The Yearly Trifecta (Senegal Style)

Each year, three big events occur back to back to back in my life. Of course, I’m talking about Christmas, New Year’s, and my beloved birthday. Now normally (i.e. when I’m in America) I celebrate with my family and friends. Usually there’s drinking, general merriment, and present opening. In Senegal, it wasn’t much different, just take away the family aspect and add lots more drinking.

Christmas I spent in Dakar. I ate lots of food (a couple PCVs made an epic breakfast), drank excessively (spiked cider, hot chocolate, and egg nog), and got gifts from my Secret Santa and through the White Elephant gift exchange. All in all, it was really fun but felt NOTHING like Christmas. Because of this, I actually wasn’t too homesick. I got to talk to my family on Xmas Eve, and I spent the day with really good friends. So, if you guys were losing sleep worrying about me, no worries because I’m fine.

The time between Xmas and New Year’s was uneventful. I stayed in Dakar and did what one does in Dakar: hang out, spend lots of money, and drink drink drink. Goodness, my life as a volunteer is so strenuous and difficult (…he says sarcastically). I’m quickly learning that my PC experience in Africa is very different because I have a Dakar. Senegal, like most African countries, is highly undeveloped. UNLIKE most African countries though, Senegal has a Dakar. It’s a large, Western city with lots of tourism from Europe. It’s a major port for the African continent, so there are lots of people coming in and out all the time. Plus, it has a lot of history in terms of the African slave trade. It’s a cool city to visit for any traveler, not just someone coming to visit me.

On the last day of the year, a bunch of us headed up to St. Louis for New Year’s. From Dakar, the trip took about four hours, which isn’t bad at all. I had never been to St. Louis before, and I was only there for the weekend, but I already know I’m going back soon. It’s SUCH a cool city. Walking around felt eerily like New Orleans. Like N.O., St. Louis was an old French colonial town, so there’s lots of cool architecture that’s now worn down, creating a very unique kind of beauty. It was really wonderful, and it’s right on the water, so we went to the beach as well. When (not if) you guys come to visit me, we will definitely head up there.

New Year’s was, as you can imagine, a little ridiculous. St. Louis was crazy because Akon gave a free show at midnight, so EVERYBODY was there. In case you didn’t know, Akon is from Senegal, so everyone here loves him. Every time I tell a new person that I’m American, they immediately ask me if I know Akon (KNOW him, not know OF him). I tell them no, I don’t know Akon, nor do I know Rihanna or Chris Brown.

Anyways, so I never made it to Akon, who was apparently phenomenal. Extenuating circumstances beyond my control kept me from the concert. It involved lots of alcohol and someone (not me) blacking out in the backseat of a taxi. Kids these days…..

So I headed back to Sokone after St. Louis. It had been a while since I’d been at site, so it was a bizarre adjustment back into Senegal after speaking English with other PCVs for over a month. My family was happy to see me, and I didn’t lose that much Wolof. Unfortunately, I did get sick right after I got back, which sucked. I’m better now though, so again, don’t lose any sleep on my behalf.

My birthday was also an event. I headed to Kaolack and spent a few days at the regional house. My fellow PCVs threw me a party (with blacklights), which was really trippy and cool. They made me baked goods, which I greatly appreciated. I just got back yesterday, and as of now I have very little to do. I am currently looking for a space to start a demonstration garden. Thus far, I have had no luck. I am looking forward to starting projects though now that everything has calmed down.

Moving on…sorry the time between posts keeps getting longer and longer. I’ll try to be better!

2011
01/14
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IST and the Holidays

So, when last you heard from me, I was fresh off a whirlwind 2 days at the Urban Ag conference in Thies. Since then, I have completed IST (In-Service Training) in Thies and hung out in Dakar. I was busy busy busy until I wasn’t wasn’t wasn’t.

