There are a lot of animals around here. Most of them are goats or sheep, which are sometimes hard to tell apart because the sheep are always shorn. There is a sheep tethered to a tree by my house, whom I hear bleat at odd hours, including late at night. Often when I am walking down the street I hear sheep or goats behind the outer walls of people's houses.
There are also a large number of chickens. As I am writing this I just heard a rooster crow. There are signs in various neighborhoods advertising "vente de poulet," or chicken meat for sale, and I pass a stall on the way to ACI where a man chops up chicken meat. The other day I saw a smart kitty waiting for scraps during a sale. I also pass another similar stall where a man chops up what looks like mutton. I often see him sawing through bones with a hacksaw. One also occasionally sees ducks, like the ones that I saw on our first full day here that were being carried by the bases of their wings by a man who walked down the street.
I have also seen one or two men on the street carrying small cages made of wood and wire full of sparrows and other small birds for sale. They generally do not seem at all pleased by their arrangement. There are a variety of little birds. This morning as we were eating breakfast I saw a sparrow looking at his reflection in the window. Thankfully he didn't try to attack it. The other day I saw what I think was a female goldfinch, although it could have been any kind of mostly yellow bird. There are also the tiny red breasted birds, and I once saw a teeny tiny bird with a hooked beak that looked like it fulfilled a similar niche to a hummingbird. There was a large number of pigeons or doves on Ile de Gorée, which I occasionally see here. They sound very similar to mourning (or is it morning?) doves.
I think my favorite wild birds are the hawks and crows. The hawks on Ile de Gorée flew low over the water and occasionally swooped down to get a fish. Their voice was an odd combination of a red tailed hawk and a gull. On the ferry I also saw a number of what looked like turns flying around in the harbor. The crows here are about the same size as ours, but they look like they are wearing white bibs, complete with the tie around their neck. The other day I saw a pigeon chasing one across the road. I notice more birds all the time. I need a bird book.
I have mentioned the horses before. They are all fairly small, particularly compared to the horses that one usually sees being used to pull carts. They are also usually skinny enough to see their ribs. I wonder what they eat? There might be enough dry grass around for the sheep and goats to scrounge on, but it doesn't seem like that would be enough for the horses, skinny or otherwise.
Then, of course, there are the dogs and cats. I have yet to see an individual of either species that is fat. Most range from lean to downright skinny, and are wary of humans. The dogs and cats on Ile de Gorée were unusually healthy looking, with reason. The island might be renamed "Toubab Central" for the number of tourists that were there. In fact, most of the people that we saw on the island were either tourists or were there to sell to tourists. The vendeurs there were particularly aggressive on the top of the hill, where they descended on us like vulchers. They somehow got Alexis to not only buy stuff, but to give them some of her earrings.
The reason why the animals were so healthy became clear when we were at lunch. Shortly after our food arrived a small brown and gray tabby walked under the table. For the rest of the meal he sat at Jessl's feet while she fed him about half of her fish, and part of mine. She named him Sebastian and fed him bits of skin and eyeballs that she didn't want to eat herself. I am sure that there are regular territorial disputes between cats for the right to sit under those tables.
When the part of the group that I was with and I were near the top of the hill talking to one of many artists who sold paintings to tourists, a dog wandered up to us. He was quite handsome, with blond fur and gorgeous almond-shaped amber eyes. He seemed quite appreciative of being pet, too. When he wandered away from us I saw evidence of why most dogs shy from humans: two boys threw small rocks at him when he tried to jump on them in greeting.
On the beach I was looking for bits of smoothed glass in the sand when another boy-dog came up to me. He looked a little less healthy than the dog on the top of the hill, but he was still quite friendly. He was the same blond color as his co-habitent, and was very good at leaning. He followed me back to the rest of the LC people who were hanging out on the beach, and Kelly joined me in enthusiastically petting him. She named him Bruce. Katherine doesn't like dogs and so didn't know what to do when he said hello to her, walking on top of her legs and sticking his nose in her face. Kelly and I had to explain that dog manners aren't the same as human ones, and they aren't offended if you shove them aside. Katie was also rather startled to wake up from her nap to find a dog standing next to her. When the group got too big as other LC people joined us on the beach he ran off. I was sad that the battery in my camera had died before I could take a picture of him.
I was worried that I would have to come to the island every time I needed a dog fix, but I visited Katie's house the next day, and her family has two dogs, smallish girl-dogs. Katie says that they don't really serve any function for the household, which is very unusual for Senegal. The humans sometimes play with them, and they bark at random things a lot, but otherwise they just hang out in the courtyard and sleep all day. They too were appreciative of pets, although they didn't bother to get up from their warm place in the sun. The black girl-dog used to be owned by an English speaker, so her name is Lucky (which is probably not an unusual name for a dog in this city). I forget the other dog's name, but it meas snake. She was reddish brown.
