We took a taxi over to the reception, which was outside but under a large tent with lighting. It looked pretty similar to an American wedding reception, with everyone dressed nicely and sitting at long tables. I was humiliated and scared to walk in, given the hideous dress I was wearing and the fact that I had a twin, the only other toubab (white person) in the whole place. Everyone else looked gorgeous and no one was wearing anything remotely similar to what we were wearing.

We sat there awkwardly for several minutes, until the bride came and everyone stood up. The photographers took about a million pictures of the wedding party, as everyone else sat there and talked. Once the photos were over, the women in our family told us we had to go congratulate the bride. We waited in line, shook hands with a bunch of people we didn’t know and posed for an incredibly awkward photo with the bride and our sisters. In the picture I have a look of terror in my face. When Alice and Baird saw the picture, they nearly died laughing. Good times.

Fonde and the Velour Jump Suit

2009-02-01T06:45:00.000-08:00

This is Africa so it’s supposed to be really hot, right? Not really. It’s not THAT cold, but it’s been in the high 50s, low 60s for most of the time I’ve been here. Silly me; I didn’t think it would ever be lower than 80 degrees, so I didn’t bring many warm clothes. I’ve ended up having to buy a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Sara had the same problem, so the two of us went to a nearby boutique so that she could buy jeans. Senegalese people are really, really skinny, so Sara and I are size XL and XXL here. Sara found one pair of jeans that fit her and were also really nice, so she bought them for 9,000 cfa, which is about $18 American. She also got a longed sleeved shirt that was some good brand in the US for 5,000 cfa ($10).

When we came home Sara showed her new purchases to our sister Aminata. Aminata flipped out when she heard how much Sara had paid, insisting that it was way too much. “We’re going back right now!” declared Aminata. As we walked out of the house, Aminata was already in the process of creating an elaborate lie to tell Idi, the man at the boutique. She would say that Sara had purchased the jeans as a gift for her birthday, but that she did not like the color. I tried to explain that Sara actually really wanted the jeans, and that there weren’t many other options in her size. The story was especially absurd given the fact that when we were in the store it was obvious that Sara was buying the jeans for her self, asking “Do these look good on me?” I don’t think Aminata was listening.

Upon entering the boutique, Aminata was already engaged in a heated argument with Idi in Wolof. During this time Idi repeatedly apologized to Sara and I, telling us it wasn’t our fault that that Aminata was crazy and upset about the price. Aminata told Sara to pick something else in exchange for the jeans. She suggested a brown velour jump suit with white stitching and pick flowers on it. Idi tried to say that the jump suit was too expensive to trade it for the jeans, but Aminata insisted. Wanting desperately to leave the boutique and the awkwardness, Sara agreed to take the jump suit. Later Sara admitted that she never had been a huge fan of velour jump suits. It actually looked cute on her, though. A few days later we went back and Sara bought back the same jeans that Aminata had returned. This time we haggled them down to 7,500 francs cfa.

That night dinner was fonde. Fonde is a gray soup with tiny white balls floating in it. I was proud of myself for trying it the first time, and it actually tastes better than it looks. It’s very sweet, and apparently if you eat a lot of it, you will have a large butt. Everyone in the family thinks I’m strange because I don’t like milk and I don’t like to add about 50 sugar cubes to everything I eat. One night I made the mistake of eating plain couscous—not the kind we’re used to in the states; this kind in based in meal, so it’s quite grainy. The family was having couscous with sauce and chicken, which was probably quite good, but respecting my vegetarianism, they gave me my own bowl of it plain. They told me to add water, powered milk, and several sugar cubes. In my head, that sounded far worse than just eating it plain, so I said I liked it the way it was. It was literally like eating a bowl of sand. I could hardly force myself to eat it, and I ended up breaking down and adding some sugar, which did make it better. Anyway, back to the Fonde.

Since Sara and I came home late from the ordeal at the boutique, our sisters had saved some fonde for us. They gave us two large bowls of it (Sara’s was in the same small bucket that usually lives in the bathroom and can be used either for bathing or for other cleansing procedures). Again respecting my strange eating habits, they left sugar out of my portion. This made it worse. Also, fonde is not bad hot, but lukewarm, I didn’t think I was going to make it. A nice feature of the communal eating situation is that you can make it look like you are eating more than you are and nothing goes to waste. When you are given your own bowl, you have to do your best to eat the whole thing. I asked Sara what I should do; “I just don’t think I can eat this.” She suggested I pour it down the squat toilet. I felt terrible, but I decided that was the best option. I hope no one noticed.

