Direct from Dakar

Here's an entry I started writing a month ago.

2009-08-27T08:45:00.000-07:00

I want to write about something I’ve been thinking about for awhile, here. But it’s basically the topic of What Is Wrong With Africa, which is kind of a big question, so I’ve hesitated to put my scattered thoughts to paper before I really knew what I was talking about.

Unfortunately, I’m impatient, and have realized that I’m NEVER going to know what I’m talking about when it comes to the big, general, theoretical issues. Just the amount that my views on this subject have changed (especially over the last year) is evidence of how unsure I am about the political, social, and anthropological conclusions I make here. Certainly, I know that when I was younger I didn’t think there was anything wrong with Africa. It was just another continent that I didn’t know much about, maybe wanted to visit one day, and was stressed about learning the countries of for my Social Studies quiz. Gradually my conception of Africa became knowledge of the history of the slave trade, people living in huts, tribal dances, exotic masks, and, of course, crushing poverty. I come from a liberal school system and a liberal family, so don’t think I was ever under the impression that Africa wasn’t as good as the other continents. We the colonizers/slave traders/globalizing forces had screwed them over, and now they were all really poor and at war with each other, but they had rich traditions and cultures and would eventually catch up to the rest of the world, but it was our fault they were behind so maybe we should give some money to Oxfam at Christmas, yeah? Okay.

In high school things became a little more complicated. I knew that we were all too naïve and ignorant about Africa, but I was too naïve and ignorant to know what we didn’t know. (Get it?) I was pretty sure that everything good in my life came from the capitalist oppression of the third world and that most of the riches in the world had been extracted from the labor of poor men and injustice against women. (Still don’t think I was too far off about this.)

Obviously it’s one thing to think abstractly about a continent, and another thing to get to know a country intimately. Coming to Dakar last fall to study abroad showed me just how much I didn’t know.

Here is where I’m going to change from talking about ‘Africa’ to talking about ‘Senegal’. (And I’m going to link to This Blog: Stuff White People Like instead of going on a rant about how people (Americans and white people in general) refer to Africa and not the individual countries. I know I’m guilty of the same thing, so I’m making an effort to notice and stop.)

I don’t think I really understood the idea of ‘cultural differences’ until I came to Senegal. I tend to think of them as just a difference in language and history. Every country has different ways of dancing and singing and storytelling, but fundamentally we’re all the same: We want the same things, we feel the same emotions, etc. But I’m realizing that that doesn’t seem to be true. In the U.S., time is money, and we live very much in the future. Our goals might be long-term or short-term, but we tend to focus (obsess?) on making money and getting things done and advancing and progressing. In France it was pointed out to me that Americans don’t know how to go on vacation. Even when they do, they’re constantly working (Dad, I’m looking at you!) or planning their vacation full of museums and outings and, well, plans. Whereas the French go on vacation just to lounge around on the beach and relax. (I don’t necessarily think this is true, and if it is it’s certainly a generalization about the French. But when someone pointed this out to me it did make me realize that Americans are really bad at relaxing. We just don’t know how.)

Here in Senegal, they don’t live for the future, nor do they dwell in the past. The Senegalese families I’ve lived with and visited seem to live entirely in the present. From reading American self-help books, you would think that a country that lives in the moment would be very self-actualized, and fulfilled, and would have achieved some sort of clarity that we as time/money/future-obsessed Americans can’t seem to grasp.

And in some ways, yes, the Senegalese seem happier than us. That is, they seem to, on the whole, spend less time sweating the small (or big) stuff than us. However, that is not to trivialize the fact that on average their lives are far more ‘nasty, brutish, and short’ than ours. The fact that children die of preventable diseases or that women are denied equal rights is not something to be envied but to be fought against. And I was appalled to realize that Senegal is basically an illiterate country, in that even those who can read… don’t. Reading for leisure or pleasure is basically not done, and with your host family glued to their television 24/7, Dakar can sometimes seem like a free-thinking person’s dystopian nightmare. I think the reading is simply not a cultural value the way it is in the U.S. For one thing, Wolof was not a written language, and there are very few books in Wolof. As I mentioned previously, reading in another language is so much harder and less rewarding than reading in your first language. I mean, would you read the books you read for fun if they were in Spanish and French?

Although I feel as though I understand more about the cultural differences that originally surprised me, that doesn’t mean I accept them. Many NGOs work on translating books into Wolof, and founding village libraries or bookmobiles. It might not be directly saving lives, but I think encouraging children to read (in any country) is one of the most worthwhile things you can do in this life.
So that’s my spiel on cultural differences, I guess. And how I still don’t know what the heck I’m talking about, but now I have a lot MORE to talk about.

Everyone who works in development is crazy.

2009-08-27T08:44:00.001-07:00

Here’s something I learned from the Americans, rather than the Senegalese: I love people who work in development. “Development”, of course, is the very broad term meaning everything from NGOs to microfinance to diplomatic work. It basically means the kind of people who enjoy travel so much that they have decided to do it for a living. Americans or Europeans who I met in Senegal, for the most part, tended to be open-minded, intelligent, intellectual, and generally left-leaning. So, on the whole, my kind of people.

For the most part, I got along pretty well with the other SEM and GENSEN interns. I didn’t always have a huge amount of time to spend with them, due to my travel. Still, when I was around, it seemed like I had hit the people jackpot. At Conn College (no, offense, CC) I have to meet a lot of people before I find a few with whom I really connect, or want to be friends with. The other interns already shared so many of my interests (French, Senegal, Microfinance, Sustainable Development, etc, etc.) that it was much more likely that we would have something to talk about.

I think that’s one of the reasons I’m considering doing something like microfinance for a living. No matter what I’m doing, or where I’m going, these are exactly the kinds of people I want to surround myself with. Even when we don’t perfectly get along, the conversation is certainly never dull!

Funnily enough, one of the people I met there, Josie, is from Irvington, which is about 5 minutes away from my house. I would travel to West Africa to meet my neighbors…

Lost in Translation

2009-08-27T01:22:00.000-07:00

When I went to Bonnaroo, back in 2006, I was really excited to see that one of the groups playing was Senegalese. I’ll admit that I’d never heard of Orchestra Baobab before then, and probably wouldn’t have given them a second look if I hadn’t seen that they were from Dakar. My dad and I went to see them, and they were pretty fun. He bought me the CD, and I listened to it a bit, and was excited to learn that they were performing at a local restaurant/bar/jazz club in Dakar that I’d been to a few times.

To explain what the music is like, I will literally quote directly from Wikipedia. Ahem: “Orchestra Baobab is a Senegalese Afro-Cuban, Son, and Pachanga band. Organized in 1970, as a multi-ethnic, multi-national club band, Orchestre Baobab adapted the then current craze for Cuban Music (growing out of the Congolese Soukous style) in West Africa to Wolof Griot culture and the Mandinga musical traditions of the Casamance. One of the dominant African bands of the 1970s, they were overshadowed in the 1980s and broke up, only to reform in 2001 after interest in their recordings grew in Europe.”

Feel free to peruse the Wikipedia page and click around to find out what a griot is, or about the Mandinga… I’ll have to save those explanations for another entry. Anyway, my point was that, although the band is quite good and I enjoyed seeing them again, it wasn’t the same kind of experience that I have with American music. For instance, when my mom asked if they’d played any songs I recognized, I had to say no. [Left: Orchastra Baobab at the jazz club 'Just 4 U'].

Despite being a compete music-phile, and loving the French language, I can never really “get into” French music the way I do music in English. The problem is that every song in French becomes background music unless I am making a concerted effort to understand what they are saying (preferably lyric sheet in hand). I’m basically fluent in French, but only get about every tenth word in most French songs. The few French songs that I really love to sing along to are pop songs that were drilled into my head by an over-zealous teenage French pen-pal when I was visiting her. Even despite hearing the songs zillions of times, I still had to look up the lyrics in order to memorize them. (Jenifer and Kyo are some of the French pop artists I’m talking about. Think Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys, if you will.) Of course I’m a sucker for Edith Piaf, but I mostly listen to her songs for the beautiful vocals and accent… not for the words themselves.

Perhaps this is stretching it a bit far, but I feel as though this language barrier applies to making friends and dating cross-language barriers as well. So much of the words, tone, and subtleties of language are lost in translation. As someone who talks way too much and way too fast, it’s harder (not impossible!) for me to make really close friends with someone who I only understand even 90% of the time.

Count Your Blessings

2009-08-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

I thought I’d actually jot down a few notes about work, as opposed to endless thoughts on cultural norms and hair styles. Most of my interviews were much quicker this trip than last trip. Having had some experience, I picked up what information I needed and what questions to ask (and which to avoid), which helped make the interviews run faster and smoother. I did, however, get sick of asking the same questions over and over again very fast.

Mainly, I started by asking basic questions about the micro-loan that the individual or group had received. When did they get it? How much was it? Was it divided up or used for a group project? When were the repayments due? What was the project they pursued? I’d ask some questions about the economic activities they participated in, trying to get a sense of what an average day was like for the entrepreneur. I tried to ask a lot of specific questions about equipment and prices and types of goods sold, so as to provide a more detailed picture for the reader. Then, I’d ask the interviewee if they minded me asking some personal questions (no one ever said they minded), and I would ask about the recipients family situation.

I liked hearing about people’s families and children, actually. I tried to stay mostly professional, but I’d often interject, ‘Oh, that’s how old my sister is!’ or to ask questions about if the kids were in school. The worst part was having to ask people how old they were, how many children they had, or how old their children were. About 75% of the time, the person I was interviewing didn’t know the answer to these questions. They would sort of shrug and look at my interpreter or village guide for help. They would put forward some guesses. How old is your oldest child? Twenty-four? Well, she was born in, um, 19….86…, no, 1987, so… [Here I might help them out – Oh, I was born in 1987, so she must be 21 years old, like me.] Yes, they would nod, yes, that’s it. Most ended up counting their children on their hands. Occasionally when I interviewed both a husband and a wife, separately, I would get different numbers of children. I eventually figured out some of the many reason that could have been responsible for what seemed to me to be a bizarre lack of awareness on their part.

It’s not cultural accepted to “count” your blessings. That means that traditionally in Senegal (so, very much in the rural villages and to some extent in Dakar) you do not tell how many children you have, or give your age in years. To do so would be to tempt fate, to dare God to cut short your life or take your children away from you.

In Senegal you give your age using your year of birth, not the number of years you’ve been alive. (Possibly for the reasons mentioned above).

Especially in the rural villages, the number of children that are ‘yours’ isn’t always a simple concept. Senegal is polygamous, and multiple wives can feel a kinship to eachothers children. Some families I spoke with were also helping out with taking care of their nieces or nephews, or had adopted children whose families had died or were unable to take care of them.

I learned to ask these questions in an apologetic manner. I would explain why we liked to ask personal questions. I explained what the Kiva website did, and how the people who financed their loans were often not rich donors but average citizens. Us Americans, I said, we’re so curious! I like to write about your family and the foods you sell so that we can get an idea about what Senegal is like. Despite the fact that I demonstrated that I understood the cultural norms, I was still breaking them in asking my questions. However, not a single person ever appeared to be upset at my questions or imply that I was rude in asking. It gets rather repetitive in this blog for me to tell you over and over how kind, warm, welcoming, and polite everyone in Senegal is, I know. But I can’t imagine people in the States responding as kindly if I had asked something as culturally inappropriate as, ‘How much do you weigh’, to people I barely knew.

After a while it was less shocking to me to have someone look blank at the question, ‘How old are you?’. Still, I had to wonder at the difference between my life and theirs when I found myself asking, “How many children do you have… just approximately?”.

hair

2009-08-24T14:59:00.000-07:00

And for my next act, something completely different!

I got my hair braided a month and a half ago. It was much different than the time last fall when I got my hair braided in a village. Here’s a picture of that time.

Basically, I had sort of thick cornrows all over my head. It didn’t take very long at all to do, and did keep me cool, but of course it looks a little ridiculous on a white person. (The scalp showing through the hair always looked little silly to me.) I wasn’t really going to do it again, but my hair this summer is very, very, very long. I was mostly managing the heat by keeping it in two braids or off my neck, but it was getting tedious to take care of. (I’m growing it out for Locks of Love. Probably.) So, when I got to Diourbel and my friend Ellen told me that she was going to get her hair braided (with weave!) the next day, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Ellen teaches a business management class at a local hair salon/beauty school. Taco, on of the women in charge, started both of our styles, but then the women who are students at the school took over. They did an amazing job, and were super-fast. I’ll try to embed a video of us getting it done. Ellen got multi-colored weave, which actually ended up looking fantastic. I don’t know how she pulled it off. I asked for really tiny braids, which end up sort of looking like normal hair from far away. It took a long time, three hours one day and three hours the next (I had to do some interviews, and they were kind enough to schedule around me), but it was completely worth it. Also, it didn't really hurt me at all. I guess me and my sister pulled each others hair so much as kids that my scalp is numb?

The shells we got braided in our hair are cowrie shells and they are good luck. I took most of my braids out a few weeks later, but I still have a few in, including the shell. (It’s not gross, I wash my hair frequently, jeez.)
Here are our before, during, and after pictures!
[Left: Ellen, before.]
Yes, all the posters have white models.
[Taco showing Ellen the weave.]

[Ellen, mid-braiding]

[Me, yes, my hair is hideously long.] [Mid-braiding, and then Ellen and I posing later with some kids. And the final 'After' picture, a few weeks later, at Ellen's birthday party.]

So, how was Africa?