Most of the dogs here seem to be variations of red to blond. I wonder if they are self-selected to blend in with the sand and dirt so people don't notice them as much. There is a little red dog who hangs out on one of the streets that I pass every day. She sometimes runs away from me as I approach, but a couple of times she waged her tail and actually walked towards me when I said hello to her. I think I'll call her Rubis (Ruby). It's not terribly original, but she is a little red dog.
Other dogs that I see on the street are being walked by humans with leashes. Often the humans look like white ex-pats, so I wonder about the ones being walked by locals. Their humans might pay other people to walk the dogs. This seems particularly likely in the richer parts of town.
I'll probably talk more about the non-human people here, particularly if I progress to the point where I can pet Rubis without the danger of her biting me or running away.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
A pleasant 86°F
Since Wednesday, which was so hot that even Thiaba complaned and it felt as though my brain was melting, the weather here has been downright pleasant. I even put my pilfered airplane blanket on my bed last night. Of course, this means that it's a little harder to convince myself that I'm enjoying taking a cold shower, but somehow I can manage. Anyway...
Hopefully this will work as a link for my pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.fr/julia.condon/SenegalPartOne#
We took the taxi downtown on Thursday morning, instead of the bus like the day before. Again I was glad that Thiaba and Adama were there to negotiate prices and destinations for us.
Downtown we started out at the national cathedral. It was quite beautiful, made out of white stone. Next we walked past various governmental buildings, including the presidential palace. A group of elderly French tourists emptied out of a bus in front of us as we approached. The palace was quite opulent, with white walls, green lawns, and a view facing the ocean. It is also on the relatively sheltered side of the presqu'ile. As we passed a side gate a motorcade came out, complete with police escort and sirens.
Next we stopped at the bank so people like me could get money. While we were there we were approached by a couple of vendeurs ambulants. Any toubab is likely to attract vendeurs ambulants; a large group of them standing still is like a honey trap. For once we didn't immediately try to shake them off. A couple of people bought cheap necklaces and I was pleased with myself when I successfully bartered down the price of a cheap diary to replace the one that I have when I run out of paper.
Bartering by myself would not have been advisable when we got to the place where I got my bag. Katie and I both wanted bags, so we all went to a place where they made and sold clothing and bags. It was pretty amazing. It was a fairly large building on the edge of one of the markets, and every inch of the entire bottom floor was packed with clothing and bags hanging from the walls and ceilings and on tables on the floor. Wedged between the tables were a couple dozen almost antique sewing machines, each with a young man hard at work stitching fabric together or sewing on designs in thread. They all stared at us as we passed, and we were swarmed by several people who pointed out various products to us.
Katie and I made our selections, then we all went up a staircase at the back of the room to an upper level. The hallway was lined with small rooms, each with another man hard at work on a sewing machine, surrounded by cloth and products in various states of completeness. In another room full of completed products we waited around while Adama ruthlessly bartered down the price to a third of the original asking price.
When we were finally done there we went across the street and other people bought stuff from other vendors. Katherine bought a pare of leather flip-flops and Jessl got a bin-bin, which is a chain of beads worn under the clothing around the waist, and is treated in a way similar to lingerie. Usually it is something that is given to a woman as a present from her boyfriend or husband, but Jess wanted some anyway.
When we got back to ACI we had several hours to kill before the response meeting, so I went with a few others to the restaurant/bar known to ACI people as "Baobab VI" (there used to be three official Baobab buildings, with the bar as the fourth one). I have seldom had such slow service, but it was rather pleasant to hang out under the outdoor awning and people watch.
After the response meeting I decided to check out the Casino, a supermarché several "blocks" away. As I passed Ramadan's tent and exchanged greetings I was spotted by "Boxy James." Boxy James is a frequently encountered denizen of the neighborhood, perhaps in his mid thirties, whom previous LC students warned us is "harmless but annoying." I can safely confirm this analysis. He started chatting to me, and I said I was going to the Casino. He insisted on escorting me there. As men are want to do here, he asked me for my phone number and I gave the standard response that I didn't have one yet. He insisted on giving me his number, which is also standard. When we got to the Casino he said he would wait outside. I lingered in there, half hoping that he would give up and leave, but as I was checking out at the register I saw that he was still there.
Despite my protestations that I had tons of homework to do and needed to get back to ACI (not that that was true. Have I talked about the acceptability of white lies here?), he again insisted on taking me to his neighborhood, which was on a nearby street; and introducing me to his grandmother, who sleepily responded to my awkward greeting. He then paraded me past various other friends on the street, and introduced me to his father, who owned a nearby tailor shop. He noted my ring, and I told the people in the shop that I had a fiancée and could therefore not marry anyone in the shop (I brought the ring, also upon the recommendation of previous students, for just such a purpose). The farce continued as we finally mossied back to ACI, while he greeted several dozen other people. During the walk Boxy James noted several times that I walk quickly, and I tried to explain that everyone in my family has long legs and therefore walks at a fast pace, and tried to balance my impatience with the slow pace that most people use here.