Day Trip to Ngor

2009-02-01T06:41:00.000-08:00

As our classes had yet to start, 10 of us decided to check out the Ile de Ngor, which is a really nice beach north of Ouakam. Sara and I went with our brother, Mandoye, who was headed to Yoff, the beach on the other side of the water from N’gor. Once at Yoff the three of us stopped by Mandoye’s uncle’s house briefly, just to say hello; he is a fisherman and lives right by the water. We then walked down the beach and met the group of Americans. Mandoye chatted with them for a couple of minutes and then went on his way. The rest of us bought tickets for the boat ride to the island, which costs 500 cfa ($1). The boats are motorized but they resemble large, colorful canoes.

After hopping out of the boat and returning our orange life vests, we immediately began searching for a restaurant. We passed an expensive-looking Italian one, but kept walking in hopes of finding something cheaper. A woman carrying a large basket full of colorful necklaces and bracelets on her head insisted on being our unofficial tour guide. We followed her for a ways, and a few people ended up buying some of her jewelry. I didn’t buy anything, but she gave me a free beaded necklace because I happened to be standing with the people who did buy stuff.

On the other side of the island there was a row of tiny outdoor restaurants. Several people came up to us, showing us their menus and telling us to eat at their place. When we found the nicest looking restaurant, that also happened to have the cheapest prices, we decided that was a winner and sat down. The food was amazing. I ordered monkfish kabobs with a mélange of French fries, rice, and salad. That meal plus two Fantas cost 3,000 francs cfa, or $6. It was really nice to being sitting on the beach, looking out at the gorgeous water and palm trees, eating a delicious meal, surrounded by really cool people. The one thing that detracted from the dining experience was the constant presence of vendors putting their products on the table, trying to make us buy more trinkets.

When we were done eating we agreed to pay 2,000 francs, split between ten people, to sit on a couple of mats under umbrellas. We talked for a while and played a couple of card games, and a few crazy people (Katie, Alex, and Sarah) went swimming in the freezing water. A friendly dog came up and tried to play with us. At first I was scared to touch him, but he looked clean and was wearing a collar so I gave in. When we decided it was time to go, the mat/umbrella guy told us we had to pay 4,000 francs, rather than the original 2,000. I guess it was a misunderstanding, but it sure felt like we were being ripped off. Overall though, it was a great day at the beach.

Pink Lake and Keur Moussa Monastery

2009-01-26T13:47:00.000-08:00

On 10 January the MSU program visited Lac Rose (Pink Lake) and Keur Moussa Monastery. That day it seemed like we were on the bus forever. I think it took a couple of hours to get to the monastery, which I enjoyed. When we arrived, we attended the 11:00 mass. The mass was very similar to the English mass I am used to at my church in Ann Arbor, except that the monks began with Gregorian chants. I’ve always been a fan of Gregorian chanting, so I thought it was awesome to hear that here. They also play traditional African instruments during the service. The order of the service was the same, as were the responses, although they were in French. I tried to follow along best I could; even I did not know the prayers in French, I could understand them and see how similar they were in meaning to the English.

After the mass we took a tour of the monastery. The monks raise their own animals and grow their own fruits and vegetables, as it was meant to be a self-sustaining community. Our tour guide walked us through fields of various plants and trees and showed us the pigpen. We had the opportunity to sample the cumquats and grapefruits, which were absolutely delicious. For lunch was chicken, so I just ate more grapefruit in keeping with the vegetarian thing. It really was the best grapefruit I ever had, though.

Next we visited Lac Rose. The lake is actually pink, I believe due to the very heavy concentration of salt. There is so much salt that there is a fluffy film over the water that resembles a bubble bath. I picked up some of this fluff and found it very salty/filmy to the touch. Apparently Pink Lake is a giant tourist trap, so we were mobbed by vendors. They told us they were giving us “gifts” such as more sand paintings and necklaces, but then proceeded to ask for money. Several of the male vendors asked female students to marry them. It turns out that this practice is very common, since it’s near impossible to get a visa to the US, and marrying an American is one way to seriously improve your chances.

Once we left Lac Rose the WARC bus took us to some sand dunes. We all ran up the hill, and got some prickly things stuck in our feet. It reminded me a lot of Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan, only there were camels and palm trees in the near vicinity. Waly (another program assistant) busted out a drum and we made a dance circle. Everyone took turns looking silly in the middle.