2009-08-24T14:39:00.000-07:00

As a follow-up to my last entry, I want to talk about being back in the States. Most of you can probably imagine the responses I get from people when they find out that I’ve spent time in Senegal. The people I surround myself with tend to be the kinds of people who love to travel and are interested in countries outside of the U.S. and Europe. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get a lot of ridiculous comments. Even when people don’t come right out and ask me if I lived in a hut surrounded by naked men with grass skirts and spears, I can usually tell from their looks and comments that they are trying hard to figure out if their perceptions are correct.

I don’t blame them. I doubt I could’ve found Senegal on a map of West Africa before I decided to go there. Senegal, particularly, is not often in the news. That’s a good thing for an African nation, but it means that you may have only heard a few things associated with ‘Senegal’ or ‘Senegalese’, or none at all. There’s so much mystery about what is fact versus fiction when it comes to Africa – even if we know that the starving children we see on t.v. are not all there is to the continent, it can be hard to know what else to believe. After all, the Disney movie about Africa that we were exposed to as kids [The Lion King] didn’t even have people in it!

Whether simply responding to, ‘Did you have a good time?’ or telling my friends in-depth stories, I find myself toeing the same line as I did in Senegal. I want to shock people’s perceptions, so I tell them what they don’t expect. I tend to mention the air-conditioned nightclubs with overpriced champagne first, then the amazing music scene, and how my host family is on Facebook. Of course, those aren’t really the things I want to share. My experiences worth telling about much more often concern travel and villages and my experiences without the things I’ve grown up accustomed to. Also, I realize that if I try to portray Senegal as ‘just like the States’ to encourage people to banish their misconceptions about Africa, I’m also being misleading. Senegal is mostly rural, and very poor. I did witness the kind of poverty we can’t imagine in New Jersey.

As in Senegal, I end up hemming and hawing and jumping from story to story, extreme to extreme. Maybe my narratives about Senegal don’t make much sense to those here who are hearing them, but it can be exhausting feeling as though your anecdotes will color someone’s perception of an entire continent. (Especially when you’ve only visited the one country.) I can only try to encourage people to visit for themselves, so they don’t have to rely on my stories!

skin

2009-08-23T21:04:00.000-07:00

I want to elaborate on something I mentioned in my previous entry: about being watched all the time. I guess that sounds pretty creepy, which isn’t exactly the way I meant it to come across. To explain what it feels like, day to day, to be a toubab (meaning foreigner, but mostly white person) in Dakar touches on issues of race and class and "development". These are just some rough thoughts, sure to offend somebody, somewhere.

The closest thing I can think of to compare being a toubab in Senegal to is to being a B-list celebrity. When you walk across the street, or through the market, or into a store, all eyes turn towards you. People are curious to see what you’ll do, and what you’re wearing, and what you’ll say. You can tell that they have assumptions about you. One of the fun parts for me is speaking enough French or Wolof to prove people’s assumptions wrong. Or knowing enough of the cultural lingo/jokes/food references to prove that I’ve been in Senegal longer than the average tourist. However, having the same conversation over and over again is tiring. Much as celebrities must get tired of the fans asking the same five questions, it becomes painful to explain where you’re from, why you know Wolof, and that you don’t actually have any idea how to help people get green cards. (The ‘are you married’ question is just standard, Senegalese women seem to get that one, too. I’m talking about the ‘oh, you’re an american’ talking points.)

The major difference, of course, is that I haven’t done anything worthwhile. To have people stop you and ask you for your autograph because you’ve acted in a movie that touched them, or played a song that they like is one thing. To have people come up and ask you for your story simply based on the color of your skin is a weird kind of superficiality. To call it racism would be an insult to everyone who has experienced actual, negative racism. Still, it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling constantly uncomfortable in my own skin. Knowing that people are watching you and are assuming that you are smart, interesting, rich, connected and enviable creates a constant sense of guilt. I found myself in conversations trying to explain that us Americans were just like everybody else. That I wasn’t rich, and that I’d had to work hard to get to come to Senegal, where I was working, not on vacation. It felt like my duty to educate people about their misconceptions about the States. (Just like I felt the need to respond to the occasionally vaguely anti-Semitic comments I heard.)

However, after playing down my opportunities and singing my we-are-the-world, we’re-just-like-you song, I realized that that wasn’t entirely truthful, either. Of course I was richer than most of the people I was talking to. Maybe not in my own personal bank account, but I couldn’t pretend that my college education and study abroad opportunities were luck or simply hard work on my part. Their conceptions about Americans were partially right, and to deny the incredible advantage I’d had simply by being born a white American would also be ridiculous.

There’s no moral to this story – mostly I just sort of stumbled around the explanation of the division of wealth between the global North and South, mentioned that the riches in the US also appeared to lead to an increase in unhappiness, apologized for not knowing how to get them a green card, and confirmed that I was not, in fact, looking for a Senegalese boyfriend at the moment.

The Beach.

2009-08-23T19:35:00.001-07:00

I've decided not to completely abandon this blog (just yet) but continue to post the memories/stories/rants/wise philosophical insights that I've been gathering and meaning to post this whole summer. It's a good idea for me to keep them all here together, where I canepr look back on them in one place. [Not required reading for anyone else, however, as it will probably be a little disjointed and ramble-y].

Let's start with a depressing story, shall we?

During the time I spent in Dakar, in between village trips, I tried to get to the beach as much as possible. I love to swim, but it was also nice just to be somewhere where I could see and hear the ocean. Very stress-relieving. Of course, nothing in Dakar is completely stress-free, especially for a toubab who is out in public. Walking down a street can be mentally hazardous, let alone hanging out in bikini next door to a mosque. Even so, it was worth it to have the brief respite from work and French and Wolof to head to the beach in Yoff with my fellow interns. Luckily for me, the beach was only about 15 minutes walking from my homestay, so it was easy to head over for a few hours after work or on the weekend.

I’ve been to quite a few beaches in Dakar, and all over Senegal, but for being so close to me, Yoff beach was beautiful and fairly clean. At the main entrance there seemed to be millions of people crowded into a few hundred yards, but head down the beach a ways and it was practically empty. My friends and I would “rent” one of the “huts” for the afternoon, to have some shade and a safe place to put our stuff. My friend Jane went to the beach practically every day, and we always went to the same establishment. They knew us very well, especially since it was the tourist off-season and they didn’t often have many customers. We’d buy food or drinks from them sometime, but mostly we just paid the $3 for the mat and hut and talked with them a little.

As I mentioned before, there is also a mosque on the Yoff beach. I don’t know if I wrote here about the time when I was exploring Yoff, walking near the mosque, and a woman came up to me and told me that “one didn’t wear pants here”. I explained that I wasn’t going inside the mosque, and she said, ‘No, the whole neighborhood. You can’t wear pants here.” I was coming from work wearing long khaki slacks that were neither very tight nor very revealing, and a “work” shirt, so I was completely taken aback and angry. However, when I went back to my homestay mom and complained about the whole thing, she told me that there was some sort of neighborhood ordinance that had just been passed banning pants on women. The mosque that I had been near is located just down the beach from the place where my friends and I spent our time. I’d never really noticed the irony of Senegalese and foreign young people cavorting about in scanty bathing suits right next to the mosque, I have to admit. And the area where my friends and I planted ourselves day after day was certainly more popular among tourists than Senegalese women. However, the beach was always covered in Senegalese men working out in the sand. Other than feeling awkward about being watched and approached all the time (which seemed no different than anywhere else in Dakar), I honestly hadn’t thought twice about our presence on the beach, or near the mosque.

That is, I hadn’t thought about it much until the beach burned down.

Sorry to be melodramatic. But that’s how the information was given to me, as well. I’d just returned from a village stay and proposed going to the beach. “Okay,” said Matteo, “but we can’t go to Yoff, because it burned down. How ‘bout a different beach?” [except imagine that with a really thick British accent, of course.] I was just as surprised as you, trying to figure out how a beach could burn down. I’ve always thought that sand and water were two excellent substances with which to put OUT fire.

Apparently, on the night of a semi-important Muslim celebration, some local men showed up at the businesses on the beach with knives and fire (Torches? Lighters? No idea, so I’m obviously picturing the mob scene from Beauty and the Beast. But it’s probably more like a drunken frat boy mob, actually.)

From what I can piece together, the owners tried to stop them, but were threatened with knives. So instead the owners took their stuff hurriedly out of the main building and watched as the men burned their livelihood to the ground. I thought maybe everyone was being over-excited, and it had just been a small fire. When I got to the beach, everything looked normal as I headed down towards our normal place – but a few businesses down from ours the hut/beach cabanas just disappeared. Instead, all I could see was some leftover burned logs, blackened sand, and torched shacks. Depressing, horrifying, doesn’t even begin to cover it.

My host mother told me that, on the positive side, they had caught the men almost immediately. She said it was the women who had grabbed three of the men that very night, before they could run off. Others had been caught later, and 22 men were in custody by the time I was hearing about it. When I got to our normal spot, the owners were cheerful and friendly as always. I heard their story and tried to tell them how sorry I was for what had happened. “Don’t worry!”, they said, “Please, don’t worry. We’ll have this all back up for you in no time. We’ll rebuild them very fast! Everything for you, we want you to be happy here!”.

Which, although an overwhelmingly nice sentiment, only makes you more guilty when you are already contemplating whether the arson was an act against scantily-clad swimming tourists like you. The owner seemed to imply to us that the men who had burned down his business were doing so on the orders of the marabouts (religious leaders). Obviously, I can’t say one way or the other. My host mother scoffed at that idea, and seemed to think that it was just unemployed young hooligans with too much time on their hands and violent tendencies. However, the businesses that were burned were next to the mosque, and the arson ended further down the beach, away from the mosque.

The upside to this story (okay, there isn’t really one), is that, as mentioned, the area was already being rebuilt by the time I was there. When we worried outloud about how they would pay for this (insurance probably not so much) someone vaguely said something about a relation in France helping pay for it. Although it was a pretty depressing sight for the next few weeks until I left Dakar, we kept going back to them. The Senegalese men and women in bathing suits did not seem deterred either, although the crowds were much less after the arson.

I don’t really have anything else to say about this, without getting too philosophical or tangential. It was certainly the closest to any kind of religious fundamentalism I’ve ever seen in Senegal, and it was completely shocking for me and the people I was with. I think it was fairly shocking to my Senegalese family and friends as well.

I can't seem to find many pictures from before the fire. Here's one from afterwards. The mural on the wall is still there, but you can see the building behind is all burned out. They've already constructed a few new structures for shade, as you can see, and one of the owners is sawing wood for more in the picture.

Back from Diourbel

2009-07-20T08:11:00.000-07:00

I got back from Diourbel on Friday - been sort of busy recovering since then! It was a good trip, but Diourbel is incredibly hot and dusty and mosquito-y. Also my anti-malarial-induced nightmares were really acting up, so I wasn't seeping very well. As a result, I'm a little bit sick, mostly dust-induced allergies. But I'm happy to be back in Dakar, have spent a lot of time with friends at the beach this weekend. I can't believe how soon I'm leaving. Of course I feel like I haven't seen half of what I meant to, and there's so much left that I want to do. However, I'll be really happy to be home. I miss my family and friends a lot (not to mention air conditioning, American food, normal running water, etc, etc.)

Diourbel was one of the places I've been before, last November, so it was really nice (and weird) to be back there. I got to see Astou Ndoye, whom I interviewed last year. She's doing really well, and is basically just as awesome as she was last time. Her kids are, of course, a little bigger, which is always weird to see. And she's even more involved in the eco-village. Astou is really smart and driven, and last I talked to her she was talking to me about her micro-loan. Now, however, she is looking to take on more responsibility within the ecovillage, and maybe help organize micro-loans for other people, or help out with the solar ovens project they have going on. Really, I can't stress enough how awesome she is.

A really cool thing I got to do in Diourbel was that if I interviewed a micro-loan recipient at the ecovillage headquarters, I showed the recipients their Kiva page. It was ridiculously amazing and bizarre to show the borrowers their kiva page, and the little pictures of the kiva members who financed their loan. They were sort of into it, but not as much as I was. I was like, see, isn't this AWESOME!? The money comes from all over the world, but not from rich donors, but people like you and me! We are all helping eachother and it is a circle of life and beautiful global community and ...
And Astou, or whoever, would be like, yes, thank you, that's interesting - can you tell me why I haven't gotten my second loan yet? I've got peanut seed to buy, so it'd be really great if you could tell the people in Dakar to hurry up and give me another loan already.

Can't say I blame them, but it was still fun for me to make the Senegal - NGO - Americans - Kiva - Senegal connections.

Maids Literacy Course

2009-07-14T03:27:00.000-07:00

Things have been pretty hectic here, recently. Some more GENSEN interns showed up a few weeks ago, so I've had a lot of people to talk to and hang out with, which has been great. Another SEM intern came a few days ago, as well, although we're not really sure what he's doing yet. As for me, I'm continuing my Kiva & SEM updates. However, the maid's literacy class is not going so well. It's been so long since I posted that I never really talked about the class.

In Dakar, maids are called "bonnes". They are mostly 15 (or so) year old girls who come from the rural villages to live with and work for Dakar families. Both homestay families in Dakar that I've lived with have had maids. They're not just for the rich, or even well-off. The maids cook, clean, and do laundry. Sometimes they help take care of the younger children, although that isn't their main role. Almost all of these young women are illiterate, and most of them do not speak French. Some come to Dakar for a season, during the vacation, so that they can make money to continue their studies and stay in school. However, most of them seem to have no better options than to work in Dakar for awhile, and then return to the village and marry. Most of them will never learn French, and never learn to read.