Let’s start from the very beginning (I hear it’s a very good place to start). IST was two weeks of additional training at the Center in Thies. I was expecting a lot of tech training (i.e. gardening), and in theory, that’s what it was. What it ACTUALLY consisted of was the UAg-ers sitting in a room listening to PowerPoint presentations all day for two weeks. I did learn a lot, but it was WAY too much sitting when we should have been outside digging in the ground. We did do a little of that, and it was super helpful, but I was definitely disappointed because I was expecting more hands-on training. I mean, I do feel prepared to go back to site and start my garden and begin working. I’m looking forward to it, for sure, but I definitely could be MORE prepared.

Things I did during IST:

Doodled so much out of boredom I now have a decent sized portfolio
Went to an artisans expo in Dakar and bought African goodies (for myself and others)
Went to my country director’s house in Dakar for the Five Week Challenge party
Watched ‘The Lion King’ at aforementioned country director’s house
Led the ‘Grease’ sing-a-long at the party as well (my sisters would have been proud)
Ate CHINESE food in Dakar (the owners don’t speak English, Wolof, OR French…only Chinese)
Caught up on ‘Glee’
Went dancing at a club in downtown Thies

I left Thies on Sunday and came to Dakar. There’s a train that runs every morning at 6 AM, and it’s supposed to be a really cool way to go to Dakar. So, a bunch of people from my stage woke up at 5 AM, gathered up our luggage (a month’s worth), and walked to the train station. Let me tell you, the train station is pretty far from the Training Center, and we couldn’t find taxis that early. We finally arrive at the station, and OF COURSE the trains don’t run on Sundays, even though we asked some Senegalese people the day before if it did, and they said yes. So, we ended up taking the bus, which was fine. Personally, I was livid that I woke up so freakin’ early for no reason, but it’s fine now. We made it.

Since then, I’ve been hanging out in Dakar. This city really has everything. I ate delicious pad thai last night, and I have eaten amazing ice cream on several occasions. I went to the only bowling alley in West Africa and took photos in the photobooth there. I have been swimming in the pool here at the American Club, which is an exclusive club for ex-pats. It’s free for PCVs. I have gone to Cassino a couple times, which is a French grocery store that is AIR CONDITIONED. I walked up and down the aisles experiencing reverse culture shock. Cassino even has Ben & Jerry’s, which blew my mind. I know I’ve only been here for four months, but it has been a mega-Senegalese four months of Wolof and ceebu jen only.

Today is Christmas Eve, which is very surreal for me. It doesn’t feel like the holidays at all. It’s difficult to get into the Xmas spirit living in an Islamic country. Dakar is more decorated than the rest of the country, but it’s still bizarre to be away from my family this time of year. The PCVs staying in Dakar all have Secret Santas, and we have a White Elephant gift exchange planned for Xmas day. It should be fun. For New Year’s, I am headed to St. Louis, which is the second largest city in Senegal. It’s up North, also on the Atlantic coast. It’s an old French colonial town, so there’s lots of cool architecture there. It should be fun.

Anyways, readers, I hope all of you have an amazing Christmas and a happy New Year. Relish in the fact that you are with your family in a country that celebrates these holidays. If I don’t update again, I’ll be seeing you in 2011.

2010
12/24
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All Vol

So I just got done with the West African All Volunteer conference in Thies. It was two days of meetings and discussions on best practices. There were lectures from some visiting volunteers from Togo, Guinea-Bissau, The Gambia, Mali, and Cape Verde. I met new volunteers serving in Senegal as well as other volunteers in West Africa.

Sessions I went to:

PCVs Promoting Literacy
Moringa and Its Uses
Conducting a Regional NGO Workshop
Program Design and Grant Writing (it was either this or beekeeping, which I almost went to)
GIS Use to Enhance and Document Peace Corps Work

I learned a lot. It was interesting to see what other volunteers in country are doing. I’m looking forward to doing secondary projects at my site. There are a lot of cool health and environmental education projects. The potential to help and learn is endless, and I’m looking forward to it.