Family Tree

2009-01-26T13:45:00.001-08:00

Before I arrived in Senegal, I received a description of the family, Famille Manel Fall. That description said that Manel and his wife Basse live with two of Manel’s uncles, Djbril and Djoulam, Djbril’s wife Fatou, and their 2 year-old son Omar. Actually, those are some of the people who live in la petite maison. The description was a couple of years old, and now Manel and Basse have two daughters, Sadaga (2.5 years) and Tabara (6 months). Djibril and Fatou also have a second son, Mansour who is one-year-old. That’s the small house.

Fifteen people (including me) live in the grande maison. After several days of confusion as to who was who (made especially difficult by the near constant presence of neighbors and family members who don’t actually live in the house) I decided to write down all the names and make sort of family tree. I did this with the help of some of my host brothers and sisters.

So Mariatou is the mother of family. Her husband Momar passed away several years ago, and now she lives in the house with her six children, their children, and some spouses and other relatives. Mandoye is the oldest son, around thirty; he lives here with his wife Niota and their two sons Ousmane (2.5 years) and Momar (tiny, just a couple of months at most). Next are Aminata and her one-year-old daughter Khadi. Aminata’s husband Mamadou is at the house frequently but lives elsewhere. Le grand Ousmane, not to be confused with le petit Ousmane is my 25-year-old brother. He shares a room Mamadou (not Aminata’s husband), who is a cousin staying here to study at University Cheikh Anta Diop. Ada is a year younger than Ousmane and shares a room with her three-year-old son Babacar and Rohaya, Basse’s younger cousin. Ada’s husband is in the military and lives far away, from what I understand. Oldman (his real name is Mbaye but Oldman is a nickname his grandfather had and passed on to him) is the next brother, who is 22 and shares a room with Mbaye, another university student (I’m not sure if or how he is related to the family). The youngest daughter is Binta, who is 16, and seems to do most of the work, Whew.

Halloween Musulman

2009-01-26T13:43:00.000-08:00

On the night of the Muslim New Year, Sara and I went out for a walk around Ouakam with our brothers Ousmane and Oldman and our cousin Mamadou. The streets were full of people drumming and dancing. Many of the children had painted their faces white (I think to make themselves look scary) and walked around in groups beating drums and sticks. I also saw my fair share of men wearing traditional Senegalese women’s clothing.

The five of us made a stop at the home of an elderly aunt and uncle. Instead of a door we walked through a curtain to enter the small home. We sat in the living room and tried to learn a bit more Wolof from the elders, although I’ve been finding it very difficult to retain much. Someone brought in several glasses and bottles of Coke and instructed me to serve them to everyone. That was how I learned that when you serve food to or shake hands with an older person, you are supposed to bend your knees out of respect.

Ile de Goree

2009-01-26T13:40:00.000-08:00

On 7 January Sara and I had to meet the other students at WARC to go on a field trip to Goree Island. It was our first time going from our house to WARC, so our brother Ousmane showed us the way. We had to walk across the dust field and then a short ways down a road to an intersection. This is where we were to take the “carrapide.” The carrapide is a large colorful van with no glass on the windows. It is bright blue and yellow and has words such as “alxxamduliah” (thanks to God) painted on it. You enter through the door on the back, which is always open and has people hanging off (kind of like a cable car in San Francisco). The first time I got on the carrapide I was sort of nervous, since it seemed so rickety. People are squeezed on like sardines; if you think there is room for 4 people to sit on a bench, 6 or 7 will sit there. People are always offering me a place where to me there is no place at all, so that I end up partially sitting on someone’s lap. The stop nearest to WARC is Post Fann, and from there it is about a 15 minute walk.

Our group headed to Goree Island to visit the Slaves House and the Women’s Museum. We went on a guided tour of the place where slaves were held before being sent overseas to the Americas. There were several cement rooms with no windows, beds, or toilets where people were categorized and kept based on gender and age. There was a jail of sorts, or room for solitary confinement. One of the rooms had an opening in the wall that led directly to the Atlantic Ocean. Our tour guide, Laty explained that leaving through that space was always a one-way journey.

The visit to Ile de Goree also marked our first experience with being hounded by vendors trying to sell us an assortment of drums, statues, jewelry, artwork and various article of traditional-looking garb. Almost everyone, if not everyone in our group bought sand painting after witnessing a very cool demonstration of how different colored sand is sprinkled over glue on a canvass to make a very pretty picture.