A Fulbright scholar a few years ago set up a literacy program for some of these women. Sounds great, but of course, unless a program like that is partnered with a very stable NGO, after the original funding dries up and the Fulbright scholar leaves things tend to go to hell. So right now, even though this program was sort of partnered with GENSEN, they are in danger of failing. Ibrahima, the teacher, hasn't been paid in months. (Although sometimes flaky and prone to not showing up for class, he's kind of a saint. He's told us that even if we can't get enough funding to pay him he will continue to teach the class for free, because these girls deserve an education.) The elementary school whose rooms they use (Class is 6:30-8pm three times a week) is going to start charging them for the space, and they can't afford that. The classrooms are falling apart as it is, the girls are great but don't always show up, and never on time, and they have no curriculum to speak of. GENSEN has decided they want to cut this program loose, so a fellow intern is looking to find another, bigger NGO to work with them.

Does anyone reading this blog have any connections with Oxfam, or big global NGOs that fund women's literacy initiatives?

I'm trying to help them out, in various ways. Mostly, though, when I go to the class to sit in on a lesson, I end up teaching the whole class. This happened twice last week, when Ibrahima didn't show up. I didn't have a lesson or anything planned but I just sort of improvised as I went along.

The thing is, I love teaching. It's not What I Want To Do When I Grow Up, but it's one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done. I'd love to come back here and teach these girls to read and help set them up with supplies and an actual curriculum. But I'm not sure, with only a few weeks left here, what I can do for them.

Anyway, I'm in Diourbel now, doing more updates for SEM & Kiva, and visiting my friend Ellen, who is a peace corps volunteer here. I wrote about her last time. It's nice to see her again, and Diourbel is hot but nice. Very mosquito infested. I'm going to get my hair braided. Appropriation of culture aside, it's too hot to have such long hair without braids. :)

Sorry for such a disjointed post, but wasn't sure when I'd get to update again!

XOXO,
Robin

Fake Blog Post

2009-07-10T10:53:00.000-07:00

This is not an update! Even though I owe you, gentle readers, many. Baal ma! (Sorry). I'm having a bad day, though, with some computer problems and an uncertain prognosis for the Maids Literacy class I was helping out with. Still, I always find something interesting in the Times to take my mind off it.

Op-Ed Column, "Rebranding Africa", by Bono

Interesting article. I'm excited that Obama will be in West Africa, even though he won't be in Senegal. Here is the comment I posted to the article:

Dakar, Senegal
July 10th, 2009
1:41 pm
I am an American college student interning for the summer in Dakar, Senegal. It is my second trip to Senegal, which is the only place I have traveled within the continent of Africa. Reading over the article and the comments, a few things struck me.

I, too, was wary of the title of the article, and the concept of "branding" and "re-branding". However, I don't disagree with Bono on any one point. He is not suggesting that it is a good idea for Americans to make generalizations about Africa - only that since the "Western" population seems to make so many generalizations anyway, we might as well make them well-rounded generalizations. I agree with the people above who have remarked on the concept of speaking about Africa as though it were one country and not a diverse continent with many countries and a multitude of both problems and progress. Educating Americans, among others, about the positive happenings in African nations like Ghana will help lead to a further understanding of how different each nation is, and the diverse issues each state needs to address.

Second, the concepts of "aid" and "development" are often tossed around, especially when we talk about U.S. financing programs in "developing" countries. Dambisa Moyo has recently received a lot of attention for her book, Dead Aid, which criticizes, I believe, American foreign/economic policy towards Africa. Although Moyo comes on a bit strong, I think that an increased effort must be made to scrutinize where American money is actually going. When we supply mosquito nets, are we driving a local pharmacy that sells them out of business? Is the money ending up in the hands of corrupt local officials? Are NGOs starting well-intentioned programs that will founder if the NGO loses interest or funding? I have seen villages where NGOs had introduced solar panels - but once the NGOs folded a few years later, the villagers had no way to get broken solar panels fixed, or update their technology. We need to make sure that economic aid is creating local jobs, sustainable profits, and environmentally friendly business practices.

Lastly, full disclosure: I am interning for a micro-finance organization. While the micro-credit initiatives here in Senegal are not perfect, I have seen many things that give me hope for the future. Kiva.org and their local affiliates are doing an amazing job of making it easy to fund entrepreneurs all over the world with the click of a mouse.

I hope that President Obama makes mention of micro-credit initiatives in his speech, and talks about the need for bottom-up development. We, as Americans, can throw money at the worlds problems all we want (and, sometimes, I think we should) but the real "development" is going to come from within the countries, and the continent. The keys to this, IMHO, are education and empowering women. (I'd love to be a fly on the wall if Bono and Nick Kristof ever get to talking about those subjects!)

/rant&ramble. Hope to see more columns like this in the future. Let's not wait for celebrity guest columnists to see articles about these topics!

Mboumbaye Micro-Management (and other news)

2009-06-17T15:02:00.000-07:00

I've been quite delinquent in posting, I know. To make up for it, I've finally finished posting my pictures from Saint Louis and the Jazz Festival to facebook. (If you don't have a facebook and want to see them, post a comment and I'll put the link up.) It didn't take very long at all - I uploaded the pictures from work, while I was working on other things. I think the internet connection must be much better at the office than it is here in my homestay.

I have a new neighbor, a new SEM employee. Matteo was born in Italy, traveled all over, spent quite a bit of time in London and speaks fluent English with a very thick British accent. He met John Fay, founder of SEM Fund, in China, and found out about the organization. He's been hired as a consultant of sorts, for environmental initiatives. He just got here a few days ago, so he's literally still figuring out what he's going to do for the next six months. It's quite pleasant having someone to speak English to (I'm afraid I've basically talked his ear off for the past 12 hours, straight) and to show around. He lives in my homestay with me, in the room next door. I just helped him get his mosquito net put up.

Funnily enough, he arrives on the heels of two American girls who showed up at the office on Monday, asking for information about visiting the ecovillages. One of them, Meredith, has been corresponding by e-mail with John Fay, who told her to come to the office once she got to Dakar. I was instructed to tell them about the ecovillage I'd just come back from and the other ones I've visited, to see if I could help them figure out where they wanted to go. I ended up talking with length about the ecovillages, helping them plan their stay, taking them to buy appropriate homestay gifts, and getting a delicious western-style lunch with them (they wouldn't let me pay!). It was a lovely afternoon - I didn't feel at all guilty about playing hooky from work for an hour or so to show them around the neighborhood, because the ecovillages desperately need more tourists coming and visiting. I was happy that they decided to go to Mboumbaye and stay for a few days. I'm hoping to see them again this weekend, when they get back. The weirdest part? Over lunch I mentioned that I'm attending Connecticut College... both Meredith and her friend Danica have younger siblings that have graduated from CC. Meredith's brother just graduated this year, so we were both at graduation three weeks ago and didn't know eachother then. Only to meet in Dakar! How bizarre.

I'm leaving tomorrow for a village called Louly Ngogom and will hopefully be back on Saturday. Then I'm hoping to spend my weekend hanging out with Matteo, Meredith, Danica, and Ellen (my peace corps volunteer friend) who will be in Dakar for medical checkups, etc. It should be a wonderful weekend. Ellen is staying until Tuesday - I'm looking forward to introducing her to Matteo (got all these names straight, guys?) because he is interested in the solar ovens project that her Peace Corps site (the Keur Gu Magg ecovillage) is implementing.

So that's what's coming up... as for what I've been up to since I last wrote, I've been sick but also doing actual work! I spent about four days in Mboumbaye, interviewing/talking to the men and women who have received micro-loans from The SEM Fund. Most of them were financed by Kiva.org, so here are the links to their Kiva profiles. You can see that they have started paying back, but soon the page should include the updates that I've written. (I'm not sure what soon means... in a few days, or a few months?)

The interviews went well, although the village stay was far from perfect. I had a run-in with some obnoxious 7-10 year old kids, which somehow left me feeling humiliated and depressed. The "cultural difference" thing is hard to remember when you're trying to figure out why an entire country of kids seem to be brutally rude and poorly raised. However, the family I was staying with, and the young girls who taught me hand games and shell-tossing games were warm, clever, and kind, and more than made up for any trouble I had.

As for the actual micro-loan recipients, I found their stories very similar and positive, with one exception. Most of the groups divided up their micro-loan and the individual members used the money to advance their personal small trade, business, agriculture, etc. However, one group decided to use their loan for a group venture: building and stocking a chicken coop to sell poultry to local villagers. Thus far, the plan has failed spectacularly. It appears to have been thought out fairly well, and the chicken coop was well built, but there have been several economic problems (such as markets and storage for the poultry) that have been impossible to overcome. I think it is highly likely that they will default on their loan, the full sum of which is due in November. This loan was financed through SEM donors, not through Kiva.org, so you won't see my write-up of the situation online. I will post it here, if I get permission to, however, and anyone interested can ask me for more details. It's a little depressing, but the borrowers are fairly blameless and have learned a good deal about their local market from the experience. They have a better idea for a future loan (if they ever get one) that reflects what they've learned about the situation, and they are committed to continuing to sell what chickens they can to pay back the loan, no matter how long it takes.

So here's my question for you all: Who are you, and what do you want to read? It's hard for me to figure out if anyone reads this blog (besides my immediate family, of course) so I never know exactly who I'm writing to. If you read this, leave me a comment! Let me know what you'd like to hear about from Senegal (the food? the goats? the plumbing? interesting wolof idioms?) and what is boring you to tears. Should I stop linking to so many articles about kiva? (Wait, just ONE MORE, I promise!)

I really have to go to sleep now, but I want to put in a quote from the above article that I thought was sort of cute:

Some guy in Mongolia needs feed for his cattle? You and 50 total strangers front him $25 each. A cabbie in Beirut needs to fix his taxi? Maybe 50 other people chip in online. A beauty salon in Tajikistan is running short on supplies? Point, click, loan money.

Metaphorically, it's not giving someone a fish, and it's not teaching someone to fish; it's helping a fisherman patch a hole in his rowboat so he can get on with life.

More pictures to come very soon... although I bet I'd update sooner if people left me comments and told me how much they loved me. What? A travlin' girl needs love!

Avec amour et persévérance,
Robin Mariama

Quick and Shameless Plug...

2009-06-13T16:45:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to write for awhile. And now I'm sick, so this isn't the update. Really, update is coming, but I have a fever and was throwing up my anti-nausea medication (Irony?) all night, so I have a good excuse! This is just to say sorry for not saying anything. Er... and to give you this link to the Against Malaria Peace Corps Fundraiser for Senegal that is being organized by my friend Ellen. Well, it's being organized by the Peace Corps in Senegal, but she's the contact on the facebook event page. :p

I met Ellen last year when I visited Diourbel (I think I wrote about that visit and her on this blog) and she was kind enough to share her bed and mosquito net with me then. She was just moving in to her Peace Corps site... I saw her again in Dakar recently, which was lovely, and gave her the peanut butter I had brought from the states for her. (It's weird the things you can't get overseas.) She's recently gone vegan, not an easy thing to do in Senegal, so I'm gad to give her some protein. Hee.
Anyway, this is a good cause, and a cause I can vouch for in terms of money being well-used and going directly to people who need it. Plus I've given so many shameless plugs for Kiva.org (and more still to come) that I figured I should plug something ese for a change!

Okay. Really, more to come soon, once I am feeling better.

What I'm Doing Here

2009-06-04T05:51:00.000-07:00

My internship here at The SEM Fund is going well. I thought I would update you all on exactly what I’m doing while I’m here. (Other than enjoying the sun and the music!) I’m hoping that most of the next 8 weeks or so will be spent traveling to the different ecovillages that GENSEN has here in the northern part of Senegal. (They’d love for me to go to Casamance, but traveling back roads to get to villages is exactly what toubabs are NOT supposed to be doing – I think my parents would have heart attacks.) I’m hoping to leave for Mboumbaye on Sunday or Monday. It’s just north of Saint Louis, apparently, which must make it very close to Mauritania, so I’ll have at least 5 hours in the taxi or bus to read Middemarch. Once there, I’ll be meeting with each group that has received a loan from SEM micro-credit. I need to gather enough information from them to be able to write an update for both Kiva.org and for SEM’s own website. (These updates are basically the same thing, and will probably be in English although I’ll also provide a French version.) I need to know background information on the village, the group receiving the loan, the business venture being attempted, and how the repayment is going. I’m going to try not to sugarcoat it – if there are problems then the Kiva journals are expected not to gloss over them. However, what SEM chooses to send to Kiva or publish to their website is up to them, so I’ll be interested to see if they make any changes to what I write.

I’m also charged with taking pictures (I know, do I have the best job or what?) of the businesses and ecovillage staff for the website and for Kiva. Basically all of this sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m anxious to get started. I knew things would be moving on Senegalese time, here, but having someone else paying for me to work here (namely CELS and CISLA and Connecticut College) makes me feel guilty about the pace of things. I’ve spent this week writing out the information that I need to know, having some refresher Wolof classes with my old SIT professor, Moutarou, and reading through the documents and guidelines for journaling that Kiva provides its field partners with. Sorry if this is unclear, it’s hard to keep straight all the NGOs I’m working with. GENSEN and CREPS are basically the same thing, and SEM micro credit is a integral part of their ecovillage system. Then when you add in Kiva, it all gets confusing.

