A little taste of Sokone

Our professor told us he wanted our trip to Sokone to be a surprise and that it was. We left Dakar at 9 AM CFA (meaning it was closer to 9:30). The drive was a scenic 5 hours on some of the nicest roads in Senegal. Sokone is located on the main route from Dakar to Gambia and President Wade, in his attempt to get on the publics good side before elections, has financed the paving of the majority of the route. Our hotel, or auberge, was a little piece of green paradise. Grace, Lauren, and I had our own thatched roof hut; each meal was eaten outside under a canopy surrounded by flowers and birds and butterflies, and from somewhere in the distance the sound of the tam-tam.

After lunch, and dessert, and juice….we visited a center for the handicapped where people come to learn life skills as well as a few trades by which they can make a living. Right down the road was a women’s organization that produces cereal products such as millet, corn, and dried byssap juice. When we returned to the auberge around 5 o’clock we found a group of men organizing all sorts of drumming equipment and coolers and a peace corps volunteer named Casey. We all piled back into the van-all 17 of us plus drums-and started driving. After about 15 minutes we turned off any sort of road and were on a small path, usually reserved for horse drawn carts, making our way through the bush, more affectionately known as ‘ca all ba.’ It was here that our guide, Baba, hopped out and headed toward a small opening in the tall corn and I decided to ask where we were going. I turned to the man next to me, one of the drummers, and attempted to pose the question in Wolof. It didn’t take long convey my question and Tam kindly corrected my grammar, then proceeded to copy me each time I said it possibly thinking I was working on my pronunciation. It wasn’t until Lauren was laughing hysterically and I finally switched to French to ask ‘seriously, where are we going?’ that he responded. And where were we going? ‘Fii rekk,’ or ‘just there…’ gesturing toward and empty field and some overgrown brush.

Our destination, a small opening in the forest where we found a man named Armando. We had asked during the ride down to Sokone whether or not we would be far enough south to find palm wine, something we had been wanting to try but which is impossible to find in Dakar. Our professor called Baba, owner of the auberge and sort of tour guide, to give him time to search the town. Apparently Baba decided that if we were going to try palm wine we needed to see exactly how it was prepared. Thus we arrived in the middle of this forest of palm trees, with a band of tam-tam players and a cooler full of palm wine, to watch Armando get ‘inspired’ and climb a tree and tap it for juice. We learned how to make a funnel from palm leaves and attempted to climb the tree with a hoola hoop looking tool made out of rope. After a bit more dancing and drinking we headed back to the auberge for the night.

The next day was possibly the busiest day I’ve experienced in Senegal. After breakfast we headed out to explore the mangroves, which are trees that grow in the delta and along the rivers. There are a number of initiatives to protect/replant mangroves because so many have been illegally cut to harvest the clams that grow on their roots. Another women’s organization keeps bees around the edge of a large mangrove forest with two purposes. One, the bees keep people from entering and cutting the roots. Two, the women harvest, treat, and sell the honey they collect from the bees.

After visiting the treatment facilities, we headed out to Tabakouta, a somewhat touristy town just south of Sokone. Here we hopped in a pirogue for about a 40-minute boat ride out to Diorom Boumag islands. Here we swam in the delta, kayaked through the mangroves, explored l’Ile aux coquillage, and saw a magnificent sunset as headed through the land of birds. Overall it was a wonderful day. Pap Diop and Baba were great guides, we met some French vacationers who ate lunch with us and shared in interesting drink that was a mix between wine and liquor.  By the time we made it back to the auberge around 8:30, I would have been happy with dinner, some tea, and bed, but no…we had a fête to attend! All through dinner the drumming outside kept getting louder and louder and we could here people arriving.  After we were done dinner, Baba came out and said as soon as we were ready Awa, the women who organized the big celebration would come with a few friends to accompany us out.  About five minutes later we were sitting in the middle of a large circle of at lease 150 people, facing the tam tam players. The ‘fête’ lasted about an hour and a half, during which we were repeatedly dragged to the center of the circle to dance for what seemed to be about half the town. As if three toubabs dancing by themselves in the middle of a large circle isn’t enough, every Senegalese woman knows how to dance, and well. So our attempts at the ‘youza,’ a modern Senegalese dance, were quite entertaining. As was my quick display of Irish Dance, which Grace made me perform, and which amazed many of the people watching. After we had sufficiently embarrassed ourselves, at some sign invisible to us, the gathering was over and in less than two minutes everyone was gone. It was the quickest I have ever scene a party clear out.   We spent the rest of the night drinking Attaaya with a few of the men who help out at the auberge and being mesmerized by the stars, which were ridiculously bright.

