Eleventh Hour

Yeah, so maybe I haven't kept up on my blag. At all. Well... meh. I've been busy. Doing stuff. Anyway, here's a list of things of interest, sortof. I'm not sure what it's a list of, to be honest.

1. I didn't notice it until Poppy asked about it, but the sunsets here are really short. In the North we have long, red sunsets and long twilights as the sky slowly turns purple, then blue-black. Here, though, close to the equator, it's as though the sky just switches off. There is some dusk, yes, but I'm not sure how much of that is just because of the light from the city. It's still quite beautiful, nevertheless. Walking home just after sunset is the best time to hear the music of the city. A part of that is literal music, from the minaret of the mosque that I pass; The street always seems more busy then, with motos and taxis taking people home after work, and shouting children playing on the sidewalk. Indifferent to the noise, bats swoop around in circles, hunting insects.

Sunrise is even more beautiful, at least it was the few times that I was up to see it. The moon is somehow brighter against the dimly lit sky, and the air is full of the sounds of birds, and little else. Hardly anyone is out at that time, except the occasional taxi, of course. Hawks glide lazily around, hunting. If you are lucky, you can buy bread directly from the man who brings it to the corner boutiques, still slightly warm. It almost makes up for the lack of sleep;

2. The power goes out about once a week here. They've more frequent as it has gotten hotter and more people keep their fans running. Apparently at the height of summer there are daily power outages; Up to now they have mostly lasted about an hour, and mostly happen just after sunset, when everyone turns on their lights. Everyone is so used to them that it's not much of a big deal unless you're trying to use a computer. Many of the problems with the computers at Baobab come from the power surges. Last week the power went out for about three hours in the middle of the afternoon, so no one got much work done; There is a power generator at Baobab, but for some reason it wasn't working. Many boutiques have small generators that sit outside the front door. Even if you're not using electricity yourself, it's easy to know when the power is out by the sound of the generators.

3. Given:
d = the average number of times per week that I left my room during the evening last semester in Portland,
t = how little time there is before I have to be home,
c = how little phone credit I have,
P = how lost I am,
L = how long I have already walked,
and the constant T = Taranga (hospitality),
find D = my recklessness on a Thursday night in Dakar, using the following equation.

D = d[(P + L)/(t + c)] + T

4. I'm probably the worst person to be staying longest in Dakar. Kelly left on Wednesday night, Jess H and Alexis left on Saturday, Jess L and Sean left on Sunday (though they only went on a week long trip and will be back), Katie and Katherine are leaving tonight, Leia and Rebeka are leaving on Thursday, and I'm leaving... Saturday. Bleh. As I said, I'm probably the worst person in this group to leave last, because I am really ready to leave. I am really, really glad that I came, for many reasons, but I'm not in love with Senegal like many of the others. I don't really like the food, I don't like the conformity (everyone likes the same music), and I really don't like the men here. I'm also tired of the way that Gnagna seems to have unrealistic expectations for me, then treats me like an idiot child when I fail to meet them. I also just act more stupid in front of her. To b e fair, I could just be being paranoid, but it sortof comes to the same thing.

In fact, one of the reasons that I'm so glad that I came here is the way that it has helped me realize how much I like my own culture. As a communal society, conformity is encouraged here. In contrast, everyone is expected to have their own style, their own tastes, their own hobbies. Granted, there is a certain amount of conformity within social circles, but at least there are many different social circles to choose from. I have also learned a greater appreciation for the English language. We have so many different ways of saying the same thing, with so many different nuances. In French there don't seem to be enough synonyms to ever need a thesaurus. And don't get me started on Wolof. True, it is much simpler than any other language I've encountered, possibly including made up ones like Elvish, but that has its downsides. For instance, I was incredibly depressed to learn that there are names for only four different colors in Wolof.

And oh God, do I miss cheese. And vegetables that aren't overcooked. And noodles that aren't overcooked.

