Ramadan

Being out of village for IST did wonders to my hut. It looked as if the bugs and rodents of Medina Dar Salam had thrown a frat party. There were homes constructed all around the interior perimeter of my hut, mostly ant hills and termite mounds with plenty of spider webs thrown in there (the man-eating ones of course). My back yard/sand was pure weeds that I had to wade through to get to my douche before I got to clearing everything out. Home sweet home.

But really it is good to be back. I had missed my family here without really knowing it. Everyone was so excited to see me back, which was really encouraging! Having a family as big as mine here and truly liking every single individual is an incredible blessing. I have special bonds with many of my family members and every day those strengthen and new unique bonds form.

I gave them bubbles which was a huge hit!



The last week has been a perfect mixture of work, bonding, culture immersion and down time. I've done baby arm-measurements, helped with a mosquito net distribution, worked on a questionnaire for my village and worked in the fields with my family. Working in the rice fields has been surprisingly rewarding. Barefoot, in the mud, with only the women, chatting and clearing weeds.

Ramadan has provided a cultural insight nothing else could quite compare to. It was undetermined which date Ramadan would actually begin (the 12th or 13th), because the Islamic calendar follows the lunar calender. Seeing the moon signified the beginning of Ramadan. When everyone saw it they got giddy and kept pointing towards it. You can see the tiny silver of moon here:

That night my entire family went to mosque together (the women are only allowed to go during Ramadan). The men all prayed inside and the women and children in the courtyard. There I was, my head draped in a scarf out of respect, amidst a 100% Muslim group following their lead in prayer. It was an overwhelming feeling to have such an insiders view. It gave me chills to realize that I am truly living life in Senegal and being accepted into the community.

Fasting lasted about 3 days for me. I was waking up at 4am to have breakfast with my family and then didn't eat until breaking fast at 7:30 pm. It wasn't that bad not eating, but it's impossible to be active, which is crucial to my mental stability here. Fast-breaking with my family is not much, but it was especially enjoyable when I was fasting. The first day everyone broke fast together with bread and tea, laughing and excited to eat.

On day 4 of fasting, God knew I needed a break. Spence and I went to church at the home of a Catholic family near my village and there was a baptism with a party afterward. My day was the complete opposite of fasting. We cooked, danced, ate duck and drank palm wine. It was just like coffee and doughnuts except better, and now I have church buddies!

Love you all and hope things are well! Updates make me happy :o)

In-service training and the gluttony that ensued

I have been out of the village awhile now. My recent travels included visiting my friend Sarah in her Sereer village near Mbour, Thies for In-service training (IST), Popenguine for a much needed beach day and then experiencing the magic of Dakar.

IST consisted of two weeks of sessions geared towards giving us more specific information and training to carry out projects in our villages. They ranged in variety from agricultural techniques, to douche (bathroom) building, to radio broadcasting, to funding sources and everything in between. Having been at site for about two months now, we all have a vague idea of what might benefit our village most.

The projects that I am most excited about and/or hope to implement revolve around girls empowerment and child nutrition. I plan on spending the next month completely dedicated to getting to know my community. I want to find out if they are also as interested in these areas of development, why or why not?, if not what they think is most needed, who would be motivated work partners, etc.

I would like to have an small girls group that meets regularly to discuss important topics and do fun activities. Many girls here do not have much of a childhood. It is very common in rural villages that girls do not attend school. If they do attend school they are often pulled out at a very young age to either help with work around the family compound or be married off (something I also want to address). I want to have a group that informally helps girls develop self-esteem, leadership skills, attain information about STD and pregnancy prevention, etc. mixed with fun activities and underlying female bonding. I hope to eventually do a girls camp that mixes all of this into a fun filled week...we shall see.

Child malnutrition is one of the biggest problems in my village. Overall nutrition is very poor in my area so by training new mothers on nutrition for their infants, I hope to trickle down nutrition education. One model I may use is the Hearth Model, which is a two week approach to teaching mothers of malnourished children, nutritious porridge recipes and tracking child weigh to promote behavior change. The other is the Care Group Model, which focuses on the training of trainers. It would consist of forming many small groups of people who each choose a leader. Then, the leaders would be trained on a variety of health topics and given the responsibility to meet individually with members of their small groups and train them.