Saturday morning we made a quick visit to the high school to learn about a program called Sisters to School. It’s a program started by retired Peace Corps volunteers who wanted to help at risk women and young girls receive an education. After our visit we headed back to Dakar making a quick stop in Kaolak to drop off Ishmaela, one of the auberge workers, and Jamie, another Peace Corps volunteer.

While our drive to Sokone took just about five hours, the trip home took more like seven. On the upside we stopped at a roadside stand and all bought delicious watermelons as a small gift for our families! The only critique I had of the trip was that it was too short. And possibly the fact that it came at a time when I had three large papers to write…which is what I’m off to do now. Until next time, happy turkey day to all!!!

The River Valley

I took the last post to explain my living situation in Richard Toll but failed to mention anything about my reason for being there. One of our classes is titled the St. Louis River Valley and our trip was meant to give us a better idea of the agricultural conditions of the region. We spent most of our time in Richard Toll, touring different organizations and farms. We saw TONS of rice, a sugar cane plantation, fishery, tomato farm, a pump station, and the Diama Dam which we were able to cross and enter Mauritatia for a few minutes. What I understood of the tours was interesting, however because they were in French and my farming vocab is somewhat limited, I felt as though some of the tours were less effective learning tools than they could have been. I think it would have been more meaningful if our guides talked more about the larger more global issues they faced rather than the technical details of how to make fish food for example. That's not to say I didn't enjoy our visits and the travel alone was interesting enough. Even though Richard Toll has a convenient central location, the majority of our tours were 30 minutes to an hour away. This being the first time we really ventured out of Dakar I was glad to have the chance to see a little of rural Senegal and feel for the first time that I'm in Africa.

We spent two nights, three days of our trip in St. Louis, which felt more like a vacation than anything. We stayed at a ritzy French hotel with air conditioning, a mini-fridge, and our own bathroom (fully stocked with toilet paper, soap, and a real shower!) Attached to the hotel was a French restaurant were we ate two delicious dinners, my favorite dishes being a carrot bisque and a dessert of vanilla ice cream and strawberry sorbet, really just happy to have some fruits and veggies. The staff was also very accommodating. One night we were being served steak and when asked how we would like it cooked Lauren, Grace, and I all responded medium. Apparently medium in Senegal is slightly seared but still bloody and lukewarm on the inside. The cook kindly threw it back on the grill for us. Breakfast was equally impressive. Each person received their own assortment of breads and pastries, a crepe, and bowl of fruit, not to mention the REAL coffee that came with REAL steamed milk!

During out time in St. Louis we visited a park called Le Langue de Barbari which is a strip of land between the river and the ocean which is known for its birds. We were a little early in the season and only saw a few different types but the scenery boat ride were great none the less. We also visited a wildlife preserve were we saw hundred year old tortoises, a few gazelle-like animals (I'm not exactly sure what the name translates to in english) and tons of red monkeys!

Khadit and Fatou, who are from St. Louis, were wonderful guides. Not only did they show us around the city and help us bargain some great prices, they decided we needed to see what a night out was like in St. Louis. Sooo we went to a club with them, some friends, and their brothers. Yes, they go to the club with their brothers.  We had a blast and ended up getting back to our hotel around 6 am. Whoops. Everyone was a little tired the next day but after Khadit and Fatou led a walking tour of the city we hopped back in the van and returned to Richard Toll.

