The election and... whats up right now.

Warning guys, this is a long one...

Today I found a warawara in my underwear. On my body. Under my jeans, while sitting in my bed. … I have no idea what I can possibly say about that to make it feel less completely wrong. … But, on the bright side, I guess they don’t bite or crawl under your skin or have burning poison on their feet (all possibilities I considered.) Still, totally violating, and I feel a little like I did last year of just wanting to crawl into my mosquito net and never leave.

Clearly, the bugs are coming back. The last several days have reached 95 in the shade, which I must admit bums me out. I was really getting used to the comfort of cold season and childishly, I feel it’s a little unfair that hot season should start in February. Well, it’s March tomorrow.

So, probably more interesting to those of you wondering about Senegal, we just had a Presidential Election here. Peace Corps volunteers were forbidden from going to the regional capitals, and there was certainly reason to keep us out of Dakar, but I’m fairly certain Saint Louis remained safe and relatively calm. The last count I heard was that 11 people were killed in the riots organized by the opposition to current President Abdoulaye Wade. I wish I had more to tell, but I don’t know much. Frankly, if you google it you’ll probably be able to learn more than I can tell you. (Side note, Microsoft Word does not yet recognize google as a word, but does recognize the proper noun Google.) Here’s what I do know: there were 14 candidates total, and it’s hard to say if any of the other 13 have the kind of unified support that could present a legitimate challenge to Wade. I mean, Senegal is doing quite well compared to all of its neighbors in terms of political and financial stability. Wade has been President for something like 12 years, in which I assume Senegal has largely continued to develop. There are certainly problems here, like regular power and water cuts in the cities. The stress of these problems is compounded in people’s minds by what appears to be unnecessary spending on things like Senegal’s Renaissance Monument among others. Please google that one. There’s more… Anyway the election was the 26^th and no one got a large enough percentage of the votes to be declared winner. So, there will be a run-off election in March. I believe it is between only the top two candidates from the first election, who (I believe) are Wade and a guy named Macky Sall.

Interesting stuff, to be sure. I’m grateful that Senegal remains a peace-loving country, and since the election there have been no blaring problems. In fact, we were immediately informed that travel to regional capitals is back on. Which means Sunday night I’m eating a four-cheese pizza. Inshallah.

I’m a little sorry I haven’t blogged in so long. I know there are some of you who are legitimately interested in what I have to say here. And I’m grateful for that. I find that as the year mark approaches, I feel more safe and grounded here than ever, and simultaneously more mystified by the experience than ever. They say most volunteers have a mid-service crisis, and I can vouch that many of my friends here are going through something like what I am. It’s a question of expectations meeting reality, generally. But the more I think about it, my expectations were pretty amorphous, and reality is SOOO amorphous! There’s just this text-book idealism that most of us come in with, that can only really BE amorphous. Like, “I’m gonna go to Africa where there are hungry kids and sick people and I’m going to help them! And also, they’re gonna teach me to dance and I’ll speak their interesting language and eat their interesting food and make interesting friends!” There’s a bit of an inherent assumption of benefaction, that now—to me, in this little context—feels arrogant. First, let me say that I think in a lot of cases Peace Corps volunteers ACTUALLY help feed hungry kids and help people not get sick or have better access to care when they are. I just happened to end up in a village full of well-fed kids with relatively easy access to health-care, which their families make use of! Which is WONDERFUL! But, so, now what do I do? I do dance with them, and they LOVE when I flash my suur bu ndaw (small skirt, a lacy open-weave wrap skirt worn under a real skirt. By the way, this is with the women only). I also seem to be doing alright speaking their interesting language, though I’m still far from fluent. I eat their interesting food, but seriously, ceeb u jeen every single fricking day for lunch has long ceased to be interesting. And I’m totally over the initial gross-excitement of eating intestines and brain. It JUST grosses me out now. I’m sorry. It’s true. Largely the food is good and filling, and for that I am TRULY grateful. In a lot of ways (despite a four month long cold, thank you sandy-windy cold season) I think I’m healthier now, and certainly stronger, than I’ve been in some time, just from all the physical activity. As for the last point, yes, I have certainly made interesting friends. Interesting Peace Corps volunteer friends and interesting Senegalese friends both here in village and in Saint-Louis proper. And MAN has that been an experiment in letting go.