While in the villages, I’m also tasked with figuring out how SEM could best be expanded to fit the ecovillages needs. I think they have in mind buying some equipment to lend out to their ecovillage members (equipment for agriculture, transformation of grains, fabric dyeing, etc). To that extent, they are going to (eventually…) provide me with a questionnaire for the ecovillage staff/members. I’m not sure how long it’ll take to do the questionnaire, so in the mean time I’m just going to go ahead and include it as a question in my interviews.

That’s enough work update for now – I have to get back to work! I’m trying to meet with a group from one of the two ecovillages located here in Dakar. We’re having some difficulty reaching the president on the phone, however… ::sigh:: Still, it’s nice to be back in the SEM office. Everyone is friendly (if exceedingly busy). I forwarded them Nicholas Kristof’s article on microcredit in Africa from a few days ago. Ata, who is from here but attended NYU, is teaching everybody English. Tuesday and Thursday are ‘English days’, and from the sound of it, everyone is really good! I don’t know how much of the article they will have been able to read/translate but I’m curious what they thought of it. Here's the link, for those of you who are interested – the comments are more interesting than the actual blog. He also wrote about microsaving in general before that.

Later I’ll try and post an update with my ‘walking tour of Yoff’, which is the neighborhood I’m living in. Ba ci kanem! (See you later!)

Saint Louis JAZZ

2009-05-30T09:34:00.000-07:00

Excuse the brevity of this post, I am not a huge fan of typing on cyber cafe keyboards, and I don't have my computer or an internet connection here in Saint Louis. I got here yesterday evening, and saw the Talking Horns from Germany and then Géraldine Laurent from France.
(The website is saintlouisjazz.com if you want to check it out.)
The hotel I'm staying in is Hotel du Palais. It's more of a motel than anything else, but after calling close to 15 hotels and hostels and hearing that everywhere was full, I was just happy to get a room! It's clean and inexpensive, however, and located right in the middle of the main island, which is perfect.
I love Saint Louis, but my impression last time I was here was one of calm breezes and tranquil streets. Not so this crazy festival weekend - its much closer to the atmosphere at a Dakar outdoor market. It's a lot of fun, but trying to wander around on my own and enjoy the sighst is absolutely impossible. I'm constantly harassed and people try to sell me things or ask me to buy them powdered milk (??) or beg from me. If nothing else, then some random Senegalese teenager will start walking around with me helping me find things and refuse to leave my side. They don't outright ask for anything, and I can't ask them to leave me alone because they're just being helpful. If I ask them why they're walking around with me, they tell me they enjoy my company. Uhhhhh, okay.
I'm going to make a serious effort today to ignore everyone and get some alone time. There's so many things to eat and buy and take pictures of!
More on my new homestay in Dakar when I get back. Hope you all are well... leave your address if you want a postcard!
Mariama

Good Rade

2009-05-25T12:53:00.000-07:00

It's the end of my third day in Dakar, technically. I'm still here in the hotel, Good Rade, until Wednesday or so. I'm going to stay here until I move into my homestay, which was provided by my NGO.

Yesterday, Sunday, I went to visit my old host family for lunch. It was wonderful to see them all again. I think I surprised my host brother and sister and mother and father by giving them huge hugs. Can't remember if that's how you greet people ever in Senegal, but they've hung out with enough Americans to not be too shocked. They're all doing really well. The twins were there, because they're home from school, and the older brother, Babocar, who was in France the whole time I was there, is home now, too. So for once it seems the whole family is under one roof. My host mom even remembered that my grandmother had been sick and asked after her, which was really sweet of her. (They've had a lot of American students and I know they sort of blur together sometimes.)

My host brother drove me to a market so I could get a cell phone and SIM card, which I did. Then I headed back to the hotel, and got some food at the bakery next door. Things are low-key for now. I visited SIT today, and my internship. My boss, Ismael Diallo, was happy to see me and told me that tomorrow we would work out my work and travel schedule and talk about the homestay he's set up for me.

Ate yassa poison today for 600cfa. That's $1.20, and it was delicious!
Also did some shopping, mainly just to walk around downtown and remind myself what I love about Dakar and why I'm here. It's quite odd to be here without other students. I imagine that the hardest part of being here will be finding people to go out with or eat out with. (Not that I lack for friendly overtures, I received three implied marriage proposals today.) Still, I'm happy to be here and OH, I forgot to say, the weather is AWESOME!

I almost wish it was worse, so that I could adjust to that and then know that it couldn't get any hotter. Instead, it's balmy, breezy and sunny. I'm not even sweating! I know July, and maybe even June, will be much more humid and hot, but for now it's glorious.

That's all for now, I'm gonna go to sleep and have some anti-malarial-induced dreams!
Mariama

Maangi fi!

2009-05-24T03:58:00.000-07:00

Maangi fi rek is the response to 'Nanga def?' The whole exchange means, basically, 'What's up?' and 'Nothing much'. But literally maangi ri rek means 'I am here, only'.

And I am here. In Dakar. I got here yesterday, around 6am. My allergies/congestion meant that our plane's descent and landing into the International Airport of Leopold Sedar Sengor in Dakar was marked, for me, by intense head and ear pain and vague thoughts that I might be about to die of an aneurysm. The guy next to me, who was continuing on to Capetown, kindly gave me some gum and seemed completely perplexed when I (wincing and teary-eyed from pain) managed to start bouncing in my seat with joy and excitement as we landed.

So, what I'm trying to say is that even though I still have a headache, I'm freaking out and thrilled to be here.

Well, also, I'm thrilled that I passed the visa and security check, considering that I forgot my yellow World Health Organization card that certifies that I got my yellow fever shot. You're not allowed to enter the country without it. Mine is in my mom's purse. See, mom, I TOLD you I was forgetting something important! And you were like, it's okay, whatever it is, it's not important, we can mail it! And... well, you were right. They didn't even ask me for it. :)

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT TO BE TAKEN AS ENCOURAGEMENT FOR FELLOW TRAVELERS TO TRY AND ENTER AFRICA WITHOUT YOUR YELLOW WHO CARD! Seriously, I'm gonna have to have my mom and dad mail me mine just in case anyone asks for it.

Gee, this isn't very interesting yet, is it? Well, I couldn't sleep on the plane, so I slept most of yesterday, and haven't really done anything yet! I'm staying at Good Rade, the hotel where my SIT study abroad group was put for orientation last fall. This means that everything is familiar, from the staff to the rooms to the mind-blowingly delicious croissants and weird water with food coloring and sugar that passes for orange juice.

I'm off to visit my host family and the store now. I promise that future updates will be less about airplane headaches and more about Culture and Experiences and Learning and such.

jamm ak jamm,
Robin who is Mariama again

Direct from Jersey...

2009-05-21T22:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, all. I am staring my blog again before i return to Dakar for my (supposed) internship with The SEM Fund - hopefully I'll keep you posted here on what I'm doing. It all depends, of course, on how much computer access I have, and how the power outages affect my stay. Not sure exactly where I'm staying or what I'm doing, so far, so it should be quite the adventure. But clearly I'll be saving the world and empowering women, so stay tuned!
(And leave me lots of comments to keep me sane as I sweat to death in my favorite mosquito-ridden country).

Avec beaucoup d'amour et gros bisous,
jamm ak jamm,
Robin

chanting on the shores/ of africa

2008-12-11T18:24:00.000-08:00

As I predicted, my huge research project has led to radio silence. So sorry!

I’m now at Mbour, with the other students, in a nice hotel on the beach. The weather is perfect, and the beach is fantastic. In fact, it’s almost chilly at night! We are giving our oral presentations of our final projects here, letting our fellow students know what we’ve been up to for the past month. Some of us have been away from Dakar, including myself. I’m presenting tomorrow with the last batch of students. We’ll head back to Dakar on Saturday morning and our flight leaves on Saturday night. (I stay over in Paris for a few days, but then I’m home again. Too surreal to even contemplate right now…)

My ISP has been an intense experience. I traveled to two villages for about a week each, and then spent the last two weeks in Dakar, doing more research and writing the final paper. Anyone who wants to see a copy of my paper or power point presentation when I get back, I LOVE talking about my subject so feel free to ask!

I think I might be the luckiest out of my program, in terms of farewells. I’m the only person who knows for sure that she’ll be coming back here again (inch’Allah) so it makes it easier to say goodbye to Senegal. Easier, but still not easy. I can’t even begin to imagine the culture shock of being back the US but right now I just don’t want to leave this country. We went to watch a lutte (Senegalese wrestling, the national sport here) on the beach. It was sort of a theatrical presentation for the tubabs/tourists, with dancing and such, so it felt a little fake and voyeuristic at first. (This is a resort area with lots of French vacationers). However, it was such an incredible display that I decided that if they were willing to share their culture with me, I wasn’t going to waste time feeling guilty about it!

Today we also visited Joal and an island made entirely of seashells. Really! It is an interesting place, because the majority of the population there is Catholic, quite the opposite of Senegal. There was a very beautiful church, with mosaics and modeled after the traditional African hut (but, obviously, bigger…) instead of the european-style. I really enjoyed it, and our guide was quite nice. He spoke good English as well. Maybe if I can convince my parents to visit me in Senegal I’ll take them back there… just a thought.

Too many thoughts! I’m insanely excited to be coming home, and insanely excited to stay in paris for a few days and visit the friends I have there. (Both French and American study abroad students.)

That’s all for now, sorry to be brief, but it’s so odd having less than 48 hours left on this continent that I find it hard to organize my thoughts. Love you all,

Robin

p.s. My mom asked me to summarize my findings of my ISP in 25 words or less. Even better, here’s a haiku:

Senegal is poor

Can micro-credit change things?

The answer is yes!

Oh, you haven't seen the last of me.

2008-12-05T12:20:00.000-08:00

You might be thinking that you're done with me. That, seeing as how I'll be home in less than two weeks, and leaving Senegal in about a week, you won't have to be reading this blog much longer. (I mean, I don't even know who is reading this exactly, but...) So you think you're done with my travels, eh? Well, guess again. I give you: Direct from Dakar, Part Two: The Internship!

Today I can finally say with certainty that I will be back in Senegal next summer for my CISLA internship! (cisla.conncoll.edu will explain that further, if you're interested). I'll be back here in late May, and working for The SEM Fund/GENSEN from May 25th until July 31st, based here in Dakar. I'll be traveling around however, to the ecovillages (including Diourbel and Palmerin, where I have already visited) to do work for the NGO. It's not completely clear every specific of what I'll be doing, but I'll likely start out doing journal entries for Kiva.org, and collecting data for the NGO on their loan recipients. I think if all goes well and I settle in nicely, they're going to ask me to teach some technical skills classes in some of the villages. What they really need is business management. While I'm not exactly qualified for that per se, I am in touch with a woman here in Dakar that runs ANOTHER NGO which teaches women about business management. So, hypothetically, she could teach me to teach others. Also, I could definitely give English, French, or technology (computer) classes, on a rather informal basis.

Anyway, this is all very exciting, because most students in my CISLA program don't get their internships confirmed until next semester. I'm always stressing at the last minute about things, so it is a huge (and exciting) relief to have dates and accomadations set! My program pays for my housing and such, so that I can work for the NGO for free. So, that's it. I'm definitely coming back. This couldn't come at a better time, because I definitely don't want to say goodbye to Senegal. If I didn't have so much work to do on my ISP still (I'm writing the report and preparing my presentation now) I would be freaking out about leaving. At least this way when I leave I can say... "ba bennen yoon, inch'allah!" ('till next time, god willing).

Yay!

Apologies and excuses!

2008-12-01T04:54:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not posting... we are moving into the crunch week of our ISP, when we're supposed to be putting all our data together and analyzing and writing and... you get the picture. Very busy.
I have finally gotten to experience a little of the Dakar nightlife, however, by helping Zoe do "fieldwork". Ha. Somehow her project means that she has all this insider information and contacts in the high-flying nightlife of Dakar, so we went out the past two nights to a restaurant and a club and danced and had some fun.
Also...
... I saw Youssou N'dour! Now I can leave Senegal happy! We heard him do a few songs at this big free concert at the stadium here. We also some of the other big names of Senegalese music, but I must admit I don't really know any of them. Except for Titi, a female singer who is insanely popular here, who sang right after Mr. N'Dour. It was very fun, and VERY interesting to see the cultural differences in crowd reactions and shows of appreciation.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, I really have to work, though! So many stories and pictures for you all when I get home though... which is not very far from now!

Back from Palmerin

2008-11-26T05:20:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Dakar, as of a few hours ago. (No internet in Palmerin, so no blog updates.)
I'm very busy trying to work, and also I got up at 3AM this morning to get here, so this is just to say that I had a fantastic time there (beaches, palm trees, baobabs, sunsets and such...) and I want to take everyone I have every known back there to see it! My interviews went well as well... I was getting sort of bored by the end, to tell you the truth, asking the same questions over and over, and I was mostly thinking about all of the final putting-together work I have to do, but everyone was very nice and welcoming. The women are phenomenal. The stuff they're doing ranges from small to sort of medium-size enterprise, but everyone thinks big. Ah, too much to say, too little time!
Happy almost-Thanksgiving!

For Poppop's men's discussion group!