That pretty much takes care of all the highlights and I'm clearly falling behind on posts so I'm going to stop here and start working on my post about TABASKI!

I hope everyone's enjoying the snow and fall weather. It's still a warm and sunny 85° here. 

The Fall Family

The first couple of days in Richard Toll I felt a little like I was living in a zoo. My family consisted of my dad, mom, two sisters, 16 and 14, and one brother, 9.  They were extremely nice and welcoming but watched my every move. My first day there I had zero time alone. If for some reason I was alone in my room, also the living room, it only took my younger sister Adja about 30 seconds to realize it, pop her head in, and ask, ‘Tu fais quoi?’ or ‘what are you doing?’ Every time I wasn’t involved in family activities, whether I was getting ready in the morning, working on homework, writing in my journal, etc., always ‘tu fais quoi?’

Then there was the fact that the family slept on the roof. Generally speaking I was very happy about this. Not only was there a wonderful breeze, I had an amazing view of the stars. The only problem was that there was an elementary school across the street from my house and each morning my family set up a little stand where they would sell breakfast to many of the students. School started at 8:15 meaning everyone had to be up, bread bought, and the spread made before kids starting arriving. In other words I got up before 7 every day, and didn’t have to be ready till 9. My last day there it was still dark out when I woke up. Then there were the students themselves. I’ve gotten used to people looking at me when I’m in public and kids having a funny reaction. Generally huge smiles and wanting to shake our hands, every once in a while it looks a little more like fear. These students however just stared. I would often drink my coffee in the doorway and watch the commotion with my sister and kids would just stand there looking at me, which my sister thought was hilarious by the way.  So my first couple of days felt something like living in a zoo, I went to bed and woke up when the rest of the family did, I ate when they put food in front of me, and I was watched by little kids like some exotic animal.

After a few days however I became more integrated in the family. I helped with dinner a few times, started washing my dishes in the morning and would run errands with my sister. One night they decided to take me to the tailor to help pick out a design for my Adja’s Tabaski outfit. I decided not to go on any more random trips with them after the tailor vehemently refused to believe I didn’t want to marry his friend and my sisters were of no help.  For days afterward they would randomly ask me what was new with the tailor and then burst into laughter. The same was true every time my crazy aunt would come over. Like my host mom she only spoke Wolof so after going through all the greetings and here telling me I was like a daughter to her, the next subject was always my relationship status. No matter how many times she visited, the conversation would always be the same (using my broken Wolof I might add) “Where is your husband?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Why not?! You need a husband. You don’t have a husband?”

“No, not yet. I’m not ready to have a husband. I’m a student. I have to finish school first.”

“No. You must marry and then you can finish school.”

A statement to which I had no answer in Wolof and at which point my sisters were just hysterical, my aunt completely serious. Then there was the fateful morning she came over with her son and told me that she would give him up for me because I was like her daughter and I really needed a husband. I then spent the next hour eating breakfast with him and waiting for my ride.

After my first two days in Richard Toll I came home from a day of visiting sugar cane fields and riceries to learn that my host dad had left for St. Louis because his nephew had passed away. It is bizarre to me the way some people here treat death. I don't know how close anyone else in the family was to the boy who passed away, but besides informing me that my dad was in St. Louis, it was never mentioned again. Even when he returned, a week later, he said nothing about why he had been gone.

While life in Richard Toll lacked a few of the creature comforts I've been accustomed to in Dakar, personal privacy and freedom, somewhat regular internet access, and a working toilet, I am going to miss the Fall family. Having kids around, helping out with meals and family chores, and in general being able to experience a different version of Senegalese lifestyle. 

I've got much more to tell but I thought I'd put some picture up now since they're all ready and the blog posts are coming a little slowly.

