you can probably skim the first half...

And now for something completely different.

Well, I’m at WAIST now. That’s West African Invitational Softball Tournament. It’s held in Dakar once per year, usually in February, but it was moved this year because the Senegalese Presidential election is next month. So, all Peace Corps volunteers from West Africa are invited, as well as all expats of all ages (expatriates, aka, all American’s living over here.) You just put a team together and come play softball, and take in all the glory that is Dakar. That’s the pitch for the thing. And yeah, it’s a lot of fun, but to me Dakar is still a bit more trouble than it’s worth, and Saint-Louis is the place to be. This place is just expensive! And when you don’t know what you’re supposed to pay for a cab because you don’t really ever know how far it is to where you’re going, it’s easy to let yourself overpay. And then food is a bit priceyer. BUT we have expat home-stays. Which is Amazing. Expat’s with their own houses here in Dakar offer to let some of us crash, and treat us to varying levels of American style Taranga (hospitality). I’m staying with a lovely woman who works for USAID. It’s kind of amazing in a slightly traumatic way. I mean, this house, man. This would be a lovely home in America, the kind of home any of my friends might have grown up in. Except for the landscaping, 24/7 guard, and electrical issues. There are PEONIES here. I thought I might drown in one last night. SO lovely. As for the electrical issues, I have shocked the CRAP out of myself this morning. Reheating pizza on tin foil in the oven, I reached in to see how hot the cheese was and the foil shocked me. Plugging in my computer, SOMEHOW I blasted myself. Then of course I grabbed the spot on my cord that one of my little rat babies chewed the insulating rubber off of and got a good zing. Anyway, I just don’t really know how to express how amazing and jarring this homestay is. Like, so many little comforts that are SO … comforting. Like being able to walk around barefoot without covering my feet in dirt from sand blown in by the wind. Like padded couches and chairs, American style. A kitchen with a Real coffee brewer. A hot shower with Amazing water pressure. Patio furniture a lot like what my parents had. A “Kathy” magnet on the fridge. A toaster! The quiet. I mean, village is fairly quiet at night, save some insects making music and the wind blowing the sand around my douche, and the daily howls at 6 AM when Djibi starts crying (he’s terribly two). But my first night I could hardly sleep because it was so quiet. I was in a room with the doors and windows closed and there was just NOTHING. … So insulated… Which was almost unsettling, but, I slept like a baby.

Also, the first night here, we showed up to a full dinner prepared for us. Spaghetti with vegetarian sauce (featuring carrots and tomatoes and nutmeg), baked fish with a vinegary onion marinade, French fries, green beans, and a hearty brown bread. Yum. And we sat at a wooden dining room table, on wooden padded chairs, and ate off of individual plates on a table cloth. Beautiful.

Thought: am I being over the top in detailing my experience with this? Well, see that’s the kicker. I imagine that if I had read this in America I’d feel a little “so what?” But, having lived in this country for **** near a full year, this level of detail is achieved by actually holding myself back. FYI.

It’s a beautiful thing. Clearly. But, in this city as with many in America, poverty is waiting just around the corner to smack you back into reality. Yeah, I’m still in Dakar. In Senegal. In Africa. And while I’m spending up to 2,500 CFA  for a cab to go see my friends (and spend more money on food or drinks), I’m passing talibe on the street in their dirty clothes with no shoes, asking for money for food. Dear American friends, if you aren’t aware of talibe, please google it. They are perhaps the most vulnerable population in Senegal and perhaps the most difficult to reach. Just for your own global awareness, do a quick search. There may come a time soon that I ask you to make a small donation to help with another volunteer’s project with these adorable little humans.

Meanwhile, just a check in on what this WHOLE experience is for me. In a word, oh my God, I can’t put it in a word. Let me try a few words: Amazing, overwhelming, befuddling, earth-shattering, boring, frustrating, beautiful, priceless. There’s a reason the Peace Corps calls this “the toughest job you’ll ever love.” It’s not that I “work” long hours in any traditional sense, or that I go to sleep exhausted every night, it’s just that it is a 24/7 commitment to being in this completely immersive differentness (of physical surroundings and internal activity (from digestive issues and weird skin things to strange thought processes and unprecedented emotional states)) and trying to accomplish something beneficial when it often seems like the whole script has been flipped on you. My perspective on development work has already changed so completely I can’t begin to explain. I can’t actually see how much my personal cultural expression has been changed by living in a Wolof village for this long. My heart is involved in some stuff that is completely unprecedented. It’s all just so… fricking AMAZING!! I mean, I’m sorry I can’t more clearly and eloquently explain this, because the purpose of this blog is to share the truly BIG stuff with you guys as much as possible. Suffice it to say, this is the toughest job I’ve ever loved, and even on the hardest days, or at least the morning after, I know that I would never trade this experience for ANYTHING, despite the outcomes. I know that I am unquantifiably blessed to be Here. Now. (Oh man, saying that phrase always jars me straight back, and flatlines my thought processes.)

Hah! Okay, so I’m done for now J

Much love as always.