The sand art was cool, but we really didn’t want to buy much if anything beyond that. The vendor comes up and says, “I give you very good price!” Usually this is in reference to something unwanted, useless, and mass-produced. When you say “Non, merci” and keep walking, the price gets lower and lower. This happened to me just as we were about to leave the Island, while waiting for the ferry. A man came up and asked if I wanted to buy a wooden turtle. I didn’t want or need said turtle, but I was in a good mood so I said, “How much?” He told me it was 20,000 francs CFA, which is roughly 40 USD. I responded that that was way to expensive. When he asked me how much I was willing to pay, I divided the price by 10 and said “2,000” as joke. He laughed and said that was too low, but since I really didn’t need the turtle and was just having fun, I stuck to that price. He lowered it to 15, then 10, then 5, but I still said 2 or nothing. I walked away and just as I was about to get onto the boat he ran up to me and agreed to sell it for 2,500. I bought the turtle for 2,400. I guess he was really desperate, or the turtle was worth next to nothing. From that point on, though, I’ve had quite a lot of fun with haggling.

My Senegalese Family

2009-01-26T13:38:00.001-08:00

The days in my UCAD guesthouse apartment had come to an end and it was time to move in with my host family. I was pretty nervous about this, not knowing what to expect. I, along with one other American student, Sara, was assigned to Famille Manel Fall in Touba Ouakam, which is a more traditional neighborhood in comparison to other regions of Dakar. Ouakam is farther away from WARC than any of the other districts where students are placed to live, so at first I was a bit worried about having to walk for over an hour there and back everyday.

The WARC bus dropped off each student at her host family, and since Sara and I were the farthest away, we were the first to leave the artificial comfort of the air-conditioned, American-filled bus. The bus pulled up to a large field of dirt where groups of men and boys were playing football (our soccer). A commanding, magnificent baobab tree stood at the foot of the field. On the other end was our new home.

A plethora of small children and several goats greeted us as we descended the bus. There was a row of cement homes that did not appear to be separated from each other, at least from the front view. Josephine led us through a gate into a pathway, or courtyard of sorts where we met Papa Manel (who is only 38 years old) and Mama Mariatou, who I believe is Manel’s aunt. It turns out that there are actually two houses separated by an outdoor pathway and gate, but occupied by the same family. I was assigned a room in la grande maison where Mariatou lives and Sara was placed in la petite maison with Manel.

Right as you walk into the house, there is a large family room on the left-hand side. It has chairs and couches and a TV. I’ve discovered that nearly everyone has a TV, even if he has nothing else. The next room on the left is my room. It’s simple with a tile floor, a bed, a small dresser and a window. The walls are a yellow-orange color, and could definitely use a paint job given the amount of marks and stains. A white curtain with red flowers hangs in front of the window. Instead of a mattress, my bed is a stained foam pad covered in a blue striped sheet. It took me several days to discover that I actually have two sheets; I suffered many a cold night as a result of my ignorance.

Neither my house nor Sara’s has a western-style toilet. Instead, there is a hole in the floor surrounded on both sides by porcelain foot imprints. In my bathroom (the one shared by 25 people), there is no shower, but there is a bucket that you fill with water and a smaller bucket that is used to pour the water over your head for a bath. The door to the bathroom does not reach the floor and has several holes in it. I use Sara’s bathroom whenever possible because it has a door that closes and is generally cleaner. There is also no sink the bathroom, so I brush my teeth outside and spit into an outdoor drain, rinsing with tap water. A lot of people here chew on special sticks instead of using toothbrushes; I’ve been told that that actually does a better job of keeping teeth clean.

Once Sara and I had finished unpacking we went out into the back yard, which is the ground for raising goats, chickens, and pigeons. Manel showed us the pigeon coup and explained some things about raising animals, how to count in Wolof, and why he prefers Wolof to French. He explained that French was the language of the colonizers and the bourgeoisie, so he did not like to speak it at home with his family. This makes perfect sense, but also rendered me a bit disappointed, given that I came here to improve my French. Manel claims that Sara and I will be fluent in Wolof in a matter of months. I also ended up talking to Manel about Islam, Barack Obama, and the corruption in the current Senegalese presidential administration.

For lunch we had cheb-u-jin again, which is now definitely my favorite Senegalese dish. This time fully 12 people were sitting around one metal bowl. There is a sweet sauce and a spicy sauce kept in smaller bowls that people periodically pour onto the rice in front of them. I like both, but prefer the spicy one. It was rather awkward at first, as I didn’t understand any Wolof and could not follow the mealtime conversation. Also, I was in Africa eating lunch with my new family of people I’d never met before. It was a bit surreal to let it sink in that I would be living here for the next 5 months.