See, making a friend at some level is all about letting go and trusting. I think largely we do this unconsciously. We feel a connection with someone and slowly but surely we get more and more comfortable with just being ourselves around that person. We take for granted the basis of the connection we share. Every friend I’ve ever had in America had some level of shared cultural history as a physical counterpoint to this abstract concept of a connection. I have always assumed some level of shared humanity would do the same for people from any culture. And I still do believe that. However, I am almost daily faced with the challenge of letting go of any specific thing I took for granted as shared. I find discrepancies I never would have expected and also commonalities I didn’t expect. It’s a hugely humbling experience, this. And sweet. Seeing my good friend Sali behave passive-aggressively with her boyfriend in exactly the same self-defeating way I’ve caught myself behaving… didn’t see that one coming (but why not?). My once good friend who seemed to be a strong, modern, hard-working woman turn away from me because I refused to do all the work in the garden myself and bring in a bunch of money to buy a bunch of stuff we don’t need… did NOT see that one coming. By the way, I think the most important connection we share is one that has no cultural basis. No namable or knowable commonality, but simply that legit fact of unity. As Greg Fergusson put it in “Between a Bridge and a River,” maybe a hundred years ago we were both soup molecules in the same bowl.

(okay, hang in there, I’m feeling a link between some weird abstract stuff here…)

It’s also hugely humbling to constantly have people’s perceptions and judgements of me thrown in my face. From people who have NEVER met me before to people who have known me for 9 months, judgement is a fickle, inconsistent, and impersonal thing. Seynabou tell’s me I need to eat more because people will think I don’t live in a good home if I don’t put some weight on. Random jay-kat (salesman) in Thies tells me to stop eating my ice-cream because my belly is big. Ami Kole tell’s me my body is perfect the way it is. Within ten minutes I can have one person compliment me on my fluency in Wolof and another make fun of my lack of comprehension. I have people praise whatever work I AM engaged in, then I have people who accuse me of sitting in my room and eating my money all day. It’s truly enough to make your head spin. And it has. But it’s such a freeing thing to be so openly judged! I think it was the ice-cream guy in Thies that truly made it click. Made it such a living undeniable truth that NO ONE’s criticism or praise can touch you. It usually has nothing to do with you anyway.

(I’m still going here)

So, here’s a thing I’ve been seeing in my ascension. I’m CONSTANTLY making plans!! What to do immediately after I get up, what I want to actually accomplish that day, that week, by the end of my two years. It’s exhausting, when I take it seriously. When I pay attention to it. Thank GOD for letting me see this. It can do its thing and be background noise, but I don’t have to pay attention to it! I’ll still get up and do something when I’m done, and if there’s something I need to accomplish that day, it will come back up and I will act on it if I can, and then usually something else happens. Again, I know, this is not ground-breaking stuff. But I swear, it’s like I live on another planet here and life is constantly being redefined in its every aspect. Plus, let’s be honest, we’re always re-learning and re-learning the important stuff, right? Until we don’t anymore, right, Amrita? The thing is I’m on this other planet for a limited time and there’s some stuff I’d like to actually accomplish. Like actually accomplishing something. And figuring out some personal stuff while I go. So, it’s like this ghost hanging in my mind all the time, juggling what I already have going on toward those ends, what happened ba paree (‘til complete), and what I can do in the immediate or distant future. But, oh my GOSH it’s so simple, I’m missing the magic of NOW by trying to figure out what to DO with the NOW!

Wait. DANG IT! I’ve totally derailed myself again! Now it’s NOW! … This is what I’m doing now, so what is it I wanted to say to tie these three things together? Let’s see, there’s the beautiful and ludicrous experience of seeing my own expectations juxtaposed with reality (and I didn’t even mention how CRAZY it is when reality totally offers me up on a plate exactly what it is I was wanting, to the silliest detail). Then there’s the freedom of seeing other’s expectations of me as totally separate FROM me. Then there’s the distancing from reality of constantly engaging in half-effective plan making. This is some post-modern madness, man (see my paper there-on from Sophomore year Seminar (I’m currently re-reading the book. “White Noise” by Don DeLillo. Recommended). It’s all about freedom, isn’t it? And strength, beauty, peace. All just in letting go! Sailing, flying and burning with LIFE and LOVE.