5. There are also many things that I know I will miss: First, being a part of this group of L&C students. I'll also miss being able to go up to any number of tables (there are four within a minute of ACI) to buy cheap, fresh fruit. I will miss buying bags of semi-frozen bouillessap, juice made out of a mixture of baobab fruit (bouille) and hibiscus flowers (bissap). I will miss beignes, deep fried sweet or savory balls of dough made by women on the street. I will miss being outraged when a taxi driver asks 3000F (around $6) to go downtown. I will miss the triumph of successfully bargaining the price down. I will miss the piebald crow with their white tuxedo waistcoats and the brightly colored weaverbirds straight out of a picture book that I had when I was little. I will miss the yagen yaays, the white minibuses that go everywhere, if you can understand the apprenti who always hangs off the back ladder, shouting the destination with an accent thick enough to use as beigne batter. I will miss the teenage boys who set up their platters on spindly metal frames and sell pieces of juicy fresh coconut for 25F a shard. I will really miss yogoglace, frozen yogurt sold in plastic bags. OK, so most of the things that I will miss are types of food, just not the food that they serve at meals.

Sorry, that was really short, too. Maybe I'll write more on Friday when I'll be the only one left. Or not. Maybe I'll just upload pictures and watch "The Time of the Angels" again. Inshallah.

Happy Gamou!*

*Gamou is the name for the celebration of Mohamed's birthday, which is today.

First of all, I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last post. I'm getting bad at such things, mainly because I can't believe that we've already been here for five weeks. It's a little shocking.

For this post I again bring you a collection of odds and ends.

Language

The greetings in Wolof are kindof fun in translation.
- I pray for peace on your behalf.
- Peace for you, too.
- Are you here?
- I am here still.
- Are your house people (family) there?
- They are there.
- Thank you, God.
- Thank you, God.

We spent last weekend in a village in Futa, the region to the north east where they speak Puular. We had a crash course on Puular the Monday before, but I learned almost nothing. Not only was there a completely new set of weird words, there are consonants in Puular that are just about impossible for us to pronounce properly. It was really weird to come back to Dakar and actually be relieved to hear Wolof again. At least in Wolof I can do the basic greetings and say "Julia laa tudd."

Arthropods

There are a number of interesting arthropods here. For instance, there are at least three different kinds of ants. There are the normal-sized ones, but there are also the ones that are so tiny they are almost invisible, and this evening I just saw one that was about half an inch long. That was slightly disturbing to see crawling across the keyboard.

A couple weekends ago when we were in Toubab Dialao we saw a big, flat, six-legged, speckled sand-colored thing that I think might have been that relative of a scorpion that was in the picture book of dangerous creatures that we had when we were little. Whatever it was, it ran away and hid in a corner. We gave it a wide birth, but it didn't attack anyone. While we were there we also saw a praying mantis, which was cool because I don't think I'd seen one before, at least not in the wild.

I haven't noticed many spiders, though that could be simply because they're unremarkable to me. The exception is the one that I mentioned in a previous entry, the jumping spider. It was pretty cool, particularly since I know that it would have no reason at all to jump on me, except by accident. Kelly and Katie also found a spider on a web on the inside of one of their jambes (sp? it's a type of drum). Maybe it liked vibrations from the drumming.

Last weekend in Mboumba while we were waiting around for stuff to happen (that was a joke. We spent at least 75% of our waking hours waiting for something to happen) at one point, we were all sitting around singing pop songs (or mostly listening in my case. I don't know many pop songs) when Kelly exclaimed that she had seen a scorpion. None of us thought much of it, until someone explained to Gabi (our music... sometimes he teaches us) that a small scorpion had crawled under the mat he was sitting on. To everyone's surprise he jumped up and ripped aside the mat, and nearly shouted that it was not a small scorpion. He shouted to a nearby kid to get a shoe, and smashed the scorpion repeatedly with the flip-flop. It was about two inches long. I don't know enough about scorpions to know if he was over-reacting or not. Given everyone else's reaction, I suppose not. They would know more about how poisonous the local scorpions are than we do.

Names

We have all been given Senegalese names. Mine is Huja, or something like that. Whenever I say it people correct my pronunciation, so I'm not sure about that spelling. I have also decided to create an alternate identity to give to random people on the street if they ask me. If anyone asks, my name is Josephine Grant, and I have a fiancée/husband named James McCrimmon (If you get this reference, laugh hysterically, so that people stare at you as though you are insane. If no one else is around, go somewhere where there are people. If you don't get the reference, be one of the people that stares at me as though I am insane).

A Rubis in the Smog

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.