Before All Vol was the annual UAg Summit. My sector, urban agriculture, is the smallest in country with only 19 volunteers. I love that my sector is so small. I had met most of my fellow UAgs before, but a few I didn’t know. The 2-day summit was basically the 9 second-year volunteers talking about what has worked and what hasn’t. Us newbies just sat and listened. It was so interesting, and it made me feel better that pretty much all of the older vols said they were just as inexperienced as I am now. Gives me hope that I’ll have a beautiful demo garden one day.

On the second day we split up into teams and made a permagarden, which is a gardening technique utilized in PC Tanzania. The garden is supposed to naturally collect rainwater so your plants don’t flood. It was fun to learn about it from the other volunteers.

Basically, I’ve just been hanging out in Thies all week. Been busy going to sessions. My IST (in-service training) starts in a few days, which means I will have gardening sessions all day every day for 2 weeks. It should be fun.

2010
12/04
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Jamie’s Night at the Ambassador’s

So I went to Dakar for Thanksgiving. All the regional houses throughout the country had big Thanksgiving meals, and I considered Kaolack because it’s my region and it’s close, but ultimately I decided to head to the big city because I wanted to get to know it. I had been to Dakar for the day twice, so I wanted to stay for a few days while I had a good excuse.

Normally, I would take public transportation to get to Dakar, but luckily, a PC car was driving through Kaolack on Wednesday, so I hitched a ride with them. PC cars are amazing because they’re air-conditioned and there’s leg room. The ride took about 4 hours (it’s not far, but the roads suck here so it takes forever).

I got to Dakar Wednesday evening. I felt a little awkward at first because everyone, minus a few people (including me), was in the Dakar region, so I felt like I was crashing their party. They were super welcoming though and gave me a bowl of chili as I walked in the door.

So Dakar is huge. There’s over a million people, and it’s super Senegalese but also super Western at the same time. Downtown and the beach-areas are all beautiful with art and nice hotels, but then the suburbs are just like any other Senegalese town. It takes about 20 minutes to get anywhere in a taxi, and everything is unbelievably expensive. I was there for three days and spent SO MUCH.

The day of Thanksgiving, we went to the American Club, which is downtown. There’s a pool there and a bar and Wi-Fi. It’s for Americans living in Dakar and their families. It’s free for PCVs, which is amazing because normally it’s crazy expensive. We sat by the pool and read and chatted, then we went back to the regional house to prepare food. The U.S. Ambassador to Senegal hosts Thanksgiving dinner at her house every year, and she invites the PC country director (my boss) and any PCVs in the area to attend if they want. You, of course, have to bring a dish as well. I cooked nothing but went in on a dish with a couple people. I provided financial support and cut up vegetables.

We arrived at 5:45 PM, which was 45 minutes late. The taxi driver got lost, and we ended up on the Corniche, which is a road that, after dark, has been known to have machete-wielding men looking for white tourists. The driver kicked us out in anger, so we walked the Corniche a little looking for a cab, which is not easy.

We finally get there, have several glasses of wine, and eat. It was buffet style because there was like 80 people there, but I hate a ridiculous amount. I think my stomach has shrunk because I eat less here, but I definitely expanded it again at this dinner. It was so bizarre sitting in a nice house with A/C eating American food. It felt so normal, which is a rare feeling for me these days. I dressed up in a shirt and slacks, which was also weird because normally I wear grungy clothes. It was a nice change of pace.

The next day we went back to the American Club and spent the day there hanging out. For dinner we went to this French restaurant, where I ate an AVOCADO SALAD. Salads are nonexistent in this country. It was really expensive but worth it.

Yesterday I loaded into a PC car and headed to Thies for the UAg Summit. It’s a bi-annual meeting for everyone in my sector. It’s been interesting to see what older volunteers are doing at their sites. I’m starting to get a feel for urban agriculture, which is good because I have to do it for the next two years. It’s also fun to see my fellow UAg friends, who I hadn’t seen in 6 weeks. It’s bizarre being back at the training center. PST felt like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been a month and a half.