These are just ideas that I am throwing around. It will all come down to what my village wants and needs, my desires, the motivation of the people I am working with, etc. Plus, Africa has a tendency so throw curve balls your way and send you down paths you never expected. I also have to keep in mind that you can only work at the pace of your community. Here in Senegal the phrase “hurry up and wait” comes to mind quite often.

Dakar is, as my dear fellow PCV and recent travel buddy, Anna Alsobrook said, “is the land of milk and honey.” There you can consume delicious food (and actually have options), hang out with American ex-pats and other volunteers, shop at the most amazing (and only) grocery store in Senegal, etc. I may have consumed my body weight in food daily while in Dakar.

We fit in some educational touristy stuff by visiting Île de Gorée and the presidential palace. Île de Gorée is an island off the coast of Dakar that was used as a port during the slave trade before shipping slaves off to Europe and the Americas. The island was full of history and culture. Currently, it is inhabited by about 1200 Senegalese (a mixture of Catholics and Muslims living in harmony) and a large number of artists that are squatters, living in what used to be French military bunkers. It gave me the bizarre feeling of being a tourist, as well as, the sensation that I was not in Senegal anymore. I also got my first residency discount (because guess what? I really live here!).

At the presidential palace Anna and I made good friends with the guards while trying to convince them to let us in to meet the president or, at least, check out the sweet crib. We talked for awhile and would have gotten forcibly removed outside the White House for the ridiculous questions we were asking. For example, exactly which room does the president sleep in? Which room is he in this very moment?, etc. The guards not only asked for our numbers, but stepped away from the palace to walk us to dinner...reminders that I am NOT in D.C.

Now I am preparing to return to my village in the morning. I'm riding a roller coaster of emotions. Being in a setting in which I have been around Americans, have a variety of food choices, speak English, have the academic learning part of my brain stimulated, and so on, have made me feel closer to America. This has, in turn, made me yearn for home even more (It didn't help that I watched Rudy today. It did not help that while in Dakar, I realized that, time wise it would take less time to get to America than it does to reach my village on wonderful (read with great sarcasm) Senegalese public transport.

Ramadan begins in a couple days. This is like the Islamic version of Lent. It is a holy month of fasting and penance. Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. I plan to try it out to see what my family is going through but who knows how long it will last. From gluttony to fasting...Ramadan take one...

Right to Sight Eye Clinic

The past two weeks in Senegal have been some of the best of my service. The non-profit organization, “Right to Sight and Health (http://www.righttosightandhealth.org/),” came to the Tambacounda Regional Hospital with the intention of restoring sight through providing cataract surgeries for those in need, while training a local nurse to continue providing care. Tamba volunteer Anna's dad, optometrist Rick Alsobrook, joined Right to Sight to do consultations, identifying cataract surgery candidates and checking patients visual acuity to provide glasses or medications to correct vision.

As Peace Corps volunteers our biggest role was to provide translations between the American doctors and nurses and the Senegalese patients. We ended up having a much more hands on role in the whole process assisting the doctors and nurses anyway we could.

My job the first week was to work with post operative patients. We took off their bandages, cleaned their eyes, gave them a series of drops, translated for them for their day one check up and then gave them instructions on how to take care of their eye. It was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.



One day a 19 year old came in for a consultation. She was completely blind in both eyes. The doctor said her cataracts were so dense that it was very likely surgery would produce no results. He decided to go ahead and give it a chance considering her age and the fact that she had nothing to lose. The next day another volunteer removed her bandage and as I walked by her she grabbed my arm and said “I can see you!!” Tears immediately filled my eyes and I knew that if nothing else came of this mission it would still have been completely worth it.



This is her, Oulymatu Sow, with her sister and myself, after getting her 2nd eye surgery. She can now see out of both eyes and be an independent 19 year old woman.
The second week I had the chance to work in the operating room. As volunteers our job was to get patients ready for surgery by numbing their eyes with drops and cleaning them with iodine. During the surgery we would light the alcohol lamp for cauterization (because we are still in the middle ages here), prepare the implant lens, get the doctors anything they needed, prepare anesthesia for the following patients, clean instruments, etc. When surgery was over we would give a shot of steroid under the eye, give a series of eye drops and patch the eye. It was so neat to have such a hands on experience in the OR.



We also get to repeatedly watch surgery. An added bonus was that we had a teaching microscope so at times we could watch the surgery at microscopic level and see exactly what the doctors were looking at. It felt like I was watching discovery channel.