Au Revoir Dakar

Tuesday morning Grace and I decided to get one last run in before we left Dakar. Our departure date had been pushed back so that our professor, my uncle, could be in Dakar for the memorial service of his nephew, my host mom’s son, who passed away last year. I knew he was coming over for lunch and that there would be a small service. Because my mama said nothing of it, I assumed it was jut a small family event. That was not the case.  

I returned from my run to find a large stack of chairs in the courtyard and a few family members and friends milling about. I hopped in the shower real quick wanting to be out and dressed before more people arrived. In the next half hour or so the whole neighborhood was congregated in our house. The living room was filled with men and the courtyard with women. The men were praying, led by the chants of another uncle, the women simply praying in silence facing Mecca. It went on this way for about an hour, listening to the chants of the men and occasional comforting of my mama when she would break down in tears.  I can hear the chanting of prayers from my house each evening but it is usually just background noise to my life. Surrounded by silence and with nothing to distract me I really listened to the chanting and it has an extremely calming effect. Even though I was glad to be able to offer my prayers and condolences, to be there for my maman, I couldn’t help feeling I was intruding on what should have been a very private time. She has told a few stories about her son and shared some photos with me, but that doesn't change the fact that I never knew him and have only been with her for a month.

After the service was finished people slowly began to disperse and only a few family members stayed for lunch. Everyone who attended the service or stopped by at any point during the day was given a small gift bag, me included. It contained an assortment of cookies and chocolates, a bag of water, and carton of milk-they don’t refrigerate those here. 

Around 3:30 Grace, Lauren and I hopped in a van with our professor said ‘au revoir’ to our families and to Dakar. We’d only been in Senegal for about a month and all of that time adjusting to the culture of the city and our families. I felt a small sense of sadness to be leaving a city that was just starting to become home, but at the same time anxious to see more of Senegal.

Keur Massar, the monastery with no monks

This Sunday we were planning on taking a trip to Keur Moussa, the monastery were they are known for great goat cheese and gregorian chants. All the guidebooks say to take bus 17 from Dakar to Rufisque, where you have to switch busses. Once on the second bus tell the driver where you're going and he will drop you off at a signpost about 1.5 kilometers away from the monastery. Then to get back, you have to ask around and find a 'taxi clandestine' that will take you to Rufisque were you can catch a bus back to Dakar. When Grace was asking her host brother where one would find 'Bus 17' we were relieved to hear there's a different bus that can take you straight to the monastery. It only cost about a dollar a piece round trip and takes about an hour.  When I told my mom about our plans I was curious as to why she was so surprised that we would be back in time for our tour of the suburbs in the afternoon...

So Sunday morning a little after 8 we headed to the bus stop and make our way to what we thought was Keur Moussa. I know the population is about 95% Mulsim but I still found in odd that nobody we asked seemed to know what we were talking about when we asked about the monastery. Though somebody was kind enough to point out the local Church. After attending Mass-almost 2 hours long with no gregorian chant-it was pretty obvious we weren't in the right place. Happy to have experienced a Senegalese Mass but a little disappointed we didn't find the monastery we boarded our bus and headed back to Dakar.

When I got home my family was curious about our trip and what we were able to do in such a short period of time. One of my uncles, who also happens to be the professor who was taking us on a tour of the suburbs later that day, seemed incredulous that we made it there but couldn't find the monastery.  I told him nobody seemed to know anything about a monastery and the Church we found had no monks. Then he asked how we got there, a taxi? I proudly said nope, we took a bus! He gave me a funny looked, asked my mom something in wolof, then burst out in laughter. After about a minute he explained, 'There's no bus that goes to Keur Moussa, I'm pretty sure you guys were in Keur Massar." So our exciting first trip outside Dakar was actually just a long bus ride to one of Dakar's suburbs, which happened to be included in our tour that afternoon.

What might seem like a wasted morning however, was quite enlightening. I've probably already written more than you want to read at one time and I haven't even mentioned our afternoon tour so I'm just going to give you a short list of the more shocking experiences of our bus ride.