Thursday is the first day of the all-volunteer conference here in Thies. All 200-something vols in Senegal will be here, which is gonna be overwhelming. After all vol is IST, which is 3 weeks of intense ag-related training. Gonna be fun.

2010
11/28
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Tabaski (aka Ta-BADASS-ki)

Oh, Tabaski. What an interesting holiday. It’s a cross between Thanksgiving, Halloween, and a Quentin Tarantino film. You’ll see why.

Tabaski and Korite are the big holidays in Senegal. Korite marks the end of Ramadan. Tabaski celebrates when Abraham DIDN’T sacrifice his son. For those of you who don’t know the story, God told Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham takes Isaac to the top of this mountain and is about to kill his son, when God comes and stops him. He goes, “Whoa whoa whoa. You were gonna actually kill him? Okay, so you don’t have to do it. Here, kill this ram instead.” Thus, on Tabaski, everyone slaughters a ram and eats it. I’m getting ahead of myself though…the bloodbath will come.

I woke up at 8 AM and had breakfast with my family. Ironically, on Tabaski, I had my worst breakfast since arriving in Sokone. I usually have a bean sandwich or, as of late, a PB&J or PB and banana (that’s right!). On Tabaski, I had a mayonnaise sandwich. They slathered half a baguette with mayonnaise before I could oppose. I nibbled it, and attempted to smear the mayonnaise off to no avail.

I then went to mosque to pray. I know, right? I got decked out in my Senegalese outfit (hat included) and walked with the other men in my family to the mosque. The heads of household went inside, and the others (non-married uncles, children, me, etc.) were stuck outside. I was there about an hour. It was actually really interesting. There was a lot of chanting, and we would stand up, then sit down, then stand up again. I just watched and sat quietly. I did what I usually do when people around me pray: I clasped my hands together in front of me, put my head down, kept my eyes open, and sang a song in my head. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite and do what they were doing because they know I’m not Muslim, so I managed to avoid doing much until the end. They proceeded to kneel down, facing Mecca, and put their foreheads on the ground for five minutes. I couldn’t stand there while they all knelt, so I did the same. I put my forehead to the ground.

WARNING: the following paragraphs are a little graphic, so skip them if you don’t want to read about the painful death of two rams (Allyson).

After we prayed at the mosque, we then went home and killed two animals. My family had bought two rams earlier in the week. The boys in my family washed them, much like the family dog. Except, unlike the family dog, after the rams’ bath, my host dad slit their throats. I missed the sacrifice of the first ram because my family forced me to run instead to get my camera. I came back, and they were draining the blood into a hole they dug in the sand. I took an EPIC photo of the entire family, babies included, smiling in front of the ram, which was dead and bleeding profusely from the neck. It was terrifying because, after the ram died, it still kept moving for a few minutes. Freaked me out.

I then watched my dad kill the second one. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I needed to. I don’t know why, and I could have waited until next year’s Tabaski (yep, I get two Tabaskis in Senegal…I’m here THAT LONG), but I wanted to watch. It was sick, and there were noises I wasn’t expecting, and like the first ram, the second ram moved a lot after death. After I watched the rams get slaughtered, I watched the men in my family skin and cut up the carcasses. This was another don’t-want-to-but-feel-like-I-should kind of thing. Truly disgusting, but I watched with morbid fascination, unblinking, for about an hour. The memories are ingrained in my mind forever.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of me eating my weight in food. We had ram liver (chewy) for brunch, and then lunch, which consisted of meat, meat, potatoes, meat, onions, and meat. After, I was DYING I was so full. My family then dropped this bomb: we had to go to other houses and eat lunch at each of them. I’m pretty sure I said in English, “SERIOUSLY?” Yep, I went to two other houses and was force-fed by a scary Senegalese woman living at each one. I felt like Rory and Lorelei going to four Thanksgivings. Unknowingly, I had been training my entire life for this one day of immense overeating. I’m shocked I didn’t vomit all over the bones lying around that second compound. I felt like I was in a damn lion’s den.