Only when I was back home and sunset was fast approaching did I realize that in my annoyance in seeing Boxy James waiting for me outside of the Casino I had forgotten my purchases at the register. I was irritated for most of the rest of the evening.
Friday, 21 January
On Friday morning I started off the day with the usual section of baguette and instant coffee, and as usual was reminded of Professor Yana saying "Here's to it: Utopia ...where it is to be hoped the coffee is a little less sour." The bottom inch or so of the cup is always oddly sour. For a change I also had a grapefruit, which also was a little sour, but still was good. I ate it like an American while Sanda watched curiously.
At ACI we had a lecture on the history and current state of the education system, including the long tradition of strikes. Then we all piled into a big van. The Penn State students came with us as well, so the van we took was more like a bus than a van, and quite luxurious at that. It had gushy seats and air conditioning, even.
Our destination was "l'école de la rue," or school of the street, which was in a slum. In fact, the whole quartier was mainly slums, and the section we visited was packed with shacks made out of plywood and corrugated metal. Some of the paths between walls were too narrow for two people to walk abreast. We passed women doing the wash in font of their homes, babies strapped to their backs. One or two had tables where they sold fruits and vegetables that were swarming with files. Amazingly, we passed a few dwellings where TVs were playing from the darkness.
The school was in a sort of clearing, and was made up of several large shacks, including one made out of an old train car. The students were mostly small street children, but there were also a few teenagers. The class was being taught by a man in his late fifties or sixties, helped by a volunteer from Belgium. The teacher gave us a tour of the campus, such as it was, and talked to us about the school and his students, and frequently encouraged us to ask questions and take pictures. One of the Penn students and I were the only ones who had brought cameras, and I felt tacky taking pictures, so I tried to do it when no one was looking.
I have never seen such abject poverty. It is one thing to know that such things exist and quite another to see it in person. In comparison our neighborhoods are decidedly middle-class, and my house is upper middle-class. It was a relief to again inhale exhaust when we stepped out of the collection of shacks and into an area with regular traffic. To put things into perspective, most people cannot afford the 3000cfa per month charge to send their children to private school. That's just over $6 per month.
In the bus on the way there we all chattered freely, but on the way back the only person who spoke was Samba. I wasn't really listening, so I don't know what he was talking about, and I don't know that anyone else was either.
In the afternoon we came back to ACI for our first Wolof lesson. Of course everyone else in the group has been paying more attention than me, and so did better, but oh well. We went over basic greeting exchanges and the like. Sanda and Siham both want to learn Wolof too, so we went over the cahier (workbook) with Gnagna after dinner. After that our conversation ranged from family name origins to the redwoods in Humboldt County. It was fun.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
What's up, Toubabs?*
Note: Again, this is taking forever, so I’m going to try and finish up the rest of the week in my next post. Some of the pictures will be recognizable, but others I haven’t gotten to yet. I’ll rearrange them and properly label them next time, so be sure to check back on this post if you want an explanation for them. For now I’m running out of daylight again.
*A toubab is a catch-all term for a foreigner. It is the person, but it also describes the behavior of the foreigner. White toubabs are the most easily recognizable, but a toubab can have any skin color and speak any language.
So where did I leave off? Moving in? Sure.
Saturday, 17 January
The three Moroccans, Gnagna and I all had lunch around the table in the front room. We had a traditional communal bowl of rice with onion sauce on top, and chicken. Each person eats from the imaginary wedge in front of them, and the host distributes the meat to each person or cuts it up and puts it in the middle. To my relief we ate with spoons. I was a little clumsy eating with my right hand, but not as bad as it could have been.
After lunch I wandered back to ACI (Africa Consultants International, did I mention that before?) and wrote my first blog entry. That took a lot longer than I expected it to, which is why I didn't write about everything I could have.
By the time I left ACI, the call to evening prayer had long since gone, and it was twilight when I got to the house. I hung out in my room for a while (no one else was really about). The five of us had dinner, which consisted of kiefer millet mixed together in individual bowls. Apparently Sunday dinner is traditionally a light meal.
After dinner the Moroccans and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. By the time we were half way through our walk I was completely turned around, and only figured out where we were in general when I saw the giant Mosque that is a short distance from the house.
(btw, someone asked if I can hear the call to prayer. The answer is yes, definitely. There is a Mosque just down the street from ACI that I pass every day on the way between ACI and my house. There is also the large Mosque about a block--not that there are real "blocks" as such--from the house. The call to prayer isn't deafening, but I can definitely hear it.
Monday, 18 January
The next morning I had the usual instant coffee and section of baguette, then headed to ACI. Every morning I am reminded of Professor Yana saying "Here's to it: Utopia ...where it is to be hoped that the coffee is a little less sour." (for future reference, if I quote something and you don't recognize it, it's probably safe to assume that it's from Doctor Who). People tend to stare at the toubab walking down the street every morning, but I think we're starting to get used to each other.