Here’s a self-judgement. I’m scared enough to post this that I’m gonna re-read it before I do. But in that way it’s perfect too. There’s not enough room here for everything I feel like sharing right now, but a big part of that is that I’m SOooooo not into self-censorship right now, that I’m GOING to post this.

Much love, my darlings. I’ll be home in two months!! WAHAHHHH!!!!!

P.S. Some cool stuff:

·         A baby sheep licked my hand and sucked on my finger. So soft!

·         My friends family “guard dog” is my good friend. Which is AMAZING. And surely totally amuses all my village friends. He perks up his head and squiggles his little tail when I walk in and he soaks up some lovin’ like nothing. So good for my heart. And hopefully a good example set for the kids.

·         Trees are on and poppin’. Pictures when I have better internet. I also planted some carrots, hot peppers and collard greens yesterday.

·         Check out the picture of my new kitchen “nook” (shelf, really), again when I have better internet. Totally makes my room, and my friends think it was a brilliant use of abundant natural materials. Hopefully this is an inspiration to creativity. Or even just copying. I mean, I copied the idea from my friend Marie down in Tambacounda.

·         Aida is upwardly mobile. She can get herself vertical and trundle around when she has something to lean against. She’s even starting to babble in ways that make sense. Like, almost saying my name, almost saying “lunch” and “give me.” She mostly adores me, but today she got really mad at me because I stopped giving her pieces of raw onion (she was just throwing them in the sand).

·         A renewed sense of the preciousness of every single moment and every single person.

Tree's!

I’m feeling a bit guilty about it being so long since I’ve blogged, but this’ll probably be a short one.

I’ve been kind of all-over the place (physically, mentally, emotionally) for the last month, well, maybe the last ten months, really. But I’ll just tell you about one piece of that. I’ve spent the last two months trying to get the women’s group garden my ancien started going again. It’s been a challenge and sloooow going. But, such is the way of Peace Corps life, I think. So, at this point, one pepiñeer has been completely destroyed by big frickin’ lizards. I’m a little pissed that they ate all our tomatoes. They were just babies! But you live, you learn. In the meantime I’m the only one watering the tree’s my ancien planted and cared for. Frankly, it looks good to be going there every day. I’m a hard-liner on this, and it’s a lot of talking so far, people telling me they want to have a garden, but not putting any effort into it (beyond that one magical day we set the whole place on fire…I wrote about that, right?)

So, frankly, I’m having a great time taking care of these trees. My goal is to be like, hey this isn’t hard work, and it doesn’t take long, and see what changes it’s made! So far only little changes, but I think it’s pretty magical. See, sometime during the rainy season or just after it, several of the trees were chopped down to stumps. Yeah, I was suuuuper pissed about this, and super frustrated, but it’s like a legit phoenix from the ashes story. Literally, cause like I mentioned, we burned the place. I noticed that some of these little stumps had little baby branches and leaves at their bases, so I checked them all by scratching the base. To my surprise still others showed green underneath. Since I’ve been watering them, they’ve just roared back to life. Which in and of itself is amazing to behold. These little mangled looking stubs that refused to die! I know, I’m anthropomorphizing, but it gets better. Because they’re like, making different decisions about how to grow! One Moringa has literally NO leaves, but several flowers, so will bear seeds this year (Inshallah). Most, however, are just a bunch of pretty little (tasty) green leaves. And most of the Flamboyant’s have clusters of individual leaf-stems (its two stems that share a base covered in tiny leaves), but this one guy has just shot out a whole dang branch! It’s this fat, super green thing with just the hint of some baby leafies growing out of the tip.