• Detours in Senegal=drive into oncoming traffic
• Busses have no set capacity
• Seeing a LIVE sheep be stuffed in the trunk of a taxi

After our morning of navigating the public transit system it was a relief to have a taxi with air conditioning for our tour of the suburbs. I won't go into too much detail about the different areas we visited, but two in particular are worth noting.  The first is a large green space located east of the city, in which people are banned from building. From a distance it looks like a beautiful park with a small lake, what my prof calls 'The Central Park of Senegal.' Upon closer look, there are piles of trash along the bumpy dirt road that runs through the space and small shacks for the people who farm in the area. Apparently it is only closed to formal construction.

The second thing I wanted to mention is the city's landfill where all of Dakar's trash is dumped. Located just outside one of the suburbs, you can see pillars of smoke from the burning trash for blocks. Lauren and I were trying to take photos from the car so our professor asked to driver to stop. Then he said, well why don't we just go in. Yes, why not drive through all of Dakar's trash.

As we drove through the landfill we started to see little shacks constructed literally in the trash. My professor explained that the people living in the trash work in the landfill. These people sort through the trash pulling out plastic bottles, aluminum cans, fabric, and other scrap metals that they can resell. I guess this is Senegal's form of recycling. Needless to say it was disturbing to see people living among trash not to mention the pollution created by burning their trash.

All in all it was an informative but exhausting day and I was happy to spend the night hanging with my family.

Sorry for the long post, but tomorrow we leave for Saint Louis for two weeks so I probably wont have any updates for a while. 

Overstimulation

I've been having a hard time describing exactly how I'm feeling about my time in Dakar so far and after this weekend I was finally able to put my finger on it. The word is OVERSTIMULATED. Everywhere I look there is something new to see, hear, and smell. Everything I eat has a new taste and sometimes a new texture (stories of the dreaded supakanja to come) And as if eight hours of class aren't enough to get me thinking, I go home and attempt to decipher the melange of Wolof and French being spoken by my family. Even playing a card game as simple as Crazy 8's (known as American 8 or 151 here) with Grace's family takes some thought.

Not that I'm not complaining. I didn't travel 4,500 miles to have the same experiences I do in the States.  This weekend however was a nice repose from the hustle and bustle of the city and gave me some time to process all that has happened in my first month here. Yes, its already been a month!

Outside the cafe at the French Institute, looking like Grace's twin.

The first break for my senses came Friday night when we headed downtown to L'Institute Francaise to watch a documentary on the independence of Senegal. After the film we had dinner at The Institutes cafe, where they serve salad! Fresh vegetables are somewhat of a commodity here. My salad consisted of fresh greens, tomato, cantaloupe, grapefruit, orange, apple, and sauteed mushrooms and beef with a citrus vinaigrette. Lauren, on the other hand, was slightly adventurous and decided to order a salad with gésiers, not knowing what they were at the time. Turns out they're gizzards, which are a bit chewy but quite tasty.

Picnicking on Ile de Madeleine

Saturday we decided to get up early, grab a few snacks at the Casino (local supermarket) and spend the day on L'Ile de Madeleine. Naturally, having adjusted to Senegalese time, it was close to 2 by the time we made it to the fish market, where you can catch a ride to the island. After bargaining a bit with 'the captain' we settled on a price of 5,000 CFA ($10).  The boat ride to the island took about 15 minutes in a pirogue, which is a fishing boat similar to a rowboat/canoe with a small motor. The island itself is made out of volcanic rock, covered in tall grasses and dwarf baobabs.  As we approached the island, our captain navigated his way to a small alcove were we found beautiful shell beaches, a clear swimming hole, and the only five other people on the island.  We ate our snacks on a small grassy plateau at the top of the island with a great view of the city and spent the day exploring the island and swimming. At one point our captain, who remained on the island with us, showed an alcove that was beautiful but not too different from others we had seen, apart from the fact that it was a bit of a hike away. Only after we had returned did he tell us he took us there because it is know as the cove of serpants...