At ACI we had a feedback discussion on our host families, and then an introduction to Senegalese values. This included a traditional lunch, during which I spilled a large quantity of rice on my lap. Part of the orientation was devoted to dividing into pairs and interviewing people about specific Senegalese concepts, and then reporting on them. I got to practice being incomprehensible to a large group. That was super, super fun. Then again, I think it was the first time that I have ever done a presentation in French without practicing prior or bringing notes.
After that we got our phones, which to my pleasure work to call people and receive calls from the US, though it is expensive. I had fun calling people in the US on Marten Luther King Jr. day and waking them up (if you don't have my phone number and want to call me, ask someone who knows it and ask for directions; I don't want to put them here). Thanks to my phone I now finally have an effective alarm clock. I now also have to lie and say that I don't have a phone when people ask me for my phone number, which happens a lot. I was warned against telling people my number and instead just take down other peoples'. Apparently I would get constant calls if I told anyone my number, but it is impolite to refuse, so I have to lie instead. So far it has worked to say that I just got here, but I'm going to have to come up with something else soon.
Not much happened for the rest of the day. For dinner we had fish with French fries, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more of that onion sauce. It was quite tasty. I’ve noticed that a lot of the time here French fries are mixed with other things, like in salads or hamburgers. So far I think Khady’s fries are the best I’ve had.
Tuesday, 19 January
On Tuesday morning all we had was a security session and an introduction to the classes that we will be taking this semester. The security lecture was about how to avoid things like pickpockets, which areas of town to avoid, etc. We also learned how to deflect beggars and aggressive vendeurs. The academics session was fairly unremarkable, although I was pleased to learn that one of our classes is going to be on music, which will include music lessons in a choice of instruments. I want to learn how to play the kora, which will probably be hard but looks fun. In case you don't know what a kora is, here's a picture of one: http://badin-yaa.com/images/instruments/kora.jpg .
After lunch I met some of the others and we walked to the ocean. Alexis and Jessicah went running, which I think is pretty crazy in the afternoon of an unseasonably hot day, but hey, at least they didn't make me go with them. The walk to the ocean was pleasantly shaded, and on the way we stopped at a supermarché where I got a mango creamcicle. It was a little odd, but tasty. When we reached the ocean we were on a section with low bluffs overlooking the water. Some of the others picked their way down the cliff but I stayed up top with Katie. Next we checked out the nearby Place de Souvenier, which was completely empty except for a bored looking guard.
Wednesday, 20 January
My alarm woke me up at the correct time, but then I fell asleep again and didn't wake up until 20 minutes until the start of class. That was fun. Thank goodness for Senegalese time. I ate my baguette on the way there. As it turned out, I wasn't even the last person to get there.
We had a brief introduction, and then split into groups for our first Downtown sortie. I was with Thiaba again. We went to lunch first, then we wandered around, past a couple different marchées and around various notable places, including the Place d’Indipendance. It was really hot. Even Thiaba complained about the heat. I decided that it was a good thing that I didn’t know the temperature, because my brain was melting enough as it was. When we were done identifying all the numbers marked on our maps we stopped for ice cream at a place called N’ice Cream. It was very tasty after such a long time in the heat.
When I got home that evening the house was dark, and even though it was barely past sunset I thought I was afraid for a moment that everyone had already gone to bed. It turned out, however, that the power was out in possibly the whole city. I didn’t notice the lights going out because I think I was crossing the highway at the time.
Sihan and Sanda had a couple of friends over for dinner because it was one of the friend’s birthday. I had tea and bowl of nuts with them. It was nice to be able to listen to conversation in French without having to understand or respond all the time. The lights eventually came back on, and we had dinner, with fruit after. I think at least one of the Moroccans was amused by my maladroitness in peeling an apple with a knife.
People
I have mentioned a lot of people, and I know I haven’t explained who most of them are, so here follows a list of people:
Lewis & Clark people:
Katie, Katherine, Jessica Lodel (aka Jessl), Jessica Holms (aka Jessicah), Leah, Alexis, Kelly, Rabekah, and the only guy in the group, Sean.
ACI people:
Samba has been our general guide. I’m not sure what his actual job is in ACI.
Tricia is from Trinidad and Tobago via New York, and helps coordinate our schedule, etc.
Al Hassan is a program director and has lead many of our discussions.
Thiaba has been one of our guides when going about town.
Fatim is another guide.
Host Family people:
Gnagna is my host mother. Her home is a sort of boarding house, and she has hosted several people from ACI.
Khady is the bonne, or maid. She lives in the house. She speaks Wolof, and has even worse French than me.
Sanda is one of the Moroccans, and is the person with whom I speak the most. We have been teaching each other our respective languages. She has completed her studies in medicine and is currently writing her doctoral thesis.
Siham is the other Moroccan. I’m not sure, but I think she and Sanda are sisters. She too is writing her doctoral thesis.