2008-11-21T14:37:00.000-08:00

SEM Fund Kiva Page

I have found the SEM Fund profile on Kiva.org, for anyone who is interested! And here is a link to some of the groups from Keur Gu Mag in Diourbel (wolof is spelled out in many different ways, because it's not originally a written language, remember). The site is the SEM site, but each group links to their kiva loan page. I met with groups from Jabbot, Propaf, Tocossone, and Kheweul. (And maybe others, but those are the names I recognize.)
SEM Fund Diourbel page

I also found that a Kiva Fellow (volunteer) who visited Senegal to meet with Kiva's partners in the area visited Keur Gu Mag, too. Ibrahima Faye showed me a picture of him that he had in an album, so I was surprised to see the same picture when scrolling down the Kiva Fellow blog... here's the link to the Fellows Blog for Senegal. The picture I'm talking about is in the entry called 'Happiness'.
Kiva Fellow Senegal Blog

Wow, that's lots of links. I'm clearly procrastinating, but at least you, dear readership, get to reap the benefits of my web-surfing!

the beginning of the end

2008-11-20T11:08:00.000-08:00

I'm quite happy to be back in Dakar. It felt like a homecoming, much more than the other times when we have come back from trips away. I finally feel at home in this city, like I could say that I lived here for a short while without qualifying it as "well, sort of" or "not really". Of course, this realization comes at the same time as my realizing that I have no mental (or actual) map of the city and can't get anywhere without a taxi. Oh, well.
My schedule seems to be somewhat figured out for the rest of the ISP period. I leave Dakar again on Saturday (hopefully very early in the morning) for Palmerin. I should have Saturday afternoon and evening and all day Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to do more interviews and research. I haven't decided if I'll come back late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning, but I'll be back in Dakar for the Thanksgiving dinner that one of the other students is hosting. (Her family is coming and apparently her mom is going to re-create every aspect of a traditional thanksgiving dinner. Fear not for my holiday meal!) Then I'll stay in Dakar after that, doing some more research, interviewing people from my NGO and writing my final paper and preparing the oral presentation. We have a few days down in a nice hotel near Mbour, as a sort of exit-orientation period, where we give our presentations and relax by the beach and say goodbyes. We go back to Dakar on the 13th and grab our bags and those of us who leave together on the group flight will head to the airport! I'll leave with the group but stay over in Paris for a few nights and be back in the states on the 17th or so, I think. It's all very fast approaching and sort of exciting. Given the mini-breakdown I had in front of the ice-cream section of Casino the other day, I'm finally starting to feel homesick! (Breakdown in a silly way, not in an actual breakdown way)(Casino is the French chain of supermarkets here, so it's like a slice of western/pre-packaged/expensive/organic/air-conditioned/materialistic/clean goodness in the middle of the goats and dusty streets of Dakar. We all sort of lose it when we're in Casino. I won't tell you how much I spent on cheese the other day...).

Anyway, that was a grammatically convoluted paragraph, but what I'm saying is that I miss you all and I'll see you sooner than you think!
xoxo,
Robin

diourbel, day 5...

2008-11-18T08:20:00.000-08:00

Still in Diourbel but leaving tomorrow morning for Dakar. Won't I ever be pleased to get back to my computer with the keyboard that doesn't stick and such! Had, I think/hope my last interview today. At least for diourbel. Tonight I'll try and squeeze some more information out of Ibou and photocopy some eco village paperwork and then tomorrow morning i'll stay just long enough to go to their meeting with the UN group that is helping them with their solar oven project. I'm planning on leaving right after, 1pm at the latest, so I'll probably leave around 3 at the earliest. Senegalese sense of time is quite different, you know.
I'm a little stressed about getting my audio files back to dakar and getting them translated and transcribed and everything, especially since I'm planning on only spending one or two days in Dakar before leaving for the second eco village in Palmerin. I also need to go to a tailor, just for fun and shopping purposes, but what with all my meetings and tabaski coming up (big muslim holiday) i dont know when i'll have time to go or if they'll be too swamped with work to see me.
Despite these little stresses, I'm doing well and having fun. I'm feeling much better, the cold persists but no more sore throat. Also there is a magic plant that cures colds and athsma here. I'll try to bring some home with me...
xoxo,
robin

2008-11-17T02:28:00.000-08:00

So far things here have been pretty up and down. The food is amazing! Last night I had this crazy salad with pasta and apples and saucisson... my friends in Dakar would kill me if they knew what I was eating... really good ceebu jen for lunch every day, with lots of stuff in it. The focus groups/interviews are going well, I think, but Im going to have a lot of work to do when I get back to Dakar. I hope I don't go back and think of something I needed to do here.
The people are nice. I had a sort of bad experience while trying to find a cyber cafe Ibou's daughter, Khady, because we ran into some of her guy friends and they were a little bit obnoxious and rude. Not intentionally, but they dynamic between them and Khady made my feminist hurt. Hard to explain on this crappy keyboard. Did I mention yet that cyber cafes SUCK?
But things are going well here and I just got some e-mails from back home that made me smile. And Ellen is very nice and good company... it's always nice to have someone to bounce things off of. And she likes Buffy. Enough said.
ahhh gotta go

2008-11-15T05:53:00.000-08:00

Diourbel is fine. Not as hot as I was scared it would be. The focus groups have started... whether or not my consent forms are good enough for Conn IRB remains to be seen, but I'm attempting to do everything by the book. I had BOW TIE pasta on plates with silverware last night!!!! crazy!!! and french cheese!!! The peace corps volunteer's name is Ellen. She's very nice. Cyber cafe keyboards suck.
robin

Delays

2008-11-13T08:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't left for the Diourbel yet, although I was supposed to. I've been sort of sick (mostly a cold/throat thing) for a little while. I was hoping it would get better, but it was worse, and I couldn't imagine doing four hours in a crowded taxi over bumpy roads while I was feeling feverish and nauseaous. I'm feeling a little better now, however, so I'm leaving tomorrow instead. I'm also trying to get lots of paperwork sorted out for college, which is proving to be quite a hassle. I've already submitted all my information about 'human subjects research' to the SIT IRB board, but now Conn needs me to do all the same stuff over again. Which also means I'm going to have to translate my informed consent form and questions back into English. I need to be able to use this research in the future and at Conn, so I'm trying to get them all the information they need... but since I could be doing interviews and focus groups as soon as tomorrow, I realize it's getting into a bit of a gray area.
So I'm going to go translate and explain and add new signature lines on the consent form and such technicalities and take some more meds and drink lots of water and hope that it all works out okay!
I've moved out of my homestay and into a small apartment (if you can call it that) with my two girlfriends here. It's two rooms and a bathroom, a rooftop place that another student's homestay family regularly rents out to SIT students during the ISP period. (ISP = independant study project). We pay to eat with the family, too, so it's practically like another homestay, but it gives us a measure of independence that's really nice, and there's wireless internet here. However slow, it's very nice! I'll only be here on and off when I come back to Dakar from traveling, but the other two girls, Zoe and Jaime, are living here for the whole month.
Bye for now, wish me good health!
Robin

Microfinance in Senegal and a long technical blog entry

2008-11-10T14:48:00.000-08:00

Just got back from the 'Jardin Thailandais' here in Dakar. If you've got a copy of Lonely Planet travelers guide for Senegal, you can read about it. It's not necessarily the best Thai food ever (although it's very tasty) but the atmosphere is fantastic, and the gorgeous patio out back where we (as a large group) tend to eat, is very oasis-like.
I splurged a little more on food and dessert (caramalized lychees!!!) than I normally would do, but it was our last dinner together as a group before we all disperse to pursue our various ISPs. ISP is independant study project, and we all have developed our own projects during the course of our semester here. We get 300,000 cfa for the month, so it's both an excersize in doing our own research and doing our own budgeting! Because I'm hoping to come back to Senegal next summer and do a bigger research project, I'm going ahead and using my time and project here to provide a basis of study that I hopefully will be able to work off of in the future. I'm going to copy-paste my long and boring ISP proposal here, for those of you to whom I haven't already explained at length my project. Sorry it's so long, but feel free to skim/skip as you wish!

Abstract/Project Summary
For my independent study project I will do a research paper on the topic of microfinance. I am specifically interested in micro-credit, and the impact of small loans on financial development in Senegal. The bulk of my research will be done while visiting Keur Gu Magg in Diorbel and Palmerin, two “ecovillages” supported by GENSEN. In my final paper I will present information a out what an ecovillage is and how it functions, as well as look at the implications of the micro-loans given by The SEM Fund to women in these ecovillages. (The SEM Fund is another NGO which works with GENSEN). I am especially interested on micro-credit’s impact on women’s financial and social situations in rural Senegal. Microfinance is an inherently gendered movement. It focuses on loans to women, who are both interested in and capable of bettering themselves and their families through these loans and repayments. I want to study how these loans and microfinance institutions (MFIs) impact communities as a whole, and especially on gender roles within a society. My ISP will hopefully provide a base of information from which I can pursue further research (possibly next summer) on the impact of micro-credit on gender relations and women’s self-esteem.

Background to the study
The concept of microfinance was recently popularized by Muhammad Yunus, a Bangladashi banker and economist. While visiting the very poor village of Jobra, he realized that it would only take a small amount of money to help the women there break the cycle of poverty and become financially stable. He founded the Grameen Bank in 1983, to serve as an institution which offers small loans without demanding collateral. Instead, the Grameen Bank relies on a system of ‘solidarity lending’, in which every person who receives a loan must belong to a smaller group of borrowers, whose job it is to support and oversee the lending process. This diminishes the bank’s risk and makes it possible for them to offer access to credit without demanding collateral. The Grameen Bank has expanded rapidly and, along with Muhammad Yunus, it was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006. The microfinance movement has attracted so much positive attention that the United Nations named 2005 “The International Year of Microfinance” to raise awareness about the movement, which has spread across the globe.
Micro-lending is a relatively new concept, and because of this there haven’t been many long-term studies of its effects. There have been some criticisms of the industry, some of which I would like to address in my research. It is important for microfinance organizations to look at the long-term well being of the participants, and monitor how the loans are actually being used. In some cases in Senegal, women who receive loans do not know what to do with them, and end up lending the money out in smaller sums to relatives or trusted friends, or letting their husbands take control of the loan. This, in many ways, defeats the purpose of micro-credit.
Microfinance has also rapidly spread to the digital world. Many of the microfinance organizations around the world have begun expanding their services online, linking lenders and borrowers half a world away. Kiva.org is a powerful example of a website which allows users all over the world to lend money to projects in developing countries and then monitor how that money is used.
Although Senegal is more politically stable than many of its neighbors, much of the population lives in poverty. Its highly rural population makes it a good candidate for microfinance ventures. Senegal is also a country where the majority of the population practices Islam, while the government remains officially secular. However, polygamy has been legalized, which makes Senegal an interesting study in gender relations. Microfinance has existed in many forms in Senegal, including a tradition of ‘tontines’, which are women’s lending groups and have deep roots in Senegalese tradition. Senegal also has a number of growing microfinance NGOs, one of which is The SEM Fund. The SEM Fund is a non-profit which began in 2004 with a pilot program of microfinance tested in a rural subsistence farming village of Louly Ngomone in Senegal. With the success and expansion of the program, the founder, John Fay, created the SEM Fund in 2006. Although the program is relatively new, its documented success is inspiring. It has opted to join forces with the Global Ecovillage Network, Senegal (GENSEN). This is an organization that supports village that are attempting to live sustainably. The SEM Fund provides socially and environmentally conscious loans to groups of villagers seeking to improve their individual financial situations and that of their village.

Specific objectives
I would like to witness first-hand how the microcredit industry works, and the effects it has on a population. My research will look into how microcredit has been used in the past, and ask questions about the effectiveness of the micro-loans and possible means of improving the microfinance system in Senegal. By researching and working in Keur Gu Magg and Palmerin, two of GENSEN’s Ecovillages, I will be able to study firsthand this developing industry which holds such promise for the third world, and especially for women. I will also include in my final ISP information about the specific ecovillages, including how they work and the effect they have on the financial and social well-being of their inhabitants.

Methods
My research will consist of participant observation in the daily life of an ecovillage, as well as archival research about microfinance and women in Senegal. I will conduct focus groups with the women and men’s groups already formed in the ecovillages, and use those focus groups to determine which participants would be good candidates for individual interviews. I will also seek out information from SEM Fund and GENSEN employees to round out my research, and, if relevant, conduct individual interviews with loan officers in the villages or in Dakar. I will then translate relevant portions of my interviews into English for my final paper and presentation.
Microfinance is a hot topic these days, as much of my background research showed. Yet it has not been around and popular long enough that there are many specific case studies of specific states. This is true especially in Africa, where microfinance initiatives are just developing. Many books and articles attempt to shape the current discussion of micro-credit, and influence the future of this growing movement. I hope that by doing research in the field, the information I gain from the focus groups and individual interviews will make up for any difficulties I encounter doing archival research.
I envision the most difficult part of my research will be to maintain neutrality in the ecovillages. I will be accompanied by a ‘facilitator’ from the ecovillage, who will serve as my informant and possibly my translator. It is important for this not to influence my research or my informant’s responses. I imagine that writing the ISP I will also come across ethical dilemmas, such as we discussed in class, in terms of being critical of an organization with whom I worked closely. In addition, I will be hoping to come back next summer to work again with SEM Fund. However, in being up front with the organization about my research and my open-ended research questions, I can hope to avoid any future awkwardness.

Project Calendar:
November 8-12: In Dakar, preparation for Keur Gu Magg, meetings with SEM Fund and GENSEN personnel, and moving into living space in Fass-Casier.
November 12: Depart for Keur Gu Magg, via taxi sept place.
November 13-16: Orientation in Keur Gu Magg, exploration of the village, focus groups and individual interviews.
November 17: Depart for Dakar
November 18-20: Preparation for Palmerin, meeting with advisor.
November 21: Depart for Palmerin
November 22-25: Orientation in Palmerin, exploration, focus groups and interviews.
November 26: Depart for Dakar
November 27: THANKSGIVING
November 28- December 9: Archival research, interviews with SEM Fund employees in Dakar, writing the ISP, arranging future study.