Our captain with the 'pirogue' we took to the island

I could have spent a few more hours on the island but our captain said it was time to head back around 6. After the ride back I can see why. The tide was coming in and the waves getting bigger sending a continuous spray of saltwater my way. The sun was setting and I was wearing sunglasses simply to keep the water our of my eyes. I was sufficiently dry be the time we walked home and probably could have salted a years worth of the country's peanut crops with what salt was left on me, my hair, and my bag.

That was about it for my little break from mental stimulation. We jumped right back into things when one of my professors took us on a tour of Dakar on Sunday...and that's why i want to go see the goat cheese monks!!!!!*


       *I thought I'd leave that last little line from Grace who's wanting to go see the Abbey of Keur Moussa, where they are known for their goat cheese and mix of Wolof and Gregorian Chant. 

At the lighthouse during our tour of Dakar.
 My professor with a small child who attached herself to Grace's finger and
proceeded to tour the lighthouse with us. Don't worry we gave her back before leaving.

The rest of the week's been filled with academics and family time, though I think we're having another go at HLM market tomorrow and working on some plans for this weekend. Hopefully I'll get to write once more before heading to St. Louis on Tuesday.

Oh, and Happy 18th Birthday to Dylan! Sorry I don't have a better way of being in touch, but I hope you had a great day and all is going well with the college search.

Back to School

This past week has been focused on academics. With eight hours of class three days a week, and four hours of class the other two days, it’s difficult to find time to get out and explore.  We have either Dakar in Transition or Senegalese River Valley from 9-11, Wolof from 11-13, a 2-hour lunch break, then Seminar from 15-17, and finally History of Islam from 17-19. That gives me about two hours to relax and get home before dinner, which is usually served around 21 (9 pm).  After dinner I usually spend some time with the fam and doing my homework before heading to bed at a time my Pappa finds amusingly early.  We did, however, manage to discover an outdoor bar conveniently located just around the corner from school and I was able to find a Church not too far away that I will be observing as part of my research of Catholicism in Senegal.

Classes in Senegal are very different from what I’ve become accustomed to at K. In addition to being in French, they are generally an hour and fifty minutes of our professor talking at us, followed by fifteen minutes were we are supposed to share observations and ask questions. This particular style of teaching makes more sense when put in context. Senegalese students focus on memorizing facts and figures, whereas in the States it is more common for professors to emphasize critical thinking.  I have to keep this in mind when I find myself wondering why a lecture lasted close to two hours rather than twenty minutes.

That being said, we’ve had some very interesting discussions, generally spurred on by our professors’ desire to know how things work in the States.  I sometimes find I am more shocked by their perception of the U.S. than by how things run here in Senegal. My History of Islam professor, quickly becoming my favorite, is always making us laugh with his comments about the U.S. One day he was explaining that Muslims are obligated to donate 2.5% of their saving to the poor. After having given us all a hard time for emphasizing our need to save, being students and all, he ended the discussion by saying, ‘If Bill Gates were Muslim, WWOOOOWWW!! Imagine how much he would have to give!’ What with his animated teaching style and laid-back personality I am glad he teaches our last class of the day.

That’s about if for now. Tomorrow my mom is helping me talk to the tailor. My French is coming along, but not quite at the point were I can articulate what sort of dress I want made. Particularly not the traditional Senegalese outfit I am having made for Tabaski. (Tabaski is a Muslim holiday coming up in about a month, in which people get dressed up and slaughter a goat. That’s pretty much all I’ve heard of it so far but I’m sure we’ll learn more as the date gets closer.) Thankfully tomorrow is Friday, only a half-day of classes, and some exciting weekend plans ahead.

Hopefully I’ll have some more exciting news and pictures after the weekend.

Scenes de la Vie

A hodgepodge of pictures from our first few weeks in Dakar.

*I stole these from Grace's photobucket page so there are a few random shots of her fam/house.