I have concluded that the third young woman who was there on my first day does not actually live there, but is a friend of Siham and Sanda. There is also another tenant who occupies the room off of the front room, but I rarely see her. Gnagna’s son lives there as well, but I have only met him once, and briefly.
Other people:
Ramadan has a tent around the corner from ACI. He serves strong, sweet coffee and likes to help ACI students with their Wolof. He is friendly and helpful.
Bossy (or Boxy) James appears to be (as we were warned by previous students) harmless, but annoying. I can confirm at least the second part. He often hangs out around Ramadan’s tent.
*A toubab is a catch-all term for a foreigner. It is the person, but it also describes the behavior of the foreigner. White toubabs are the most easily recognizable, but a toubab can have any skin color and speak any language.
So where did I leave off? Moving in? Sure.
Saturday, 17 January
The three Moroccans, Gnagna and I all had lunch around the table in the front room. We had a traditional communal bowl of rice with onion sauce on top, and chicken. Each person eats from the imaginary wedge in front of them, and the host distributes the meat to each person or cuts it up and puts it in the middle. To my relief we ate with spoons. I was a little clumsy eating with my right hand, but not as bad as it could have been.
After lunch I wandered back to ACI (Africa Consultants International, did I mention that before?) and wrote my first blog entry. That took a lot longer than I expected it to, which is why I didn't write about everything I could have.
By the time I left ACI, the call to evening prayer had long since gone, and it was twilight when I got to the house. I hung out in my room for a while (no one else was really about). The five of us had dinner, which consisted of kiefer millet mixed together in individual bowls. Apparently Sunday dinner is traditionally a light meal.
After dinner the Moroccans and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. By the time we were half way through our walk I was completely turned around, and only figured out where we were in general when I saw the giant Mosque that is a short distance from the house.
(btw, someone asked if I can hear the call to prayer. The answer is yes, definitely. There is a Mosque just down the street from ACI that I pass every day on the way between ACI and my house. There is also the large Mosque about a block--not that there are real "blocks" as such--from the house. The call to prayer isn't deafening, but I can definitely hear it.
Monday, 18 January
The next morning I had the usual instant coffee and section of baguette, then headed to ACI. Every morning I am reminded of Professor Yana saying "Here's to it: Utopia ...where it is to be hoped that the coffee is a little less sour." (for future reference, if I quote something and you don't recognize it, it's probably safe to assume that it's from Doctor Who). People tend to stare at the toubab walking down the street every morning, but I think we're starting to get used to each other.
At ACI we had a feedback discussion on our host families, and then an introduction to Senegalese values. This included a traditional lunch, during which I spilled a large quantity of rice on my lap. Part of the orientation was devoted to dividing into pairs and interviewing people about specific Senegalese concepts, and then reporting on them. I got to practice being incomprehensible to a large group. That was super, super fun. Then again, I think it was the first time that I have ever done a presentation in French without practicing prior or bringing notes.
After that we got our phones, which to my pleasure work to call people and receive calls from the US, though it is expensive. I had fun calling people in the US on Marten Luther King Jr. day and waking them up (if you don't have my phone number and want to call me, ask someone who knows it and ask for directions; I don't want to put them here). Thanks to my phone I now finally have an effective alarm clock. I now also have to lie and say that I don't have a phone when people ask me for my phone number, which happens a lot. I was warned against telling people my number and instead just take down other peoples'. Apparently I would get constant calls if I told anyone my number, but it is impolite to refuse, so I have to lie instead. So far it has worked to say that I just got here, but I'm going to have to come up with something else soon.
Not much happened for the rest of the day. For dinner we had fish with French fries, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more of that onion sauce. It was quite tasty. I’ve noticed that a lot of the time here French fries are mixed with other things, like in salads or hamburgers. So far I think Khady’s fries are the best I’ve had.
Tuesday, 19 January
On Tuesday morning all we had was a security session and an introduction to the classes that we will be taking this semester. The security lecture was about how to avoid things like pickpockets, which areas of town to avoid, etc. We also learned how to deflect beggars and aggressive vendeurs. The academics session was fairly unremarkable, although I was pleased to learn that one of our classes is going to be on music, which will include music lessons in a choice of instruments. I want to learn how to play the kora, which will probably be hard but looks fun. In case you don't know what a kora is, here's a picture of one: http://badin-yaa.com/images/instruments/kora.jpg .
After lunch I met some of the others and we walked to the ocean. Alexis and Jessicah went running, which I think is pretty crazy in the afternoon of an unseasonably hot day, but hey, at least they didn't make me go with them. The walk to the ocean was pleasantly shaded, and on the way we stopped at a supermarché where I got a mango creamcicle. It was a little odd, but tasty. When we reached the ocean we were on a section with low bluffs overlooking the water. Some of the others picked their way down the cliff but I stayed up top with Katie. Next we checked out the nearby Place de Souvenier, which was completely empty except for a bored looking guard.