At about 7 PM, two of my sisters (Fatou, 15 and Mamy, 16) told me to put on my Senegalese outfit because we were going on a walk “to the garage”. I begrudgingly said yes but wasn’t looking forward to it because, at night, the area around the garage becomes, for teens, a Senegalese mall-on-a-Friday-night-circa-2001.

Luckily, we never made it to the mall, I mean, garage. We walked across town to Fatou’s friends’ house. Her “friend” ended up being her secret boyfriend. Scandalous, I know. Fatou and her S.O. chatted for about an hour while me and Mamy sit in the corner and thought/chatted awkwardly. We left, and on the walk back, Fatou tells me to lie and say we went to the garage because Baba (my host dad) doesn’t know about her boyfriend. This is all in Wolof, of course. I agree to be involved in the scandal. It’s funny how petty drama must be completely unavoidable in life because I am finding here in sub-Saharan Africa.

Yep, so that was Tabaski. Technically, it was a three-day event. The second and third days were pretty much normal days, except we continued to eat the ram, which sat out unrefrigerated for days. My stomach, luckily, weathered the storm.

I am now at the Kaolack house. I am headed to Dakar soon for Thanksgiving. It’s gonna be good.

2010
11/24
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“The Peanut Butter Incident” and Other Stories

So, as you may or may not know (depending on your level of loyalty to me/my blog), I have been making attempts at normal breakfasts the last week or so. I have been making coffee (of the crappiest quality, but the package says “coffee” nonetheless), and, more recently, I have been making my own sandwiches. I bought strawberry jam in Kaolack, and this is legit jam, too. It’s made in PARIS (ooh la la) and not DAKAR (wah wah), which is where most things in this country are made. I have had jam sandwiches the last couple of days, which, let me tell you, are delicious, especially when fruit is lacking in my diet so tremendously. It wasn’t enough though. I wasn’t truly satisfied with just jam on a baguette.

So my host sister, Sophia, who is amazing, told me you can buy peanut butter in the market on Luoma days. “PEANUT BUTTER?” I retorted. “Oh my goodness there IS a God,” I said (probably in English because, when surprised/excited/freaked out, I forget about that pesky Wolof).

Luoma day is every Wednesday in Sokone. There is, of course, always a market here. My host sisters go every morning and buy veggies, fish, rice, etc. On Wednesdays though, the market is probably five times bigger. Luoma, like the circus/trade shows, has a circuit. Sokone’s Luoma is on Wednesday, while, for example, the neighboring town of Passy has its’ Luoma on Sunday. In Sokone, if you want to buy something more obscure (i.e. peanut butter, tacky African jewelry, a goat), you wait until Wednesday because you WILL find it.

Luckily, my town is located in the heart of the Peanut Basin, which is in southern Senegal, above The Gambia. My host dad (who is tiny and rides a motorcycle and is named Malamine also) grows peanuts, so I eat, at the very least, a handful of peanuts every evening, and that’s just to be polite. Before dinner, my family tries to force me to eat my weight in peanuts. I learned QUICK to take a small handful and nibble. We then eat dinner, and immediately after they bust out the peanuts YET AGAIN and attempt to force-feed me. I either kindly say I am full, or I flee in terror, feigning illness or a desperate need to go shower.

Anyways, so the Peanut Basin. I live here, so peanuts are plentiful. As a result, you can easily (I use this term loosely because NOTHING is easy here) find peanut butter in the area. Thus, Wednesday, I go to Luoma on a hunt for peanut butter. The market has slight organization (the goats are in the back), but I still walk around for about an hour looking. Of course, I am frequently accosted by people trying to sell me wooden statuary, hair extensions for African women, and children’s clothing (I wish I knew how to say “Know your audience!” in Wolof).