I also have a few baby tree’s in my “backyard” from the little set of tree-sacs I did with kids at the school (I wrote about that too, right?) Unfortunately, I didn’t know to pre-treat the seeds, so only four sacs grew. One grew four seeds, but again, not knowing how to transfer them properly, they died when I tried to replant them in new sacs (I was taught by my good friend this morning what I should have done.) Again, you live you learn. There was one definitely NOT flamboyant guy that just recently started growing with one of the dying flamboyants. It has been coming up for about a week, and still had a hard seed-case on its tiny tip. So, I tried to pull it off. Probably not a good move, but I couldn’t reign in my curiosity. That’s when I realized the seed case was from a baobab seed I’d spit out back there! MAN I hope I didn’t kill that thing. I think I’ll probably try to put some other baobab seeds in the sacs where nothing’s growing. I think they’re super slow growing, but how COOL would it be to have baby-bab’s to take care of??

Well, so really I hope this is somehow productive and that somehow this “trees are amazing!” attitude will rub off on SOMEONE, like, when I start the environmental exploration club at the school (as inspired by PCV Patrick Hair down south (credit where due, ya know?)), which will hopefully happen once I can finally cross paths with the school director, who seems to be missing a lot lately…

So, ya know, in general, this is still one of the most frustrating and strangely stressful experiences of my life, and also one of the most amazing, beautiful, strangely perfect experiences of my life. “The hardest job you’ll ever love” is one of Peace Corps’ slogans, and man, they’re not kidding.

Meanwhile, I’ll be back in the USA at the end of April!!!!! I recently heard about a girl who went back home and was at a dinner with a bunch of people, and when someone asked her to pass some mashed-potatoes or something she grabbed a handful and plopped it on their plate before realizing, no… not in America. So, watch-out guys. You’ve been warned. Also, OH MY GOSH I can’t wait to see all my family and the dear ones I get the chance to visit. LOVE TO YOU ALL!

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.

Christmas shoutout

It feels like ages since I’ve done this. I guess it’s only been a couple weeks. But I’ve got some stuff to say now.

First and foremost, I must give a SERIOUS shout-out to my friends and family who have sent me Christmas cards and packages. Among the amazingness: Lovely cards with lovely letters, Hershey’s dark chocolate, Hershey’s milk chocolate, Hershey’s kisses, four Ghirardelli chocolate bars, one box of Trader Joe’s Holiday Jo-Jo’s (Ginger, AMAZING), almond cashew chocolate trail mix, pecan granola, hand crocheted bracelets, origami Christmas decorations, gravy mix, cheese sauce mix (CHEDDAR!), a cute shirt, two pairs of jeans (not yet received, but I think they’re waiting for me in Saint-Louis), three bags of cheetos (and then there was one…), two boxes of Russel-Stover’s chocolates, Gardetto’s, a giant beautiful sketch-pad (used once so far. Glorious), should I stop? Is this as incredible to read as it was to receive? I’ve been swimming in deliciousness for a month now, and lots of amazing non-food goodies. Winner for best Christmas card goes to Josie for the AMAZING photo-shopped animal family around the back-yard Christmas tree! LOVED that. So, everyone, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Chuck, Aunt Marylin and Chloe, Mom and Dad, Janice and Steve, Josie, Diana, Dorcas, Uncle Steve and Aunt Becky (still waiting excitedly!), THANK YOU and MERRY CHRISTMAS!! I hope all of you and everyone else reading had a lovely holiday season and are enjoying the beginnings of the new-year.

For the rest, I'm sorry but you'll have to wait for tomorrow because my battery is dying.
With love-

This just in...

I just spent 18,000F CFA (almost $40) and an hour and a half getting the perfect dress for new-year’s eve. Do I regret any of this? Only a tiiiiny bit. It would be good if I were better at saving my money and not spending it. But, hey, I’m stimulating the economy. And I was assured that a tourist who Doesn’t come back to the same boutique after an hour and half and laugh and chat with the same salesman in his native language would have been charged 28,000F CFA. Plus, it’s a great dress and I’ve had my eye on it for over awhile actually. But here’s the great part of the story:

While looking I went to a boutique I’ve only been in once before, with my parents when they were here. It was a one room place with just a few racks. They’ve expanded to over twice the size, with a fabulous collection of women’s, men’s and kids clothes and home furnishings. Here’s the problem with all these boutiques: great fabric, great clean lines and stylish design, but there’s Very limited sizing, and the clothes are all meant to be baggy! I know, there’s a place for that, but it’s not new years eve. And every store? Come on. Okay, back to the point. It’s owned by a French woman, but the salesman was a lovely Sereer guy who speaks perfect Wolof. And we conversed. Like, naturally, fluidly, talked and laughed. Come to find out, it’s a fair-trade operation that works with ten villages in the Diourbel region. The local proceeds go to building forages (think clean water from running taps) and heath posts (basic doctor’s offices in the bush). I was already a touch high from just running around “shopping” and chatting with a bunch of shopkeepers (a good Wolof day get’s me a bit high), and when he told me all that, I kind of lost it. Like, almost started crying, but laughed long and loud instead. I told him, “you don’t understand that’s my dream!” Well, it’s definitely one of them. “And you guys already did it! What should I do now?” He very rationally pointed out that it’s only ten villages. So I continued looking, but like I said, it was all baggy, not what I need for tomorrow. And when I left I realized I wasn’t really sold on that idea.

Here’s the thing. Yeah, it’s doing good things. But is it encouraging local culture? Did the local artisans say, "hey let's build a forage with this money!" Is it teaching any of the local artisans anything about taking development or even business management into their OWN hands? Maybe it is, and that would be great, but in theory not a smart “business” move as it would eventually make the French woman unnecessary (she wasn’t particularly kind about my inability to get my mouth to make words in her language. But hey, it’s not her country, right?) Also, maybe it’s doing good things for the source communities, but it’s doing so within the context of the “consumerism is good” mentality. I think I’ve heard something in economic theory about increased consuming being good to increase the middle class, and thereby increase economic stability for the whole country. But, this just seems so old-hat to me. “Lord knows, there’s got to be a better way.” What song is that from? Sure within a business model, if you look at national economies like different businesses, it’s good to get the little guys to play the big guys’ game and get some redistribution of wealth the process. I’m all for that, in theory. But can’t we be working for something better? I think we need a gamechanger. But I don’t know what it is. 2012, any suggestions?

This literally JUST happened. So, I’m sure I’ll be milling it over for the next while. Plus, if I did a boutique like that we’d have cuter clothes in a wider variety of sizes. And we’d be super nice to people who only speak Wolof. Or even only speak Dutch, though we’d have a hard time talking to them…

First let me say: cold season, WTF?? Sorry to use that language. My skin is PARCHED, I’m starting to wake up chilled under my SLEEPING BAG, it’s almost impossible to shower, and people are going to bed early to escape the cold. Just when I adjust… Anyway, there are some serious positives to this. Like, mostly it’s positive. Curling up in bed under a sleeping bag is like… o******c (awesome). Hot coffee, wonderful. Sweater and scarf (THANKS JOSIE!!!!), yes please. Doing yoga again makes sweating feel like a gift. Lower electricity bill. MUCH fewer bugs. Gardening has become a possibility in my mind, because being in the sunshine doesn’t feel like death anymore. So, yeah, yay for cold season! But, just for a point of reference, last time I went to Saint-Louis I showed up in the AM in a sweater and scarf. By noon I pulled the sweater off, checked the temp online, and saw that it was 86 degrees…

Here’s something I know you guys want to know about: WORK! Things are starting to move. At least one of you (thanks Zach) wants to hear more about the library opening. Well, it was an amazing event. Have I mentioned how much I adore kids? Here’s a cultural difference for you: In school here, when the teacher calls out for an answer from the class, everyone responds. Even if they don’t know the answer, it’s better to appear ready to participate than to not respond. So, when trying to do anything with the kids, everything is like a bum-rush. Which is … overwhelming… but awesome. Thankfully Madame Fadima Fall is not only an awesome work partner for this project, but has become a good friend. The teachers are authority figures. Me, not so much, though they get a kick out of it when I put on my “I’m serious!” face. Well, so the opening day was two weeks ago now. I read a book to the kids, Madame Fall laid out a whole plan for management of the library, featuring one representative per class to keep records of the lending, and then it was a free-for-all. Everyone wanted a book, and everyone scrambled to get one. I ended up on sentry duty making sure no one took a book out without having their name written in the notebook, and standing on the front porch pulling one after another of the small kids up from the ground to the 2.5 foot high step. Over and over and over. Bonding. Sweet, fun, exhausting.