Wednesday, 20 January
My alarm woke me up at the correct time, but then I fell asleep again and didn't wake up until 20 minutes until the start of class. That was fun. Thank goodness for Senegalese time. I ate my baguette on the way there. As it turned out, I wasn't even the last person to get there.
We had a brief introduction, and then split into groups for our first Downtown sortie. I was with Thiaba again. We went to lunch first, then we wandered around, past a couple different marchées and around various notable places, including the Place d’Indipendance. It was really hot. Even Thiaba complained about the heat. I decided that it was a good thing that I didn’t know the temperature, because my brain was melting enough as it was. When we were done identifying all the numbers marked on our maps we stopped for ice cream at a place called N’ice Cream. It was very tasty after such a long time in the heat.
When I got home that evening the house was dark, and even though it was barely past sunset I thought I was afraid for a moment that everyone had already gone to bed. It turned out, however, that the power was out in possibly the whole city. I didn’t notice the lights going out because I think I was crossing the highway at the time.
Sihan and Sanda had a couple of friends over for dinner because it was one of the friend’s birthday. I had tea and bowl of nuts with them. It was nice to be able to listen to conversation in French without having to understand or respond all the time. The lights eventually came back on, and we had dinner, with fruit after. I think at least one of the Moroccans was amused by my maladroitness in peeling an apple with a knife.
People
I have mentioned a lot of people, and I know I haven’t explained who most of them are, so here follows a list of people:
Lewis & Clark people:
Katie, Katherine, Jessica Lodel (aka Jessl), Jessica Holms (aka Jessicah), Leah, Alexis, Kelly, Rabekah, and the only guy in the group, Sean.
ACI people:
Samba has been our general guide. I’m not sure what his actual job is in ACI.
Tricia is from Trinidad and Tobago via New York, and helps coordinate our schedule, etc.
Al Hassan is a program director and has lead many of our discussions.
Thiaba has been one of our guides when going about town.
Fatim is another guide.
Host Family people:
Gnagna is my host mother. Her home is a sort of boarding house, and she has hosted several people from ACI.
Khady is the bonne, or maid. She lives in the house. She speaks Wolof, and has even worse French than me.
Sanda is one of the Moroccans, and is the person with whom I speak the most. We have been teaching each other our respective languages. She has completed her studies in medicine and is currently writing her doctoral thesis.
Siham is the other Moroccan. I’m not sure, but I think she and Sanda are sisters. She too is writing her doctoral thesis.
I have concluded that the third young woman who was there on my first day does not actually live there, but is a friend of Siham and Sanda. There is also another tenant who occupies the room off of the front room, but I rarely see her. Gnagna’s son lives there as well, but I have only met him once, and briefly.
Other people:
Ramadan has a tent around the corner from ACI. He serves strong, sweet coffee and likes to help ACI students with their Wolof. He is friendly and helpful.
Bossy (or Boxy) James appears to be (as we were warned by previous students) harmless, but annoying. I can confirm at least the second part. He often hangs out around Ramadan’s tent.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
First Post From Senegal
Blarg it's hot in here.
I'm not sure which is stranger: that I've only been here two nights or that I've already been here two nights.
This keyboard is annoying. This is zhqt it looks like if I try qnd type using the nor,ql pqttern of hitting keys: (thqt ":" is supposed to be q period).
And this is what happens when I push the number keys without pushing shift first:
&é"'(-è_çà
shift:
1234567890
alt:~#{[`\^@
I suppose I should try and start getting used to this configuration, but it's annoying.
Anyway, here follows a summary of my journal from the last few days:
14 January, 2010--In the air
I flew from SF to Chicago. Kelly and Rebbecca were on the same flight with me. A boring rom-com played on the screen.
15 Jan, 12:42 pm--Charles de Gaulle
We met up with most of the rest of the group in Chicago. I watched Slumdog Millionare on the plain to Paris, which was a little less than 8 hours long.
Charles de Gaulle was pretty horrible. It was really confusing and security took forever. We eventually got to the right terminal, which was really big and modern. There were tons of expensive duty-free shops for stuff like Prada and Dior. I completed my first solo transaction in French when I bought lunch. I resisted buying a $7 cup of coffee. Our layover in Paris ended up being something like 7 or 8 hours. Yay.
16 Jan, 12:15 am--Dakar, the appartments
On the flight we took up half of one row and part of another. I watched Surrogates and Terminator Salvation. I sat next to a smartly-dressed buisnessman.
When we landed the terminal was packed with people in suits or flowing robes or dresses. The women all had elaborately arranged hair. When we went to get our bags we found that everyone who had switched from United to Air France--including me--had not gotten our checked luggage. Those of us with missing luggage went into a back room and waited around for almost an hour to register our bags so they would keep an eye out for them. Thankfully I packed most of my clothes in my carry-on, but it's still a major pain.
When we got out Nicole (our French prof from LC) was there to greet us. We left the airport in an ACI van.