So anyway, if my blog entries are a few and far between for the next two weeks, it's because I'll be traveling. I will be back in Dakar for good around Thanksgiving, though, so hopefully I'll have much to say. I'm really excited about this, but obviously the project is still coming together. If you're really really really interested in all of this (and why wouldn't you be?) here are the websites for the two NGOs that I'll be working with:
www.sem-fund.org
www.gensenegal.org

Okay, more interesting updates to come, inch'allah!

Love,
Robin

p.s. inch'allah means god-willing, and it is used CONSTANTLY here as a sort of 'knock on wood' thing, and I've become quite fond of the expression.

pictures

2008-11-07T11:53:00.000-08:00

http://picasaweb.google.com/rcm1030

Here is where I will be uploading ALL my pictures from now on. I'm going to try and label some of them, so if you want to wait for some of the commentary, hold off on checking it out. Facebook just isn't working at all for my pictures and I want to put them online so people can see them, so up they go! It still takes a long time to upload, so sorry if they don't all come at once, but at least it's working!

Love,
Robin

Si, Nous Apparemment Pouvons

2008-11-06T05:41:00.000-08:00

Heather asked me, via facebook, what it was like finding out in Africa. The truth is that the finding-out of it was all very american, despite the fact that we were all very aware of where we were. It's the aftermath that is incredible to experienc here.

Here in Senegal, we are required to carry around an ID at all times. (everyone is). When I got to the university cheik ante diop today to print some stuff out at the cyber cafe where I am writing this now, there were some uniformed officials at the gates of the university checking IDs. It's the first time I'd actually been checked, so I was sort of nervous. (Once an SIT student didn't have her ID and there was a check at a nightclub and they spent the night in jail before SIT came and brought their passport! Unless that story is just a scare tactic by SIT...).

Guard: I.D.
Me: (not understanding) Do you have to be a student to get in?
Guard: I.D.
Me: Oh, okay, I.D. Um, I have this. Is that okay?
Guard: ...
Me: Is it enough?
Guard: (nods)
Me: Ca va?
Guard: (handing it back) You're an American, then.
Me: Oh, yes, American, yes, me, right.
Guard: (seriously) Maintenant, nous sommes tous les freres, eh? (Now, we are all brothers. but it sounds silly in english). Obama, eh?
Me: Oh, yes, Obama, thank you, I'm so happy, we're all so happy, here, see my pin? It says Obama!
Guard: So you're American. How does one get to the states?
Me: I mean...
Guard: Is it easier if you have an American wife?
Me: I mean, Senegal's nice, too, why not stay here?
Guard: Because my brother has an American wife.
Me: Isn't that nice. Um, go Obama. And, ah, I'm going to the cyber cafe now.

So things change but they stay the same, too. I still talk politics with everyone I meet here, like the guy sitting next to me waiting for me to finish writing this so he can talk to me some more. I have no idea who he is but I just finished explaining the theoretical differences between democrats and republicans versus the actual differences now. Then I ranted about church and state and the evangelical south. All because he started talking to me about Obama. The difference now is that instead of talking to people about politics because I feel the need to excuse my country, they come up to me and say 'Hey, american! Congratulations!'. All this is just to say that I have NEVER been so proud to be American in my life, and I hope to keep this feeling for a long time.

Gotta run back to school now. More later I hope!

My African Feminist Manifesto: Rated R for strong language and "western" content

2008-11-04T04:43:00.000-08:00

In some ways I just cannot BELIEVE that it's taken me this long to get angry here. I log into my computer to write this, with hands shaking with anger, and the Buffy screenshot that is my desktop background reminds me once again how very far away I am from home. From the easy feminism of Joss Whedon. Even Grey's Anatomy seems like a radical feminist manifesto right now.
French class today. Where to start? The conversation didn't even start until the very end of class. Let me try to explain how it developed. Keba, our French professor, decided that after a long class of subjonctive grammar, we would spend the last half hour doing Senegalese riddles or some such. We didn't get past the first one however, so let me tell it to you to try and convey what sparked this rant. Please excuse the poor translations from French. The riddle is: What one thing can you tell a family that will make three people happy and proud at one time? We guessed around a little bit. Evie suggested that if you tell the family that their child is handsome or smart, it will make the parents happy as well. Keba said that was close. I suggested that the child resembled his parents. Keba said that I had gotten it, but to be more precise it was that the child (let's say a son) looked like his father. When we asked why the answer was that the child looked like the father, specifically, he pointed out that sometimes if a wife cheats on a husband and becomes pregnant, it's possible for her to keep the child and pretend that it is her husband's. Therefore, to tell a family that a son resembles his father is to make the father happy with his wife's fidelity, and to make the wife happy that she has given her husband proof of her fidelity. And I guess the kid's just happy that he looks like his dad. Whatever. We got the riddle, and it makes sense, of course, but we pointed out that there was a little bit of cultural sexism hiding behind the theme of the joke. Keba disagreed. (I mean, that's the understatement of the century, because that's what sparked the half-hour long charged discussion that left most of us incensed and, I have to admit, me near tears.)
To provide a little background: The French classes are separated by proficiency, and my class is the most advanced. But that doesn't mean that it's always easy to discuss big political and social theory in a language that's not our mother tongue. Keba is a pretty good French teacher, but tensions of the passive-agressive variety have often flared over teaching methods or disagreements or misunderstandings. He can be a little condescending, to be more clear. Understandably so, since he's the teacher.
ANYWAY. I explained that I didn't think that the joke or Keba himself was sexist, but that the idea behind the joke is that the man is made happy, and the wife is made happy by making her husband happy. That happiness, once again, for a woman, rests on pleasing her husband by giving him children. (To say nothing of having so little faith in your spouse that you need physical proof of their fidelity.) After much discussing and beating about the bush, and throwing about of the terms 'sexism' and 'feminism', Keba kindly explained to us that sexism and feminist were western notions that had no relevance here in Africa. That if you told a traditional Senegalese family about inequality and sexism they would throw you out of their house. Later he changed that to 'not know what you were talking about'. When we brought up women's movements in Africa, he pointed out that the women heading these movements were the educated, intellectual women. That is, who had been subjected to Western influence. That a traditionally family, and in traditional Africa these ideas didn't exist.

"Traditional" here is doublespeak. It means rural. It means poor. It means uneducated. It means happy and hard-working, but struggling nevertheless. Where Keba sees 'untainted by Western values', the rest of us see socio-economic difference. Which, YES, does come with increased exposure to America and Europe and 'western' values. What we could not seem to impress upon Keba was that EQUALITY and INEQUALITY were not "western" values. It's true that the United States is more advanced in terms of women's rights than Africa. That doesn't mean that the United States invented equality, though. The fact that the "west" has given African women words with which to describe a concept and practice that has existed since the beginning of time is not a bad thing but instead a step in the right direction. I think it's time for the people of Africa to take responsibility. When we pointed out that 'western' countries had to struggle to understand and accept the inequality that existed within their borders, Keba tried to use colonialism as an excuse for why Africa was 'different'. Colonialism and it's effect on Africa was horrific and debilitating. But it is not an excuse. There is no excuse for abandoning the struggle towards human rights. Senegal contains within it the vestiges of colonialism, slavery, inter-ethnic tensions, traditional Islam, and the fundamental inequalities of social structure that have existed since, as Keba put it, Adam et Eve. That's fine. We can agree that that makes the fight that much harder. But it is no reason not to acknowledge the fight at all.

I am SO TIRED of being culturally sensitive. I am SO TIRED of women's rights and human rights movements here having work within the traditional social structure. You know what? FUCK the traditional social structure. Traditional social structure SUCKS. Just because people in this country try to right the wrongs they see in their own "traditional" lives doesn't mean that they are submitting to outside influences. The woman sifting cornmeal in the rural village with the baby on her back knows that she is working really hard. She knows that her brother got to go to school and she doesn't. She knows that Islamic tradition says that she can't pray out loud, even though her husband can, for fear that her voice might seduce him into impure thoughts. She knows that, although her husband works hard in his eggplant fields a lot of the time, she works hard every minute of every day just to feed the kids and when the white study abroad students come to stay with him he has miraculous amounts of free time to talk to them and show them around and drink endless cups of tea with them. She can't talk to the students, though. Because she doesn't speak French, because she didn't go to school. Because she never stops working, even as her brothers and young sons and uncles and fathers sit around her watching her work, doing nothing. She doesn't have time to talk to me because she is 20 years old and has three children, the oldest of whom is 5.

But here's what I think. I think that if she did have the time, energy or language to talk to me, and we talked about western values like 'feminism' and 'sexism' and 'inequality' and 'human rights' and 'family planning' and 'solar-power' and 'historical subjugation of women' I think she would have a lot more to say about it than Keba imagines.

Sorry for the cursing. And sorry to be posting this when I have so much other work today. And sorry that just for right now, I love Africa a little less than I normally do. That will pass. But I think it's sort of fitting that today is election day, and the culmination of an election season fraught with issues of race and gender. Today, no matter your political beliefs, we have a historic election day, with the significant possibility of the USA electing an African-American president, or a female vice-president. Those, competence aside, are huge things. I can only wish milestones in the fight against sexism just as big and encouraging and historical for Africa one day.

Robin

Happy Birthday to me!

2008-10-30T09:10:00.000-07:00

Out the window: the huts of Kedougou. Maybe it's billed as a big city, but it's definitely the dirt roads and huts and naked babies kind of city.
Inside: me on the internet. facebook, blogger, nytimes.com, e-mail, whatever my greedy modern heart desires
mood: surreal and also incredibly content

I woke up this morning in the full sized bed that I have been sharing for the past three nights with two other students. Evie and Chesa and I took one look at the bed, and at eachother, and burst out laughing. Once we'd calmed down, we decided to sleep sideways on the bed with our feet hanging off so that we could fit all three of us. We used my mosquito net, but our feet stuck out the end so I don't know how much good it did. So I woke up this morning achy and scrunched up. But happy.
I opened my present from my mom that I had brought all the way from Dakar to Kedougou to my rural village, just to have a present to open. It's a really pretty necklace that somehow matches perfectly with the only pair of earrings I'd brought with me.
The second thing I did this morning, not to get to graphic here, was to pee outside. Then I had breakfast. We were served many varieties of cornmeal mush in the village, but breakfast was the one we have affectionately named Witch's Brew. I'll post pictures. You'll understand. Sort of a cardboard-flavored ground chalk substance. I managed a whole bite and a half.
We were supposed to leave our village stay at 9am ish, but we had gotten up early. Maleke, who I think was supposed to be one of our host fathers, had been our most valuable friend during this short trip, and he had offered to take us to see his fields. We were supposed to go the night before, but forgot and had gone on a walk to show Chesa the soccer "field" and gorgeous views up on the hill surrounding the village. So instead he took us this morning. It was a little bit of a walk- not far, just hot, though. His fields are all planted by hand. He grows eggplant. Others grow eggplant, corn, and peanuts. The views of the Gambian River by his fields were breathtaking. Its hard to explain, especially on this keyboard with the keys so stiff with dust, but I felt so happy and lucky to be where I was this morning. So many people never get a chance to do what I have just spent the past few days and months doing, and to have such an amazing landscape be a part of my birthday was humbling and just plain nice.
Of course to be completely honest I just as much enjoyed the other part of my birthday so far, which came after we crossed back into kedougou. (crossed with the pirogue/wooden canoe with so many holes in it that it needs to be bailed out as they are paddling us across). I don't know that I've EVER had as great a birthday meal as the baguettes and jam and coffee that they gave us back at the hotel when we asked for some breakfast. I don't think I've ever been so consistantly hungry with no way of getting food before in my life, and I just couldn't stop grinning as we SHOVELED the baguettes into our mouths and laughed about the twenty different kinds of corn mush we've sampled over the past few days.
Then other students started trickling back to the hotel from THEIR ethnic minority village stays and then I took an AMAZING shower in my AIR CONDITIONED hut/room and then ate a GREAT lunch with RICE and BEEF and mafe-like sauce and a COKE and then went and lay down on my bed where my head and feet all fit and opened a card and a present from Alex, my friend from home, and a bottle of maple syrup from my mom and then rested and then set out for the internet cafe. And here I am checking my facebook and reading all of my friends and relatives birthday messages to me and feeling loved and in a few minutes I will go and buy TONS of the indigo fabric that is imported from Guinea and is gorgeous and cheap here.

This is why it is only 4:30 and I am already having THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

Love,
Robin Claire Mariama Diop McGrath

p.s. sorry for the lack of posts lately, and how confusing this one must be. more when i get back to dakar on sunday!

"If I was Bob Marley/ I'd say, could you be loved"

2008-10-08T09:04:00.001-07:00

Well, dance yesterday was just as sweaty as I thought it would but, but infinitely more fun than I had anticipated. I forgot about those exercise-induced endorphins! It was pretty awesome. The rhythms are somewhat different than what we're used to so it was sort of hard. The whole afternoon of trying to keep your arms and legs doing very different things felt like an epic struggle of trying to pat your head and rub your belly, you know? Very worthwhile however.
Classes will re-commence next week, but tomorrow morning we're off on our first rural 'Village Stay'. We aren't going very far, just an hour or two from Dakar, but I think it will be very different from what we're used to. I'm a little worried just about the physical discomforts, but really excited about meeting my mini-homestay family. It sounds sort of silly, but it's going to be a really authentic experience (just in case we felt coddled here in Dakar, HA!).
Today I voted! Well, okay, I filled out the ballot, I'm going to bring it to the embassy in a bit. (You can just mail it, but it's free if you mail it from the embassy, and I want to check out the embassy anyway.) I bet you two dead cockroaches you can't guess who I voted for!