So, we’re still going on the library. I made a set of library cards for the kids that will hopefully be an effective record-keeping system. We’re encouraging the kids to write a simple book report for each book they read, and encouraging them to do so with the promise of gifts. Amazingly, Madame Fall has a partner school in the states who sent her a whole big Rubbermaid Tupperware full of American notebooks, ruler, scissors, crayola markers and crayons, Elmer’s glue. So, perfect gifts there. Hopeful that this will encourage literacy in the younger generations and nurture a passion to read.

I’ve also just gotten started working with the women’s group to re-start their garden (I was repeatedly told to wait until the work in the rainy-season fields was over.) So, we all gathered there the other night to clear the land, get rid of all the dried tall grasses. It was amazing fun watching the women work, tease each other, laugh, and work along-side them playing in the dirt-I mean sand. After we got about half-way across the field digging and raking, someone was like, “Hey, let’s just set it on fire!” Well, I wasn’t so into the idea… not sure environmentally friendly… but it was one against about 40. So, we cleared a three foot path on all sides of what was left, and then lit it up. So, imagine a rectangle of dry brush, enclosed on three sides by a wire fence. Now, the leader of the women’s group grabbed some burning brush and started walking down one side, into the fenced in area. So, by the time she got to the first back corner, the fire had spread half way across the front end. There was a lot of shouting and laughing as her face turned to amused shock and she broke into a run to get out the other side before getting trapped in there. We slowly exited the fenced area and stood downwind of the fire to watch it burn. Oh my, my, my. Here’s a chance for a sensibilization waaxtaan (an educational conversation).

Good stuff. Buying seeds today before heading home, hopefully getting it all planted in the immediate future. Then just watering and watching it grow.

In personal matters, I’ve been here for nine and half months. Which just… is unbelievable to me. But I’m already having trouble distinguishing between stuff that I’m long-term habituated to (like, before I got here), and what’s really uniquely Senegalese and would be new to any of you who haven’t lived here. Yesterday I told my family about making Fattaya in village and was genuinely shocked for a second that they didn’t know what I was talking about. (It’s a fish-filled fried dumpling with onion sauce. Yum). But, frankly I now recall my first glimpse of fattaya in Mboro… Even names here, I can’t distinguish between which ones are new to my life here and which ones I knew in the states. Did I really never know a Seynabou or a Fatou before I got here? Really? And my sense of style… well, I’ve always been willing to be a little off-beat on that one, but the color here was once kind of “WOW” almost overwhelming to me, in an enchanting way. And now it’s all just the norm. So, hmm. ::shrug:: not much to say there, just interesting. I still love blue-jeans like nothing else, and frankly thing the young men here look better in them than traditional Senegalese pants. So, that’s not new.

Yesterday was Christmas. Had a lovely pizza dinner with friends, skyped for a long time with my family in the states, mostly my dad, but otherwise it was just another day in Saint-Louis. I almost wanted to grab people on the streets and be like, “Why aren’t you celebrating? It’s Jesus’ birthday!!” But, that’s irrational…

Everything is lovely. I kinda like it here… If only there were free teleporters so I could be here AND be close to my family and other loved ones in the states…

Best cake ever, best day ever (Forgive the superlatives. I'm just in love with my life.)