Manel gave me a plastic bag filled with a bag of powered milk, Chocomousse (a chocolate spread that people put on everything, well mostly bread), a box of sugar cubes, and a tub of butter. He said it was for breakfast, which confused me a little since there was no bread product with it. It turns out that every morning someone gives me a baguette and a mug of hot water. I’m supposed mix the powered milk with the water for some nice warm milk, but I hate milk and always have so I got some instant Nescafe to make it more bearable.

That night the women were preparing couscous for the following day, which was the Muslim New Year. They explained that it was similar to Halloween, in that children dress up in costumes, and also men dress as women and vice versa. Also, everyone eats couscous. Mariatou had Sara and I take pictures of ourselves “cooking” the couscous.

Tour of Dakar

2009-01-26T13:33:00.000-08:00

Now we’re up to 5 January. Today was the tour of Dakar on the WARC bus. We visited several beaches and monuments and important places, which unfortunately are a bit fuzzy in my head at this point. I do remember hitting my head pretty hard on a cement statue; there was a narrow pathway leading you beneath the statue and I was looking down to avoid falling off, completely missing the hanging cement bar that necessitates ducking. After that, our group stopped to see the Senegalese equivalent of the White House, and had our picture taken with the stone-faced guard outside the iron gate. We also went to the bank to exchange and take out money; I lost quite a bit on the conversion, so I next time I’ll wait for the ATM. This was also the day to buy Senegalese cell phones.

Orienation and Wrestling Match

2009-01-26T13:31:00.000-08:00

I was especially grateful to have slept so much given the packed schedule for the following day. All 12 of us, with the new arrivals having slept for roughly 3 hours, met downstairs at noon. We were then taken on the WARC bus to the home of Mme Honorine for the cultural orientation. Mme Honorine is in charge of coordinating the host family placements and serving as a liaison between American students and the Senegalese families. As there is a multitude of cultural differences between these two parties, Mme Honorine provides orientations for both, to help make the transition a bit less awkward and confusing.

We sat in a circle on colorful mats on the roof of her house. Honorine told us stories of American students who had been kicked out of their host family homes for refusing to shower. Apparently personal hygiene is very important to the Senegalese (although I thought it was the same for Americans, too...). She told us how important sharing is to Senegalese culture, repeating that if we don’t share with our families, “they will hate you.” She said that if you have a banana or a piece of fruit, you must offer it to everyone, or else “they will hate you.” If you want to eat something and not share, you must remain outside the home. If they find candy wrappers from sweets you failed to share, “they will hate you.” You are never to call someone a liar, or else “they will hate you.” After all this, I’m not going to lie, I was pretty nervous.

Josephine gave all the girls Senegalese skirts and all the boys, I mean boy, Senegalese pants. To be fair, there were three males present, the one from our program, one medical student from a different program, also through MSU, and a doctor who was working with the medical students. But most of the time, Baird (it’s Scottish) is the only male.

Then, it was lunchtime. Mme Honorine brought up several large, wide, metal bowls filled with rice in red sauce. In the middle of each bowl were fish, eyes and all, cut in half and prominently displayed. Surrounding the fish was an array of cooked vegetables, which I think included cabbage, carrots, potatoes, yams, and several others that I was unable to identify. This particular dish is called “cheb-u-jin” which means “fish with rice.” Instead of serving each person individually with plates and forks, here people eat in a far more communal fashion. The bowl is placed on the floor and everyone sits around it. You eat with your right hand (the left hand is considered dirty, so it is a huge faux-pas to eat with your left hand). You pick up a handful of rice with your right hand and squeeze it into a ball, then eat it. This proved exceptionally difficult for a group of inexperienced Americans. The journey of the rice to the mouth is especially tricky, and I ended up with little bits of rice all over my new African skirt.

I’ve been a vegetarian for almost 11 years now, but I’ve decided to eat fish during this trip (as I sometimes do in the States). As Dakar is a costal city, fish is a very common food source and nearly impossible to avoid. I’m going to try my best not to eat any other meat, though. Interestingly, 8 out of 12 of us were vegetarian before this trip. I’m the only one who is attempting, for better or for worse, to stick with it (with the exception of fish).

After the cultural orientation our group headed to the nearby stadium for a wrestling match. Apparently wrestling is a very popular sport in Senegal. It was not what I expected. The stadium was packed and the atmosphere was electric. At first I was super excited to be there, as the drumming, singing, and dancing that engulfed the stadium was so new and exciting. There were different groups of men wearing white uniforms and others sporting more traditional ensembles dancing to different beats, while different groups of women sang Senegalese songs. There was so much happening at once, and so much to look at and hear that I was captivated. This went on for a very, very long time, however, with no actual…wrestling.