Last night I had a really long and intense discussion with my homestay brother, Sydee, about religion. I'm really pressed for time and don't know if I can do it justice, but it was pretty honest. I'm always on my guard about offending people here, and when talking about religion I'm always very careful to talk about 'religion' in general, and not just Islam. But last night it wasn't too hard to do, because we were discussing issues that are at the core of every major religious debate for religions with sacred texts. Such as, fundamental gender differences, strict adherence to the text, interpretation and modernization of a religion over time, and whether or not it's okay to ask too many questions. (Me = yes, Him = sort of).

I find that in discussing in the abstract what I think God and religion is, Sydee very much agrees with me. But when I start to get more specific about what God is NOT (i.e. rules and laws and sexism, etc), we find ourselves disagreeing. Still, he is the person I feel most comfortable talking to, because although he is very religions and very strict in his faith, he is intelligent and has enough of an open mind that I can discuss issues with him without fear of offending. (That's not to say that I have brought up abortion or gay rights, but we've skirted some pretty heavy topics).

Hopefully more on this later, these conversations are where I feel I'm making the most interesting discoveries about this country, and interestingly, myself.

Sweatily,
Robin

Monday

2008-10-06T11:24:00.001-07:00

I just got back from our first djembe session! Djembe is a kind of Senegalese drum. I love it, I wish I got to just have drum lessons the whole week instead of sharing the time with dance as well. The people who had dance today loved it but looked like they'd stepped out of the shower. (As Zoe has already noted on HER blog.) I do like to dance but I'm pretty lousy at it, and I'd so much rather be learning djembe. We learned three main rhythms today, sort of. My hands hurt a little bit afterwards, but not much.

Last night I called my parents (well, I actually had THEM call ME, which was kind of them) because it was 1AM and the power was out so it was too hot to sleep. I wasn't unhappy, though, just hot and bored. Of course as soon as they called me back the power went back on, so I was ridiculously happy. How do you describe the heat and cockroach climbing outside your mosquito net to your parents and NOT make them freak out? It's hard to explain how I'm so happy here, but I am. And I killed the cockroach after I got off the phone with them so score one point for me.

I'm trying to get used to writing short updates, instead of waiting a week just to write the perfect long explanation of one incredible day. So that's all for now, I have to go home and eat dinner! I hope it's not ceebu jen, as I now officially have what we students here call 'the ceebu jen blues'.

xoxo,
Robin

p.s. Dear Mom,
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT! make me any dishes with fish in them for at least one month after I come home. Kay, thanks.
:D

Korite

2008-10-04T13:25:00.001-07:00

So, Korite was three days ago. It's the very big holiday that celebrates the end of Ramadan. It's been basically a huge subject of conversation for the past month that we've been in Senegal. After Korite, all of Dakar will be a big party. Everyone gets new clothes for Korite. Let's get our new clothes weeks in advance because the tailors will be so busy as Korite approaches. I wonder what we'll eat for Korite? We're all so excited for Korite, because fasting sucks. People spend more money than you can imagine on new stuff for Korite.
Well, needless to say, it didn't really live up to the hype. For me, anyway, it was a pretty average day. I didn't go to school, so in the morning I did what everyone else in Senegal has been doing for the past month, which is sleep to try and deal with the heat. For Korite my family got up at 8am to go to the mosque for an hour, but I wasn’t allowed to go, so there was no point to me waking up. I did get up later in the morning and sort of wandered around bored until they started making lunch. I offered to help and they quickly put me to work washing dishes. (Three buckets, one with soap, one to rinse, one to put the clean dishes in afterwards. This all takes place in the courtyard though, so it never really feels clean with the bugs crawling everywhere.) Our maid, meanwhile, was busy pulling apart most of a sheep into eatable bits and dropping them into another bucket of water to soap. It’s obviously very different from the pre-packaged stuff I’m used to, and what with the intestines lying around and the water it was soaking in not looking that clean I was pretty grossed out in a typical American way. I kept going to my room to drink water and cool down and try not to get too grossed out and grouchy about having to do housework on a day I thought was going to be a holiday.

(Tangent about our ‘maid’: It feels very weird to call Coumba that because she is fifteen years old and is very much a part of the family. She lives with us, but does most of the work and they call her to open the door or get them something even if she is watching tv or sleeping. They also make fun of her a lot, in a way that is sort of good-natured but hard to tell because it’s almost always in Wolof. She’s also sort of short and overweight and always dressed in sloppy clothes that she can get dirty, whereas the rest of the female members are slender and tall and dress impeccably. I was imagining her getting all dressed up for Korite in a sort of chick-flick outcast-girl-turns-beauty-queen fashion. Lo and behold, when I came back from Saint Louis, she had hair braided in this new way that made her look like a new person. And when she changed into her nice Korite clothes, she looked like a rock star, and one the brother’s cute friends started teasing her about how pretty she looked. If life were a movie, a Mandy Moore song would have started playing as the credits rolled over a montage of her going shopping with the cool crowd.)

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It wasn’t just the maid making the meal this time, my sister Aminata (or Ami-Colle) and I were helping. She was using a sort of large-scale mortar and pestle thing, almost like a butter churner, to mash up some onions, garlic and pepper. I helped pound that for awhile, then started separating garlic for her. I cut my finger. I don’t know, it was sort of fun, and it was nice to be helping and to be seeing how the food was made instead of just eating it, but it wasn’t exactly the holiday I had pictured. People wandered in and out. The men and boys watched tv or slept or lay around talking. The women stressed and cooked and cleaned. Ledaru, the little cousin, threw tantrum after tantrum, in the way that little kids are wont to do on holidays where they get overexcited. I took a nap. When I woke up, we ate lunch. (What we’d been making.) It was good, and nice to not have fish for once, but considering that was the big event of the day, it was uneventful. Maybe it was really nice for them to be eating during the day, now that Ramadan was over, but it seemed pretty low-key to me.
Finally, later in the afternoon I got to put on my pretty new Senegalese ‘boubou’, or traditionally dress. I like it a lot. It’s pretty lightweight, so it’s not too bad in the heat, although the sleeves are sort of long. I think I’ll wear it at Christmas, because I can’t think of any other time when I’ll be able to!

The idea behind Korite is forgiveness. You are supposed to go around and visit your neighbors and relatives. The greeting is like this:

Forgive me.
Forgive me as well.
May God forgive us both.

I can’t remember how to spell that in Wolof, but at least you understand the main meeting. You go around all day saying this to everyone, and then you’re all good for any past slights. Well, basically. I did go around and visit the neighbors some and have some more relatives quiz me on my Wolof. (I’ll save for another time my rant on how many things here are normal that would be considered SO incredibly rude in the U.S.)
Anyway, I’ve been trying to upload pictures from my trip to Goree Island and my trip to Saint Louis, AND from Korite, and facebook is being quite feisty and refusing to cooperate with me. But hopefully I’ll be able to soon!

Have I mentioned how ridiculously happy I am to be here? Come visit me in Senegal!

It's pronounced San Loo-eey

2008-09-27T18:11:00.000-07:00

I started writing this the day it happened, but didn’t finish it until today (of course). But here’s one of the days I spent in Saint-Louis:

Today has been one of the most amazing days of my entire life. I don't even know how to explain except to start at the beginning.

I woke up this morning after our second night here in Saint-Louis. Saint-Louis is about four hours north of Dakar, and it was the capital of Senegal before the capital was moved to Dakar. It was also the capital of francophone colonial west africa, so it has a rich cultural significance and historical pride. It's a UNESCO historical site, or however you call it. It's much smaller than Dakar, and is much less overwhelming and frustrating. The weather is also better, because Saint-Louis is an island. There are bridges on either side, one connecting to a smaller island/peninsula/thing (okay, so i'm a little unclear on the geography...) and another bridge on the other side that connects to the mainland, where the city continues somewhat.
Our hotel is on the main island, which is quite small and easily walkable. The people in the streets are curious and friendly, and although the kids follow us and call us 'toubabs' (white people) and the street vendors pssst at us (the way to get someone's attention here) and tell us to buy things, it's simply not as intense as Dakar is, and has a much more laid-back vibe.

So back to this morning. It's been amazing sleeping in air conditioning and beds with no mosquito nets and such, but I did go bed lat last night, so I was pretty tired when I woke up for breakfast. Some of the other students have been complaining that there is no substance to the breakfast and that they're sick of eating only bread for breakfast. But anyone who knows me will understand that I am in HEAVEN eating croissant and mini pain au chocolates and baguette with butter or jam. That and a small cup of coffee, lots of milk and sugar, and I was actually prepared to face the day.

Here in Saint-Louis we are working on projects; presentations on different historical sites. I picked L'Eglise du Sud, the catholic church here, which happens to be the oldest catholic church in West Africa. I'm doing my project alone, although some people are doing them in groups. Our afternoon was free to work on the presentations, but we did have a lecture on the litterature of Saint-Louis in the morning. Normally it wouldn't have been part of the best day ever, but we had a HORRIBLE lecture the day before about the history of the city. It was very boring and VERY repetitive and was three hours long when it was supposed to be an hour and a half, so today's lecture was refreshingly interesting and to the point.

After class, I set off to try and find the curate/priest of the church. I had tried to locate him yesterday, but he wasn't in the office. Luckily today he not only was in his office but welcomed with with typical Senegalese teranga (hospitality) and let me ask him questions about the church and the role it plays in the community. It was nice talking to him, and I found myself extremely happy to be in the company of someone who was the same faith as me. That's not something I'd thought would be a problem, but after a month of people asking me over and over every day why I'm not fasting, it was sincerely nice to be able to talk with someone about the social pressures that the minority of Christians here (5% ish) have to deal with in a Muslim country. At one point he opened a cabinet and brought me an old baptism and marriage registry. It was from the mid-1800s, I don't know if I've ever held something so old and interesting and been able to leaf through it like it was just any random book. It was pretty amazing to look at the elegant tiny handwriting documenting every single baptism in the Church with a paragraph each and the signatures of the parents and witnesses afterwards.

Of course he kindly opened up the church for me after the interview, and showed me around and answered my questions about the paintings, old (broken) organ, beautiful original stained glass windows, and the renovation that is so obviously necessary for the church to stay intact. (The government promised money for a renovation years ago, and hired people to come and look at the church and see how much it would cost, but so far, of course, they haven't seen a cent.) I had forgotten how much I love old churches, and how that was one of my favorite things to do while traveling. I haven't had a chance to visit a mosque yet, so I have nothing to compare it to, but the church was simple and open and felt heavy with history.

We were all due back at the hotel by 2:30, to take a little field trip in the bus. I finished up at the church when my camera's battery ran out, and then headed back to the hotel to re-group a little, grab some lunch, and just made it back in time to change into my bathing suit and tie-dye dress. Then we all headed out for La Langue de Barbarie. (Mom and Dad and Ellen, you may remember that name from the Lonely Planet guidebook for Senegal that was laying around our house before I left. It's a national park specifically known for being a bird sanctuary, although I don't think this is the prime season for it.)

We took the bus there, which was exciting as usual. (Without scaring my mom, let me just say that driving in Senegal is an... experience.) We drove for awhile, then we got out and took a pirogue (wooden boat, sort of like a large canoe, I'll put pictures up of them). La Langue de Barbarie is where the Senegal River meets the Ocean, so we took the pirogue down the river for awhile. It was gorgeous and fun, and of course the breeze was wonderful. Eventually we got out and crossed the 'langue' to get to the other side, where we swam in the ocean on one of the most beautiful stretches of beach I've ever seen. Completely deserted except for us.

Eventually we went back to the other side, got back in the pirogue, rode back to the bus and drove back to Saint Louis to the hotel. And it was during this return, during the pirogue ride back, to be specific, that we saw a very faint and very small rainbow, over the river. (Those of you who know me very well will understand why this was one of the highlights of my trip so far.) I tried to take pictures, but it’s hard when the rainbow’s so faint, you know? Anyway, I was very happy.

Going back to the hotel was one of the nicest parts of being in Saint Louis. Opening the door to a blast of (comparatively) icy air and being able to take a long cold shower and cool down before going out again is a luxury I’ll never underestimate again. For dinner we walked the entire length of the island looking for a restaurant that the SIT people had pointed out to us. We went all the say there just to discover that it was closed, but luckily for us we discovered another place to eat very close by. It was clearly the tourist restaurant of choice, since it was full of toubabs (French, American, English, etc). I had pasta, linguine carbonara and it was amazing! I miss pasta a LOT. Saint Louis is much cooler than Dakar, with the breezes coming from the ocean, and by nightfall it’s actually pleasant to walk around outside. We walked back towards the hotel, and met up with some other students downtown. They had met some Senegalese guys and said they were going to the beach to go play djembe (kind of drum). I decided to tag along with them, even though, I have to admit, the whole thing sounded pretty sketchy. We were a large group, so it was safe enough, but I was beginning to suspect that these guys were leading us on a wild goose chase as we walked around the city and crossed the bridge onto the smaller island next door. It was dark and people were shouting at us from all sides and little kids were grabbing us and asking for money, and all in all I was beginning to suspect that the night was not going to end up being any fun.