I finally find Peanut Butter Row, where there are probably 10 women sitting in a line selling peanut butter. In front of each of them, there is a massive bucket filled with PB, and they scoop some out and put it in a sketchy plastic bag. It cost 300 CFA, which is less than a dollar. I am pleased.

So, the night before my first breakfast of peanut butter and jelly, I can’t sleep. I am too excited (I wish I was lying, but I am not). I finally fall asleep, and I awake early the next morning. I buy my baguette from the boutique around the corner and bring it back to my room. I am making my coffee, and I put the jam on the baguette. I get out the peanut butter, which, like I said, is in a sketchy plastic bag tied at the top similar to how a water balloon is tied. I try to untie it, but I am incapable, so I get my scissors. Here, “the incident” begins.

I cut the top and immediately realize my fatal mistake. Peanut butter is quite liquidous here in Senegal, and the hole at the top of the bag is larger than expected. I am holding the bag, and I can only compare what happened to something along the lines of what it would be like to hold Mount Vesuvius in your hands as it’s erupting.

You guessed it, peanut butter starts spewing out of the top like there’s no tomorrow. I wish I could have seen my face, because it must have been priceless. I also wish I could have witnessed the incident from the perspective of the members of my host family, who surely just heard “SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!” coming from my area of the compound.

So I leap up and grab one of the beautiful glass bowls I bought in Kaolack before installs. I throw the now-half-empty bag of peanut butter in there. I stand up and assess the damage. There is peanut butter EVERYWHERE. All over my hands, all over the straw mat I was sitting on, as well as various other places I found later. (Forgive me if this story has taken a slightly inappropriate-sounding turn.)

I start by washing my hands, which is difficult because peanut butter is a bitch to get off, especially without running water. My hands are clean(ish), and I have worked up an appetite, so I take a break and eat my breakfast. It’s good, but I can almost not enjoy it because, as I eat, I look around at the destruction this peanut butter has caused, and with the knowledge that I alone have to clean it up, it’s a little depressing.

I ended up cleaning it all (as best I could). I expect ants, which doesn’t change much because I expect bugs all the time. Anyways, so I thought the incident was funny, and definitely a learning experience. I am afraid to ever eat peanut butter here again, and I still have a lot left (I messily transferred the remaining peanut butter to a clean sandwich bag I brought from the States). I guess, much like Senegal itself, Senegalese peanut butter is something you learn how to master over time. It can’t be learned overnight.

SILVER LINING: my room now smells like peanuts.

2010
11/11
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Toubacouta

Goodness gracious, this Five Week Challenge sucks. The first three weeks have past, and I was doing fine. I was visiting fields, walking around, setting up my house, hanging out with my family, reading lots and lots of books, etc. Now, I am going a little crazy. I still have two weeks to go, which I know I am capable of, but sometimes I just want to up and go to Kaolack and excessively use the Internet and drink and speak in English. Hopefully I will not do that.

MAJOR UPDATE, PEOPLE: I have electricity now! I no longer read/write in my journal by candlelight in the evenings. AND, I was worried the electricity would make my little house depressing (because, in Mboro, my cell/room was super dingy and depressing at night), but it’s still pleasant at night. I have been watching episodes of 30 Rock before I go to bed, which is bizarre, yet I love it. My family has about 25 people in it, and there is always someone in the compound. Well, of course, when the electrician came to turn on the electricity, everyone disappeared, and I had to explain everything in Wolof. I did fairly well, considering I was discussing electricity and installations and such.