Here are a few more pictures from our first month in Dakar

Le Weekend

Yes I realize it's Thursday and a lil late to be writing about last weekend, but what with power outages and hours of class 3 days a week that's just how it is.

Friday night we were supposed to go to the club with Tolisto, Lauren's host brother, and some of his friends however, as it got to be about midnight, still TWO hours from going out time we decided it just wasn't going to happen. Instead we hung out on our street for the night, a very common thing for the Senegalese.

Ngor

Saturday afternoon we headed to Ngor, a beach in northern Dakar. We made it there only after being delayed by a sudden rainstorm. When it rains here, it pours. While waiting out the storm at Lauren's house we watched as buckets were lined up to catch excess rain falling in the courtyard. The buckets, each holding at least 5 gallons, were full in about 20-30 minutes. When we finally left the house the streets were so flooded, one step out the door and it seemed like we were already at the beach.

Preparing for the boat ride to Ngor

"Manageable Chaos"

         Then here was the boat ride out to the island, where the beaches are less crowded. 'Less' being the operative word here. You pay 250 CFA for the ride, about $0.50. After paying for your ride you are handed a lifejacket-the first security measure I've seen in Senegal. I wasn't sure if I should take that as a sign of assurance or worry they thought it necessary. The boat itself looked like a giant rowboat with a motor attached to the back. When it pulled up people began swarming toward it like bees on honey. I've started describing most situations here as 'managed chaos, and this was no exception. Everyone crammed  in, squashed side by side, knees to backs, feet in about 6 in. of water, the boat about 6 in above the water-at most! The ride back to the main land was no different-with the exception of a man pronouncing his love for Grace-apparently not that uncommon an occurrence here.

  Saturday night I am proud to say we made it out to the club but beforehand we met up with another ACI student named Mat who discovered this swanky lil restaurant/bar called Balajo.  There was an AMAZING reggae band playing. Sadly none of us can remember the name of the band. After the concert we met up with Grace's brother, two of Lauren's brothers, and one of their friends. Having five Senegalese men to three American women seems to be the way to go. Only one time did Tolisto have to step in and tell a man that I couldn't dance with him because I was married. And then that Lauren was married. And Grace. I don't think he really believed it, but it worked.

Sunday was a lazy day. I finally dragged myself our for a run with Grace after lunch. We've been running through Corniche, an area along the beach in Mermoz. It seems to be the safest place, even for two toubab women. There's a Radison, Sea Plaza-a fancy European style mall, and a number of embassies. The climate here is not ideal for running, but the view along Corniche more than makes up for it!

L'ecole de la Rue

One of the requirements for my program is that I must complete and Integrative Cultural Research Project (aka an ICRP). An ICRP includes finding something particular to Dakar that I am interested and a way to 'integrate' myself in that aspect of life. We spend about 3 months volunteering wherever we choose and at the end of our stay write a 10-15 page research paper discussing the aspect of Senegalese life in which we choose to volunteer. Oh and that 10-15 pages is in French!

Anyway, I mention this now because on Tuesday we visited an informal school called 'L'ecole de la Rue' or 'The School of the Street.'  Informal schools are schools that do not follow a government mandated syllabus, they serve students who have failed out of school or for some other reason cannot attend public schools. This particular school also operates during traditional summer vacation (August-September) and offers English/French classes at night. L'ecole de la Rue is located in a impoverished areas just outside Centre Ville.

These are the types of homes the students were living in

Laundry hanging in the 'street'

Impoverished areas here are not like those in the U.S. Often times in the U.S poor neighborhoods are seen as unsafe and you need to be more vigilant when traveling through them. Our experience was quite the opposite. After learning about the school, we took a tour of the neighborhood and were accompanied by all the students-ages 3-13. First of all, there was no taking attendance, counting students, holding hands when crossing roads etc. I doubt the professor would have noticed had some of the students left the tour. Second of all, I was shocked by how open and inviting families were. One women welcomed us into her home while she explained how she controlled one of the two water taps. Other people allowed us into their work space where some were beading flip flops by hand and others using scrap metal to make small coal burning stoves.