When we got to the appartment where the 9 of us spent that night and the next and I got to bed, I calculated that it had "only" been 23 hours since I got up in San Francisco. It seemed more like 48.
16 Jan, 9:22 pm--Appartment
What a crazy, long day. When we woke up someone had already brought our breakfast: baguettes with cheese, jam, and chocolat spread to put on them and surprisingly drinkable instant coffee with sugar cubes and semi-soluable powdered milk.
"Pop" Samba came to pick us up after breakfast (about 20 minutes late; I like this place already) and we took the roughly 10 minute walk to the Baobab Center (ACI). After a brief tour of Baobab 1 we went to Baobab 2 (the second building; there are three) for the start of orientation.
After a talk about ACI from one of the co-founders we split into two groups. Nicole went with my group. We walked around the neighborhood and stopped at a supermarché, where I bought a quart of mixed pineapple juice for about 1000cfa ($2.19) and a packet of kleenexes for about 100cfa ($.22). (did I mention that I have a cold? yeah).
We had lunch back at the appartment: white rice, spicy onion sauce, and favorfully spiced whole fish with sharp teeth and dry, flaky flesh. After a brief nap we walked back to ACI and split off into our groups again, this time to locate our houses. I was disconcerted to learn that my everyday route to and from ACI involves crossing six lanes of traffic. Thankfully there's a wide island so I don't have to cross all six at once. It's also relatively close to ACI; a ten minute walk rather than the 20 minute one that one or two people have.
Walking down the streets was... different. The sidewalks are cracked to pieces and half covered with a mixture of sand and flattened trash. Every block or so there is one or two vendors selling things like fruit, sandles, or newspaper. We also passed the occasional man walking around to sell his stuff. Those people also sold things like sandles, but mostly smaller stuff like phone cards. One guy clutched a reel of toy pianos that played tinny music as we passed.
We walked past fiberglass shacks where peole lived next to their goats, sheep, and chickens. We also passed the house of the current president of Senegal (according to Thiaba, our guide). He's not living there at the moment, but it still was guarded by serious-looking uniformed guards carrying large guns.
I was slightly surprised by the number of horse-drawn carts. The horses are more like ponies. They carried everything from nothing but their human to a load of rubble from a house being demolished so heavy that I saw the pony's hooves slip on the pavement as it turned on the street. There were also a number of dogs and a few weary-looking cats. We saw a man carrying two resigned-looking ducks by the bases of their wings.
My group got back almost an hour and a half before the other group did. Apparently they were too tired to walk all the way back from the last person's house, so they took a couple of taxies, but their guide forgot to tell them that they had to tell the driver how to get back.
We talked about our experiences of the day, then said goodbye to Nicole, who left last night. We had a noodle dish, fried sliced plantains and more baguettes for dinner.
Samba invited us to come to N'Dour's club, which was just around the corner from the appartment. N'Dour is the most popular singer in West Africa, so it was worth it. It was so full that no one could move, and the base was so loud we could bearly hear him singing. Alexis and I ended up leaving ater only two songs. Between the concert and my cold I got about two and a half hours of sleep.
17 Jan, 11:46 am--my room
After breakfast we packed up our stuff and went to ACI. We had a brief introduction to homestay, then went to our houses. I was the first person to be dropped off.
My host mother has two grown-up sons. One lives at home (I haven't met him yet) and the older one is married and is living in the US. The father is there also. Gnagna (pronounced "Nana") has three other lodgers, three young women from Morocco. If I understand correctly all three are doctors.
They are all in one room, but I have a room to myself. I even have my own bathroom.
OK, I could say more but it's getting towards sunset. The pictures are in backwards order.
My room:
This is the view out my window. You might not be able to tell, but it opens into the front room/dining room. In other houses that I've seen there is a front courtyard before entering the house propper. This serves a similar purpose (those windows in and above the door don't have glass to allow air flow) except there is a roof.
The living/dining room in the appartment:
Money:
View from the appartment:
I'm not sure which is stranger: that I've only been here two nights or that I've already been here two nights.
This keyboard is annoying. This is zhqt it looks like if I try qnd type using the nor,ql pqttern of hitting keys: (thqt ":" is supposed to be q period).
And this is what happens when I push the number keys without pushing shift first:
&é"'(-è_çà
shift:
1234567890
alt:~#{[`\^@
I suppose I should try and start getting used to this configuration, but it's annoying.
Anyway, here follows a summary of my journal from the last few days:
14 January, 2010--In the air
I flew from SF to Chicago. Kelly and Rebbecca were on the same flight with me. A boring rom-com played on the screen.
15 Jan, 12:42 pm--Charles de Gaulle
We met up with most of the rest of the group in Chicago. I watched Slumdog Millionare on the plain to Paris, which was a little less than 8 hours long.
Charles de Gaulle was pretty horrible. It was really confusing and security took forever. We eventually got to the right terminal, which was really big and modern. There were tons of expensive duty-free shops for stuff like Prada and Dior. I completed my first solo transaction in French when I bought lunch. I resisted buying a $7 cup of coffee. Our layover in Paris ended up being something like 7 or 8 hours. Yay.