Sunday, another volunteer and I biked down to Toubacouta, which is a town 20K (12.4 miles) southwest of Sokone on the delta. Sokone has some tourists, but Toubacouta is a destination for European travelers (and some American). It’s gorgeous there, let me tell you. There are two super nice hotels, which we walked through to get to a dock on the river (there’s a SED volunteer there who knows some of the employees, so we could go on the hotel’s dock). I felt like I was in Key West or something. There was a gorgeous pool with several Speedo-clad Frenchmen lounging around its’ perimeter. Next to the pool there was a bar, and scattered throughout the pool area were several comfy little nooks, which were filled with other toubabs using the hotel’s free Wi-Fi. There have been only a handful of times in my three months here where I didn’t feel like I was in Africa, and this was one of them.

There are also 11 campements in Toubacouta. A campement is very similar to a hotel, but instead of indoor rooms, there are several bungalows where guests stay, and usually dinners are eaten with the owner’s family. It’s for the traveler who wants a more Senegalese experience, which is ironic considering each bungalow has flush toilets, showers, and A/C.

Toubacouta, being so touristy, also is a hub for local artists. I saw some really cool art there, and there were lots of artisans and such yelling at me to buy things. If anyone comes to visit me (hint hint), we will definitely head down to Toubacouta because it’s gorgeous and a lot of fun.

You’re probably wondering about the 25-mile bike ride. I was wondering about it before we left, too. Since installing, I had ridden my bike twice, and both were short trips I took to explore the area. I was nervous the other volunteer was going to have to drag my lifeless body back to Sokone at the end of the day. It actually was okay. My legs burned on the way down and on the way back up, but it wasn’t bad at all. I was kind of sore when I got back, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

The road from Sokone to Toubacouta is in really good condition, unlike the road from Kaolack (which, by the way, is pronounced cow-lack) to Sokone (so-cone, like snow cone but without the n in “snow”), which is horrible and jarring and frightening. The surrounding wilderness is also SO African and SO beautiful. Of course, I did not bring my camera, but I know I will bike down there again.

Nothing much else has been going on. I have been going through books like there’s no tomorrow. I have also mastered the art of making coffee every morning, which is NOT easy in this country. I have a tiny gas cooker thing, and the Senegalese LOVE their instant coffee. I, unfortunately, don’t have a French press (family, take note….Christmas is around the corner) or a fridge, so I buy crappy Nescafe and crappy powdered milk from the boutique around the corner. The coffee tastes coffee-esque, just enough to make me happy every morning. My host-mom sells bean sandwiches (the breakfast of choice in Senegal: beans, onions, and spices on half a baguette; it’s ridiculously good) outside our compound, so every morning I buy one of those and take it back to room. I have my sandwich and coffee and listen to music. It has become a splendid routine of normalcy in my otherwise abnormal day.

Also, a random thought: there are several creepy crawlies in my room 24/7. It’s good to have a roommate again, I guess, but I prefer Allyson to the variety of spiders, crickets, lizards, and the one toad I am currently bunking with. I have Yotox, which is the insect killer of choice in this country. There are other brands, but everyone calls every kind of bug killer Yotox, much like Kleenex. Luckily, my roomies just kind of chill out on the wall, and I have my mosquito net, which keeps out everything, but it’s funny how much I have changed these three months. I used to freak if there was a bug in my apartment, but now I feel like it’s useless to attempt to fight these critters, so I have given up. I have to pick my battles, and I have chosen the Jamie vs. Senegalese-Children-Calling-Me-Toubab EPIC WAR of 2010-2012.

Two weeks left. I can do this. Luckily, the end of the Five Week Challenge marks the beginning of a hectic, far-from-boring six weeks. I am headed to Kaolack for Thanksgiving (the 25th), where I will stay at the regional house for a couple days. The 27th-29th is the semi-annual UAg conference in Thies for just my sector. The 3rd-4th of December is the all-volunteer conference (also in Thies), and two days after that is IST. After that is Christmas/New Year’s, which I will spend in another part of the country. I don’t know where yet though. I will return to Sokone at the beginning of January and will begin work. Scary thought.

2010
11/09
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The contents of this website and opinions expressed here are mine alone and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps or the U.S. government.
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