Founder and professor of the school

The kids loved being with us, holding our hands, and most of all seeing the digital pics we took. They were all in high spirits but it was difficult to see the conditions in which they lived and were attempted to learn. The Senegalese education system is very different from that of the U.S. and I'm thinking my ICRP will somehow be education related, focussing on street schools.

The nicest/largest classroom of L'ecole de la Rue

Grace with a few students

Oh and sorry mom, I know I said this would be up yesterday, but the power went out about 20 mins after I talked to you and I'm just now getting a chance to post it. As my prof often says, 'That's Senegal for you.'

Adjusting to 'La vie Senegalese'

After being in Dakar for just over a week, I have decided to start a blog so I can more easily keep everyone updated. This way I can also start to share some photos. Lauren, the student from the College of Wooster who is studying through Kalamazoo's program, takes amazing pictures!

Here's a short recap of my first week:
Upon arrival we were picked up by two ACI (African Consultants International) staff members and dropped of at an apartment to relax and clean up before attending our first orientation session. We spent the first night at the apartment and moved in with our host families Tuesday afternoon. My host family consists of a retired couple and their two daughter, a son and his children who will return from vacation in another week, and another American student, Ann, who is here until November. We live in the Mermoz district right next door to Lauren.

We have had 2 Wolof lessons during which we have learned the traditional greetings and a few phrases to help us get by on the streets and at the markets. Actual classes don't start until this Thursday so most of our time at school had been seminars on things such as safety, health, Senegalese culture, and gender issues. Thaiba-our guide-showed us around the neighborhoods near our school and took us to downtown Dakar a few time. She is teaching us how to bargain in the markets-we were able to get our first purchase, 6 meters of fabric which made each of us a skirt, for only 12,000 CFA=$24 by telling the vendor it was Lauren's birthday. That was the first time, and definitely not the last, that someone asked if we were all twins! Apparently we look alike the Senegalese and nobody seems to knows the english word for triplets so we are just three toubab twins.

Saturday we went to Goree, an island off the coast of downtown Dakar, which was the first French settlement and used as a trading post for slaves. We visited a museum known as the Maison des Esclaves (House of Slaves). The rooms around the main courtyard on the first floor were about 8x10 and held anywhere from 10-25 slaves at a time. At the rear of the house is a door that opens to the coast know as the 'door of no return' through which slaves boarded ships heading to Europe and the Americas. The island is a popular tourist attraction and the vendors have adapted. When Coco, one of the Goree vendors, approached us while waiting for the ferry we thought she was just a friendly vendor who happened to spot a toubab that might want to come by her shop. Then we met Veronique, Yasmine, and a number of other women. When we entered the market that afternoon they all called out, "Oh my American friends, remember me from the boat?" "You say you come to my shop first, be my first customer of the day!" "Help me feed my family." After an hour or so we were completely wiped out and took a quick swim in the beautifully clear cool water to relax be making the trip home.

Saturday night was a different type of experience altogether. Lauren and I went out to a club with Grace and her host brother. First thing you should know is that clubs don't really get going till about 2 am! So, a little tired from our long day and still getting used to the language we ventured into Dakar's nightlife. Needless to say we already stand out in a crowd just being toubabs, but our dancing did nothing to help. All Senegalese people can dance, seriously ALL of them. Then there come the songs with synchronized dance moves, a few of which Cisco (Grace's brother) taught us. We left the club around 3:30, way too early according to all the people we met on streets. Even having left early, I spent most of Sunday just hanging with my fam. Although in the afternoon Lauren's host brothers took us to the Mermoz beach, a 15 minute walk from home, and we tried our first Senegalese ice cream!

Three tubaabs heading to the beach with Lauren's brother Talisto

That's all for now. Hopefully I can keep on top of my entries so they are a little less lengthy and more detailed.

Love to you all,
Ellen