The results of the mission were amazing. 185 surgeries were performed. Countless consultations were conducted. One nurse was trained to do the surgery and can continue to correct cataracts. Other nurses were trained to use equipment to better check visual acuity and identify eye problems.

The end of the two weeks was bittersweet. I was exhausted but after feeling productive everyday and being involved in a team working for something so positive it was hard for it to end. At the end I really felt inspired. The doctors and nurses were so dedicated and in love with their jobs. I enjoyed what I did so much I could see myself going into nursing or medicine. To show patients compassion, be their advocate and work towards their better health was so satisfying.

Biking in the name of America...also why is there weave in my millet

To celebrate America's birthday this year I got bamboozled into taking a proposed three day bike trip to Kedagou, where the Peace Corps volunteers of Kedagou region throw an annual fourth of July party. The first day was a 70 k bike ride from Tamba to my site where I met several other people along the Gambia River. I was excited to not only get my first non-neighboring visitor, Kim, who had traveled all day from the North to see my site before heading to Kedagou, but also Anna, Jillian and Kourtney from my stage, Austin a Tamba PCV from a previous stage, and Aude a Tostan volunteer living in Tamba. We all spent the night a my site. We were very resourceful with sleeping arrangements. Aude in her hammock, Kim and I on a discarded donkey charet, Kourtney in her tent and the rest of the crew on mats in my backyard.

The real fun started at 5am on July 2nd with the call to prayer. Kim and I had last minute decided to join the bike crew and after waking up to the blaring mosque we all packed up and began a day we could not have previously imagined. Our plan was to bike around 70k before the extreme heat of the day and stop around noon to refill our water and eat lunch at a little “hotel” that a previous group had told us about. All of the second day was to be done through Nikola Koba National Park, which is government protected land without any shops along the road. We each had around 7 liters of water and a bean sandwich to tide us over until we reached this hotel. We biked and biked and biked thinking our break destination was just around the corner until we realized it was 2pm and we were being stupid biking through the heat of the day.

A few people got overheated and stopped to rest while another group member started experiencing major dehydration and continued biking serpent like with all her effort up a huge hill. I followed her and at the top she got off her bike and couldn't breath. She was acting delusional and after some salt replacement and rest in the shade things got better, but we started worrying about our lack of water for the next supposed 30-40 kilometers. At this time the other portion of our group had been chased out of their resting spot by baboons and the oncoming threat of warthogs.

While we were discussing how we were going to solve our water shortage a huge storm rolled in. The wind picked up and rain started pouring down. The song, "I bless the rains down in Africa," will forever have a new meaning. Freezing we started collecting rain water and huddled up into a group under the biggest tree we could find. In the matter of a minute we went from worrying about heat exhaustion to hypothermia. We started taking turns on the side of the road waiting for a car to either give us water or take us the to our destination for the night. We got lucky and a car of Peace Corps Volunteers rolled by. They gave us all their water and after the storms slowed down we continued on our way.

After 50 kilometers we finally found a sign for a “hotel,” and started off the beaten path towards it. The sun was setting and everyone was exhausted and frustrated. The half mile long path was one giant mud puddle completely sabotaging our bikes and to make matters worse we were followed by devilish children the entire way. We reached our destination and after they tried to overcharge us for a half hour we reached an agreement and settled into our nasty hotel room. We had biked 85 miles through the hills in all kinds of unusual circumstances, but our group could not have been better. Everyone was positive and at the end of the day we couldn't help but laugh our heads off.

The next morning we planned on riding our last 40 k in the mountains to a beautiful hotel on the Gambia River, but by the time we got done cleaning our bikes we couldn't have made it before the heat of the day. We rented a car and got there as quick as can be and plopped our butts rights by the pool. It couldn't have been a better decision!




The rest of the weekend we spent celebrating America. I got to catch up with all the amazing people who I spent training with, eat yummy food, drink yummy drinks, play games, speak English, listen to and dance to American music, and even had a fireworks show. There was a 5k run coordinated by volunteers in which both Senegalese and volunteers participated in. Spence ran it in jellies. We also floated down the river which was relaxing besides the possibility of hippos. I have to say Senegal is pretty good at celebrating America's birthday. Now back to the village...