16 Jan, 12:15 am--Dakar, the appartments
On the flight we took up half of one row and part of another. I watched Surrogates and Terminator Salvation. I sat next to a smartly-dressed buisnessman.
When we landed the terminal was packed with people in suits or flowing robes or dresses. The women all had elaborately arranged hair. When we went to get our bags we found that everyone who had switched from United to Air France--including me--had not gotten our checked luggage. Those of us with missing luggage went into a back room and waited around for almost an hour to register our bags so they would keep an eye out for them. Thankfully I packed most of my clothes in my carry-on, but it's still a major pain.
When we got out Nicole (our French prof from LC) was there to greet us. We left the airport in an ACI van.
When we got to the appartment where the 9 of us spent that night and the next and I got to bed, I calculated that it had "only" been 23 hours since I got up in San Francisco. It seemed more like 48.
16 Jan, 9:22 pm--Appartment
What a crazy, long day. When we woke up someone had already brought our breakfast: baguettes with cheese, jam, and chocolat spread to put on them and surprisingly drinkable instant coffee with sugar cubes and semi-soluable powdered milk.
"Pop" Samba came to pick us up after breakfast (about 20 minutes late; I like this place already) and we took the roughly 10 minute walk to the Baobab Center (ACI). After a brief tour of Baobab 1 we went to Baobab 2 (the second building; there are three) for the start of orientation.
After a talk about ACI from one of the co-founders we split into two groups. Nicole went with my group. We walked around the neighborhood and stopped at a supermarché, where I bought a quart of mixed pineapple juice for about 1000cfa ($2.19) and a packet of kleenexes for about 100cfa ($.22). (did I mention that I have a cold? yeah).
We had lunch back at the appartment: white rice, spicy onion sauce, and favorfully spiced whole fish with sharp teeth and dry, flaky flesh. After a brief nap we walked back to ACI and split off into our groups again, this time to locate our houses. I was disconcerted to learn that my everyday route to and from ACI involves crossing six lanes of traffic. Thankfully there's a wide island so I don't have to cross all six at once. It's also relatively close to ACI; a ten minute walk rather than the 20 minute one that one or two people have.
Walking down the streets was... different. The sidewalks are cracked to pieces and half covered with a mixture of sand and flattened trash. Every block or so there is one or two vendors selling things like fruit, sandles, or newspaper. We also passed the occasional man walking around to sell his stuff. Those people also sold things like sandles, but mostly smaller stuff like phone cards. One guy clutched a reel of toy pianos that played tinny music as we passed.
We walked past fiberglass shacks where peole lived next to their goats, sheep, and chickens. We also passed the house of the current president of Senegal (according to Thiaba, our guide). He's not living there at the moment, but it still was guarded by serious-looking uniformed guards carrying large guns.
I was slightly surprised by the number of horse-drawn carts. The horses are more like ponies. They carried everything from nothing but their human to a load of rubble from a house being demolished so heavy that I saw the pony's hooves slip on the pavement as it turned on the street. There were also a number of dogs and a few weary-looking cats. We saw a man carrying two resigned-looking ducks by the bases of their wings.
My group got back almost an hour and a half before the other group did. Apparently they were too tired to walk all the way back from the last person's house, so they took a couple of taxies, but their guide forgot to tell them that they had to tell the driver how to get back.
We talked about our experiences of the day, then said goodbye to Nicole, who left last night. We had a noodle dish, fried sliced plantains and more baguettes for dinner.
Samba invited us to come to N'Dour's club, which was just around the corner from the appartment. N'Dour is the most popular singer in West Africa, so it was worth it. It was so full that no one could move, and the base was so loud we could bearly hear him singing. Alexis and I ended up leaving ater only two songs. Between the concert and my cold I got about two and a half hours of sleep.
17 Jan, 11:46 am--my room
After breakfast we packed up our stuff and went to ACI. We had a brief introduction to homestay, then went to our houses. I was the first person to be dropped off.
My host mother has two grown-up sons. One lives at home (I haven't met him yet) and the older one is married and is living in the US. The father is there also. Gnagna (pronounced "Nana") has three other lodgers, three young women from Morocco. If I understand correctly all three are doctors.
They are all in one room, but I have a room to myself. I even have my own bathroom.
OK, I could say more but it's getting towards sunset. The pictures are in backwards order.
My room:
This is the view out my window. You might not be able to tell, but it opens into the front room/dining room. In other houses that I've seen there is a front courtyard before entering the house propper. This serves a similar purpose (those windows in and above the door don't have glass to allow air flow) except there is a roof.
The living/dining room in the appartment:
Money:
View from the appartment:
The room I slept in while we were there:
In Charles de Gaulle:
In Charles de Gaulle:
In Chicago:
Edit: I edited this to hopefully make it more readable. I didn't have time to do so before.
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