Just when I thought it was maybe time to turn around and disentangle ourselves from our ‘guides’, we came to the beach. We passed some kids playing late night soccer, our friends put their djembes down in the sand and began to play, and all of a sudden the night when from sketchy to sublime. I think we stayed on the beach for two hours or so, but I have no idea really. We danced, we sang, lots of kids and young women about our age heard the music and came and joined us. They all stayed together and occasionally one of them would start dancing and we’d all cheer her on, or an American girl and a Senegalese girl would dance together for awhile. I mean, I’m making this sound like a Lifetime movie of cross-cultural understanding, but that’s really what it was like. I went down the water and put my feet in. I stared at the stars. I sang Bob Marley songs. I got to try out the djembe, and finally figured out how to make some of the beats they’d been doing for us. I probably should stop using the word amazing so much, but that’s exactly what it was.

When we finally decided to call it a night, our Senegalese friends kindly walked us all the way back to the hotel. I got to talk some American and Senegalese politics, which is always my favorite way to end a night, and then I got to go back and go to sleep in an air-conditioned room. Sure, the whole thing sounds a little cliché, I guess, but it was such a perfect example of everything I love about traveling and being here in Sénégal. Oh, and I forgot to mention that we all went skinny dipping, too. :p

A bientot!

2008-09-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

It's almost the end of the rainy season, so now would probably be a good opportunity to talk about the weather here. As I may have already mentioned, it's quite warm here. Hot, even. Horrible, dripping with sweat even right after you step out of the shower heat. The rainy season simply means that the heat comes with an enveloping humidity that makes it feel like you're wearing a fur coat. I've always hated the cold more than I've hated the heat, and after complaining for the past 20 years about my house being too cold, or my mom making me take off my sweater in the summer, I'm trying not to complain too much about the heat here. Can't be too much of a hypocrite.

One of the first nights we were here, during Orientation Week, we were at this restaurant down the street from our hotel for dinner. (We ate dinner there basically every night, it was paid for by the program. Sometimes it was great, sometimes it was so-so, but the vegetarians had a very hard time. It's basically impossible to be a vegetarian in Senegal if you don't at least eat fish.) Anyway, one night while we were eating our ceebu jen or some such, there was a sudden rainstorm. As if there's any other kind here! We haven't really had rain now for the past week, but when we first got here it was fairly predictable. It would be quite sunny all day and then pour now and then at night. Just a sudden downpour, completely drenching. I've never seen rain so intense last for so long! I tried to take some pictures at the restaurant while we were waiting for our food, in the hope of conveying the ridiculous amount of water that was pouring down into the restaurant. (We were basically covered by the mats overhead, but it came down the walls and leaked through in some places.)

There were ten days in a row that it rained at some point during the day or night, and apparently that hasn't happened in Dakar for a long time now. There was serious flooding in 'les banlieues' (suburbs, sort of) of Dakar, it's been all over the news here. And there was lots of sort of minor flooding in Dakar. Just lots of huge puddles filling in the already huge potholes. The streets aren't exactly up to New Jersey standards. We saw lots of drivers stuck in some serious water while driving around one day.

So, to apologize again for not updating more, I have to say that it's the fault of the weather! And hence why I've devoted an entire post to it. La chaleur me rend parraseuse. (The heat makes me lazy.) It's hard to do anything productive, when it involves doing anything other than sitting in front of a fan trying to not think about how much you're sweating. But it seems like I'm very behind, because there is so much here that I want to write about!

Let's consider this my test post, to see if it's possible to post movies that I take with my camera. The one I'm trying to post is of that same night in the restaurant, with the rain pouring down and all of us sitting around the table. It's not very long and it is taking FOREVER to load. But if it works than I can share with you all the videos of the religious meetings they have at my house and of the soccer game I went to last night! So let's hope it works. I'm inspired by my sister's recent video adventures. Ellen's been sending me videos using her new laptop, and it's been really nice to hear from her and my parents. Anyway, it appears to have worked but the video is very dark. :( Oh, well, there will be better ones later!!

Much love from sunny, sunny, sunny Senegal,
Robin

Yaasa Poulet

2008-09-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

Tried to update here with this entry last night, but the power went out at the school, which means that the wi-fi goes out as well. So here it is now!

One of the things I was most worried about in coming to Senegal was honestly the food situation. Dakar is a located on a peninsula, and Senegal has a long coast to begin with, so I knew that fish would be a large part of the diet. The national dish, in fact, is called Ceebu jen, and is basically fish and rice. Okay, it's pronounced Cheh-boo-jen, I just copied the spelling from wikipedia. :p
But the fish here is very good, and tastes a lot like chicken to tell the truth. At my house we've had a variety of foods. Maafe is made with a peanut sauce and is a little more spicy, but really excellent. And my favorite dish is Yaasa Poulet. (Another variation of which is Yaasa Poisson.) The wikipedia definition of Yaasa Poulet is "chicken or fish simmered in onion with a garlic, mustard, and lemon sauce". But since I haven't (yet) learned how to make them for now all I know is that it's really excellent.

Eating a la Senegalaise involves eating with your hands. Since almost every dish is either chicken/fish/beef and rice the best way to do this is to roll a handfull of the dish into little balls and then try and get it from the communal dish into your mouth without spilling too much on the mat that's been laid down for that purpose. On the left you can see us trying to do just that! My host family doesn't normally eat like this, we have spoons. But we do eat from a communal bowl. If you imagine the bowl like a pizza pie, then every person normally eats from the slice in front of them. If there are big pieces of meat than the Mom or the head of the family will distribute it evenly into everyone's portion of the bowl.

On the right are Evie and Scram, two students from the program during orientation week, when we learned to eat with our hands. But like I said I haven't done it much since then. Last night there was a lot of people over at my house for dinner, so I think there wasn't enough silverware. My host brother and a few others did just naturally end up using their hands.

Anyway, more tomorrow on my host family. And a very happy birthday to my lovely sixteen year old sister!

Diop, Mariama Diop.

2008-09-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

I have many excuses for not writing until now. Orientation week was hectic, for one. I got sick the last day we stayed in the hotel, and my first night at my homestay was probably one of the worst nights I've had in my entire life. (More later on how I'm feeling MUCH BETTER now!) Also, the heat, when it's not making me want to go crazy and jump into the ocean to cool off, makes everyone sort of lazy. I'm much more inclined to spend the two hours we have for lunch break sleeping on the mats here at school than blogging, even though I have so much to recount! But today I'm fasting (more on that later, too!) so I'll try and spend the time I would normally go out for lunch writing instead.

Let's start with the weather. It's September, which is either the worst or the best month, depending on how you look at it. Our program directors have mostly assured us that if we can make it through September the weather will become much more tolerable. For now it is hot and humid. It's still the rainy season, and this year has been especially bad. Apparently it hasn't rained 10 days in a row like it has in decades, and the suburbs of Dakar are badly flooded. Some flooding is normal, though, because of the uneveness of the roads and the HUGE potholes everywhere. Every taxi ride is a new adventure and it seems completely natural that all the taxis and buses to have 'Alhamdoulilah' or 'Thank God' written on them. As in, Thank God this bus hasn't fallen apart yet andThank God my taxi driver didn't get stuck in a three foot pothole and Thank God I got to school in one piece!

This is the sidewalk outside the hotel where we stayed for orientation. You can see to the side one of the buses, overflowing with people. On the left is another picture of one, the picture taken from the back of a taxi. The back doors stay open on the buses, normally, for air and so that people can hang onto the back for extra places. It's pretty insane to see. You can sort of make it out on the picture on the left, sorry for the bad picture! The taxis are much more civilized in terms of seating, but are also falling apart. They don't go fast like the taxis of NYC, but one still feels as though they are about to crash. Narrow roads that would be one way in the States are both ways, and with people walking in the streets and stray dogs everywhere. Your taxi will head straight for the oncoming car, and veer into it's path to get around a particularly bad pothole, only to swerve back at the last minute. It's terrifyingly fun.

Taxis are also an example of the culture of bargaining here. Today in Wolof class we learned how to bargain in Wolof, but I've already become an expert with the French that I have. To get to school every day I flag a taxi at the corner and say, Salaamaleikum to greet the driver. I ask how much it is to go to the Comissariat du Police at Point E. Taxi drivers are mostly illiterate and no one knows the street names anyway, so it's important to know landmarks to get to where you want to go. The taxi driver will tell me to pay 1200 cfa, and I respond that I'll pay 800. He says that 800 is not a good price and that 1000 is not a good price. I tell him that 800 is the good price and that I can wait for another taxi. He tells me to get in, but first I check that he has change for my 1000 bill, because no one has any change in this country. By the way, the 800 I pay to get to school is about $2, since the exchange rate is about 426 cfa to a dollar. Now that I know more Wolof, it will be easier to bargain. I also think I'll start at 700, so that I can concede 100 cfa before settling on 800. I drive a hard bargain!
Okay, well here's a picture of a beautiful mosaic on a bridge that you can't really see, but you can sort of make out the taxi jaune et noir in the picture. Maybe later, when I feel like scaring my parents, I'll post the pictures I took the insides of the taxis. Falling apart doesn't even begin to describe it!

Class is starting early, so I'll post later this week about the food here (so amazingly good) or something, but for now I'm happy and healthy and hot as heck!

Mariama Diop

p.s. Our host families give us Senegalese names. You can call me Yama for short. :D

First day... what day is it again?

2008-09-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

So we landed in Dakar around 8 or 9pm last night. (One problem with everyone using their cell phones for the time these days is that no one has any idea what time it is since we got here and our cell phones don't always automatically adjust. I've already decided I'm going to buy a cheap watch first chance I get!) We were picked up by the director of the SIT program (the program I'm staying with and studying with here). Customs was long so we were happy to see the people picking us up. They brought us to a bus where we pickled in our own sweat waiting for one other person on a different flight, who thankfully got there very soon after us. Souleye, the program director, had to stay at the airport to meet other students, so he apologized for not being able to take us back to the hotel (where we are staying for our week or orientation before the homestay) himself. Bouna, the assistant director or something came with us instead. He talked to us about Dakar and the program and himself during the 15 minute ride to the Auberge Good Rade. He was really funny, telling us that he and Souleye had gone to school together when they were younger. He said that Souleye had taught him to smoke when they were young, but when Souleye quit a few years ago, he hadn't taught Bouna how to quit, so if we saw him smoking it was Souleye's fault. He's very funny, speaks almost as good English as Souleye does (his is impeccable). When he pointed out his Red Sox hat I gave him a fake dirty look so he apologized and told us we could think of the B as standing for Bouna. Today he came in with a Yankees hat and a big grin. He's really amusing and seems to be quite concerned with making us all feel at home.
Really, everyone here has been extremely nice and welcoming. It's exhausting, and we're all sort of out of it, what with the jet lag. Today was spent going over the 'welcome packet' they provided us with. Basically a list of cultural norms, rules, expectations, syllabi for the classes, health tips, etc. It was horribly boring and long, rather like the first day of classes at school, where the teacher gives you a huge syllabus and then reads every word to you. I always wonder why they don't assume that college students can read. Here they are trusting we will read the material on our own but spent a large amount of time explaining how the teaching style in the classrooms will work. We also wrote down all our fears and expectations in small groups and then they went through each one. Sort of fun, but not very comforting, since most of the fears are sort of well-founded. Sickness? Yeah, that's probably going to happen. Mugging? It's very safe, but it's like any other major city, so... it's possible. Making culturally insensitive mistakes? They didn't exactly tell us it was okay but said that it was obvious that we would make mistakes at first and have to learn from them. So basically, duh. But everyone is very nice and speaks a reassuring combination of English and completely understandable French.
Apparently, though, Wolof is the spoken language in our homestays and in the streets, so we will absolutely need to learn it. I think people speak French, but in order to understand most of what is spoken we will need to hurry and learn Wolof. The teachers gave a sort of demonstration of a beginning Wolof class today and I think it will be fine.

Lunch today was down the street at a restaurant. It was rice and fish. I have a feeling I'm going to just have to get used to eating a lot of fish. It wasn't bad, the rice was a little bit spicy which just made it easier to drink lots of water. (Bottled, of course). While we are here at the hotel, SIT is providing us with large quantities of bottled water. We all carry around these huge bottles with us, or our water bottles, filled from the bottled water. Can you tell I'm paranoid about accidentally forgetting and drinking from a sink?
The rooms are really nice and AIR CONDITIONED, which is lovely. My roomate was one of the ones whom Souleye was waiting for at the airport, she didn't arrive until 2am or so, so we ended up not sleeping until very late. Her name is Evie, and SHE IS A GIRL, MOM. (inside joke). She's very fun and has been traveling for the past two months around Europe and the Middle East so we talked for a long time last night until falling asleep. So I'm both tired AND jet-lagged today. (I already took a nap, though, so...)
Anyway, we're going to go explore the neighborhood a little before it gets dark, so I think I'll sign off for now. I guess I don't have much to say about Dakar since we've been exposed to very little of the actual culture and real life here yet. But it's VERY warm and VERY humid. September is apparently the worst month, and it will be perfect after that.

Bisous from Dakar,
Robin

Last hours in New Jersey

2008-08-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

Just finished setting this up. I'll have to change it later, but this is good enough for now. I'm basically done packing, just freaking out about the little things now. We leave for the airport in two hours or so. I'm officially more panicked than I am excited for the time being, but I know that will change. I'll write more when I get there!

~ Robin