Happy hay fuss...and Flag Day

Hay fuss means "nothing." It's a favorite response when you ask a kid what they are doing, have done or are going to do. "Hay fuss." That is also what I did today (two words=GLEE. Marathon.). It was a lovely break before going to Kolda for a language training tomorrow.

I taught my little sister in village to say "that's what she said." If you don't understand you might have been living under a rock for quite sometime now...or maybe Africa. Anyway it's the small things that make you smile.



Rainy season is starting to show it's face. My doors don't shut. I am away from site for a week and in that time my brothers are supposed to be installing new doors. Inshallah. The few storms we have had have been refreshing. After only two rains Medina is active with people planting and greenery (weeds) poking out everywhere. Before 97% of what I looked at was beigeish in color. I am loving the new verdant vibe.

Neem. It's a tree that is native to Senegal. It's leaves can be used to make a lotion for mosquito repellent. I taught a big group of women how to make it using my baby Pular. I plan on doing a lot more of this because with rainy season come the mosquitoes and malaria cases.

Mika and I painted a mural at the health hut in my village. It is a woman and child sleeping under a mosquito net. It's supposed to remind people to hang their nets. Our paint brushes fell apart and we finger painted a large percentage of it.

P.A.P.

So my neighbor Mika and I came up with a P.A.P (Positive Action Plan). This is to prevent us from insanity while integrating into a community that doesn’t speak our language, share our customs, practice our religion, eat our food, etc.

One of the tenants in our P.A.P. is hut painting. Week one Mika visited and we painted a beach scene on my wall. I basically live in a tropical paradise now. We have yet to pimp out his hut but rest assured it will be rockin’.



At the core of our P.A.P. is *WASSADOU WEDNESDAY* This is a highly looked forward to weekly event by Spence, Mika and I. We all meet at the weekly market in a nearby village. There we buy veggies and cold drinks and sit around eating bean sandwiches practicing our sweet new language skills with the people. Then we head to a Campemont on the Gambia River where we enjoy a cold beer, watch the hippos, play games and have ‘toubab’ time. PS: Last time as we left we got screamed at by a baboon...needless to say we all three nervously pedaled as fast as we could away.



Our future P.A.P. endeavors are sure to be as entertaining as the latter. I have proposed a backyard grill in bathing suits with buckets full of bleach water and beach balls so we can pretend we are at the pool/beach....Please send me your fun ideas and I shall bring them up at the next Wassadou Wednesday.

Random tidbits about my new life...

I live in a petting zoo...seriously in the states you could charge admission to a place with this many animals.

I have yet to decide on my least favorite Senegalese animal: roosters, donkeys, goats, man eating spiders... (I consider these an animal based on their fur content)

A little girl cried because she had to sit next to me on public transport. I would guess she was about seven and terrified to sit next to the white woman.

The religious leader (Imam) of my village insists that I learn Arabic in addition to my Pular and recite the Quran....I told him “Si Allah Jabi” (Meaning “if God wills it” and used anytime an outcome is uncertain.)

Personal space is non-existent in Senegal. People will literally stand with their entire body pressed to yours in public places and think nothing of it.

I am an expert at pulling water from the well.

My family doesn’t understand my dislike for spiders but show them a frog and they run...it’s a good mood booster.

I woke up this morning at 3am shivering. As I went to get another sheet I checked the thermometer. 83 degrees...what is wrong with me?

I sleep with a sham wow because I have to wipe my body of dripping sweat approximately every two minutes without exaggeration.

My doorway is four feet high...I will most likely have scoliosis by the time I return.

I eat peanut butter out of a plastic bag.

Almost every single villager I have come in contact with owns something that has a picture of Barrack Obama on it.

Joonie joonie (right now)...could mean in a half hour...or in 4 hours...Arg.

When traveling to bigger villages, towns, cities we white folks constantly hear, “Toubab okkuan cadeau.” Hey white person give me a present.

Things I know how to say in Pular that you wouldn't learn in your first couple years of English: termite mound, poop kettle, goat intestine, braid pick, machete, how many wives do you have? 'Nuff said...

While one the way to Tamba Spence tried to open the door to our public transport and it literally fell off.

PS: A beetle the size of my big toe just clamped onto my big toe...Holy crap I live in Africa? Now I am going to try to fall asleep with visions of attacking beetles in my head...sweet dreams!