Five matches had been lined up for the night, and I was beginning to wonder when they would start. It turned out that I nearly missed the first one because it started with no announcement, no warning, and was over in a maximum of 30 seconds. The two men, covered in milk, squared off in a ring of sand and began by batting at each other like two cats pawing at one another (at least that’s how it looked to me). They then proceeded to knock each other down, so that I could not tell who had won. The first match was over so fast that I missed the end because I was attempting to take a picture of the fight. The drumming and singing continued for long intervals in between each match. Someone on the other side of the stadium lit a giant torch following the victory “Double Less N 2” over “Dolf” in the penultimate match. The whole affair lasted a bit longer than three hours, and was definitely a learning experience for me.

Back at the UCAD guesthouse, Alice and I had a good time discussing the matches, among other things. We ended up staying up until around 3am (although neither of us could bring ourselves to look at the time) because we couldn’t shut up. We alternated saying “okay, it’s really time to go to sleep now…” The morning hurt. But it was a good conversation, so ce n’est pas grave.

First Taste of Dakar

2009-01-26T13:24:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Dakar, Senegal on 3 January 2009, along with three other girls, Alice, Leah, and Tiffany. We are all students participating in the Michigan State University study abroad program “French and African Studies in Western Africa.” There are 12 of us total in the program, 4 from MSU, 7 from University of Michigan, and 1 from Nebraska Wesleyan.

Alice, Leah, Tiffany and I left for Senegal one day earlier than the other students. This was simply because the Friday flight was significantly cheaper than the Saturday flight that arrived on 4 January, the day program began. I am very glad to have had that extra day.

When the South African Airways plane landed at 6:00 am Dakar time, 1:00 am EST, needless to say we were tired. The four of us were met by Josephine and Awa, study abroad program assistants from WARC (West African Research Center). Unfortunately Leah’s luggage had been sent to Johannesburg, so she dealt with that fiasco while the rest of us made small talk and tried not to fall asleep. Once that had been taken care of, Josephine and Awa took us to nearby bakery where we had out fill of croissants and various assorted pastries. There, Leah discovered that she had a mysterious black substance all over her hands and face. Upon returning from the bathroom after cleaning up, she declared, “Ce n’est pas mon jour.” I don’t know if that expression works the same in French, but everyone knew what she meant.

We then took taxis to the University Cheikh Anta Diop (UCAD) Guest House, where we would be spending the next four nights. After carrying luggage up several flights of winding stairs, we were each assigned individual rooms. By rooms I mean something more like apartments. They each had their own kitchen, nice living room, balcony, bathroom and bedroom with air-conditioning. Standing on my balcony I had a gorgeous view of the ocean, white sand and palm trees. Alice’s balcony boasted a lovely view of a crumbling cement building.

Left alone in my room, I immediately fell asleep and did not wake until Alice phoned me 7 hours later to suggest going for a walk. I took shower, managed to flood the bathroom and a large portion of my bedroom, got dressed, and met the others in hopes of exploring. We tried unsuccessfully to find the beach, which turned out to be blocked by a wall that was invisible from the balcony. It was still a nice walk, despite that dream-like, displaced, newly arrived feeling that I was still experiencing.

That night the four of us ventured out to a nearby restaurant where we ordered pizza and Coke (I stupidly opted for the significantly smaller yet doubly expensive Perrier). The pizza was not bad, or “dece” (an abbreviation for decent that had become widespread among members of our group), but the cheese was different and the whole thing was accompanied by mustard, ketchup, and an unidentifiable chunky brown sauce. After a bit of confusion concerning whether or not or how much to tip, we gave the waiter what I think is a pretty good pour-boire, and left awkwardly.

When we returned to the UCAD guesthouse we got together in my room to play cards. Thankfully Tiffany brought me an extra towel to help with the flood situation. As we were in the midst of playing a rousing game of BS, I received a phone call from the front desk instructing me to tell the others that we needed to share the rooms “deux par deux” because they needed all of rooms for the other students who would be arriving in the wee hours of the next morning. Alice moved her stuff into my room, while Leah moved into Tiffany’s room. When all was settled, we were very lucky to have the option of going to bed at reasonable hour and enjoy a good night’s sleep. Everyone else who arrived that morning missed out on that luxury.