I guess I’ll start with Thanksgiving, since it was the first major holiday I’ve celebrated away from family. Frankly, the weather is largely so non-American-November-ish it doesn’t feel like it could possibly be the date it claims to be (tomorrow is December!!) Also, without cardboard turkeys in pilgrim hats and shiny shoes with buckles posted in the boutique windows, … I just never got super geared up for it. Also, right before Thanksgiving I spent nearly a month in village. So rather than going to Ndiom for the big Peace Corps volunteer celebration, I opted to stay in the then vacant Saint-Louis apartment for some mostly solitary noppalu. I ascended and slept ‘til I could stop falling asleep every time, then did some more. I crocheted and ate yummy breakfast bean sandwiches. For the day of Thanksgiving I cooked scrambled eggs with Lots of zucchini, green pepper, onion, tomato, and Edam cheese (a break from Ementhal…) which I ate with a friend Senegalese style—tear off bits of bread to grab some yummies. The next day, four of us tried to make a real miniature version of Thanksgiving dinner. I cooked an incredibly yummy (and unhealthy) Tropical dump cake:

1 20 oz can of pineapple in syrup
4 large bananas
1 6(ish) oz can of coconut milk
1 cup of almonds (hey, lots is good, and pecans are probably better)
2 sticks of butter, and…

Cake Mix:
1.5 cups flour
1 cup sugar
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt

Put the fruit and coco milk in the bottom of a pan. Put all the cake mix on top, spread as evenly as possible. Cover with the butter all cut up into slices. Add nuts. Lots and lots of nuts.

Bake at 350 degrees for one hour. YUM!

We were each in charge of one dish, essentially, so there was squash-roll dough rising while patas (a white sweet potato) was cooking on the stove to go in a delicious looking casserole involving apples, raisins, honey and cinnamon, and then the gas ran out. At this point me and another volunteer were on a run to the fast-food restaurant to get a chicken, so we searched for boutiques with gas (not easy to find, especially at 7 PM). We found some, but it (of course, thank you Senegal) did not fit the attachment we had at the apartment. BUT, when we opened the chicken bag, there was bread, and a small mixed salad, and the chicken itself was wrapped up with French fries and onion sauce (of COURSE! THANK you Senegal!) And we ate the casserole anyway. Then we all said what we were thankful for, closing our laptops temporarily to really honor each other’s presences. J

I’ve been back in village for … (why is this always so hard for me to figure out anymore??)… Four days. Three of those (consecutively) have been without electricity. Or, I promise, I would have done this sooner. Just found out this morning, that the reason may or may not be that some guys wanted to watch more international football games by splitting the cable line. Well, they got the wrong line, fried and power station and fried themselves. Or maybe just one guy. I don’t know if this is true… its tragic, if so, and also somehow… nearly Darwin award worthy, right? … Ugg…

In other news, I’m doing the World Wise Schools program through the Peace Corps, which partners me with an American classroom to write letters back and forth. I really wanted to get the kids at my local school involved, especially because my correspondents are in a French class. Yesterday was truly one of the best days of my life. Why? Kids. Crazy, ridiculous, beautiful, silly kids. I spent four hours going from class to class to ask what questions they wanted to ask their new American friends. It always always started with “Is America cool?” Other questions were “Do you have to sweep your classrooms and clean the bathrooms?” “What are your names? Your mom’s names? Your dad’s names? Your brothers’ names? (you see the pattern here…)” “Do you try really hard in school?” My very favorite question was about our President “Does Barak Obama do good work for the people?” but that was kind of tied with “Do you have cows at your houses? Chickens? Sheep? Goats? Donkeys?” P.S. my correspondence class is in Chicago…

Why exactly was this experience so magical? I mean, beyond these beautiful glowing smiling faces (I know I’m crazy in love with the kids here) that just really wanted to participate in this conversation with me. Well, the youngest class conversation ended with a dance party. And, it is just NOT possible to explain the adorable-ness of these little 5 and 6 year olds getting their groove on. For one of the older classes, I was demanded to sing before I left. I have a really miserable cold right now, which I tried to play as a cop out, but they weren’t having it. So, I had a thought. “You guys sing me your national anthem, and then I’ll sing mine.” When it came my turn, I dove into “Ooooh say can you seeeeee” and then forgot the words!!!!! Oh, the SHAME! It kinda came back to me, and after I stumbled over the first verse (and later realized I left out a stanza), I ended with great patriotism and feeling! Oh man. I’m a little afraid of what the teachers think of me now. Every class I entered was sitting quietly doing their work, and was a raucous party scene by the time I left… It was Glorious! I’m grateful for THAT!