Sunday, December 29, 2013
Christmas
Christmas was fun! We all took our annual showers, but on clothes that were clean (or GASP new!) and spent some quality time together!
Universal Net Distribution
Yay free stuff! Universal net distribution was recently in my village and I was lucky enough to be involved in the entire process! Net distribution is a government organized, USAID funded program with the ultimate goal of every person to have a net to sleep under, every night, all year long. While there are flaws to this plan, it is not because of the project structure. People just don't like to sleep under nets. Some people find them too hot, others think the pesticide coating causes itching, and many people simply say they don't have enough money to buy them. Net distribution addresses the last excuse.
The process for me began with a census. I went with my counterpart and the other relais from my health area (Bignarabe) and went house to house, asking how many people lived in each compound and looking at each sleeping space. Why not beds? you might be asking. Not everyone has a bed, and kids often sleep on a mat or mattress on the floor, and other people have areas set up outside. These are all included in the census. I hit 7 villages in 3 days and went to approximately 200 compounds. This was just a fraction of the villages and compounds we were expected to cover, but other relais went to other villages. Once we were done we brought our results back to the health post, who took them to the regional capital in order to actually request the nets.
Fun midway fact, I was the only female involved in the census. I pointed this out to my counterpart, who has come to understand my sensitivity to gender differences, and he said it was because women can't ride bikes, and the whole census was done on bikes. That's ridiculous! I ride a bike. Then I asked Fatou, my female counterpart, and she confirmed it- none of the women could ride a bike, and the only one that could was a teenager and needed to go to school instead. Thinking about it later it would have been hilarious to see these cheb mama women riding their bikes through bush-beaten tracks. But I digress.
The day of was very simply people coming to my village and picking up their nets. We tried to give a talk beforehand, but we hadn't told anyone this was a requirement and everyone thought they could just pick up their nets and go back to cooking or the fields. The rest of the day went well though, and I got to see everyone from my village as well as meet people from the surrounding villages.
The process for me began with a census. I went with my counterpart and the other relais from my health area (Bignarabe) and went house to house, asking how many people lived in each compound and looking at each sleeping space. Why not beds? you might be asking. Not everyone has a bed, and kids often sleep on a mat or mattress on the floor, and other people have areas set up outside. These are all included in the census. I hit 7 villages in 3 days and went to approximately 200 compounds. This was just a fraction of the villages and compounds we were expected to cover, but other relais went to other villages. Once we were done we brought our results back to the health post, who took them to the regional capital in order to actually request the nets.Fun midway fact, I was the only female involved in the census. I pointed this out to my counterpart, who has come to understand my sensitivity to gender differences, and he said it was because women can't ride bikes, and the whole census was done on bikes. That's ridiculous! I ride a bike. Then I asked Fatou, my female counterpart, and she confirmed it- none of the women could ride a bike, and the only one that could was a teenager and needed to go to school instead. Thinking about it later it would have been hilarious to see these cheb mama women riding their bikes through bush-beaten tracks. But I digress.
We had two days of distribution prep and a full day of actual distribution. Prep involved unwrapping each net and writing the name of the head of household, town, area, year, and date. We were provided with four pens, all of which ran out on the first day. We poured water into them to get every last mark we could, and we able to borrow two pens from the Totstan teacher. Things would have gone much quicker and a little less frustrating though if we were all able to have pens.
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| I really wanted a good pen. |
The day of was very simply people coming to my village and picking up their nets. We tried to give a talk beforehand, but we hadn't told anyone this was a requirement and everyone thought they could just pick up their nets and go back to cooking or the fields. The rest of the day went well though, and I got to see everyone from my village as well as meet people from the surrounding villages. |
| Nima with her new nets! |
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| For your viewing pleasure. |
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Scholarship Complete
I have wrapped up my scholarship program for the 2013-2014 school year. Yes, school has started. Most of the students have finally arrived in village to begin the scholarly year, and that includes my six beautiful, smart scholarship girls.
The process began right after I installed in May. First their teachers recommended them, then they had to undergo an interview, write an essay, and introduce me to their families. Once this was over, the Peace Corps SENEGAD (our PC gender equality board) approved their application, sent me the money, and I was able to pay their inscription and go shopping for them. Senegal does not have a free public school system, so if parents want their children to learn they have to pay for them to go to school. Primary school is a 500 cfa inscription fee (roughly $2), middle school is a 5 mille inscription fee (roughly $10), and Arab school is free. Buying school supplies here is not easy. Families often have to scrounge the money for he inscription let alone notebooks, backpacks, pens, etc. I bought each girl a bookbag and filled it with notebooks, pens, and a geometry set. I was also able to purchase them each a math textbook. This is great because it will ease the contribution of the family. With that money they could send another child to school or buy more food- the possibilities are endless. And most importantly, the girls get to learn.
When I was conducting my family visits, my site mate and I made the trek to a village 20 km away
to see two of the girls. We went to meet the first family, and the father wasn't there- they sent a child to the field to get him. We waited probably half an hour and decided to go see the other family and come back. That went fine. Everyone was welcoming and polite; only later did I learn that she was supposed to get married and the decision to send her back to school for another year was made last minute. She is currently in my village and has kept learning. When we returned to the first family the father had still not come back. After a while he finally came back, and we told him why we were there and what we were offering, not even thinking that he would turn it down. Who would turn down money? He did not seem excited. We asked him if he was ok, and he told us he had to talk to his older brother; they weren't sure if she was going back to school. Families here are hierarchical, so younger brothers must consult older brothers about important issues. They talked for what felt like a long time, and I was very nervous. What if they told her she couldn't go back to school? What was the reasoning? Fortunately, I did not have to find out. Her father and uncle came back, and said she was going to learn.
I was nervous she wouldn't show up when school started, so I brought each girl their backpack of goodies right after Tabaski, when everyone told me school was about to start. I wanted to remind them of what I was offering and make sure they would come back. I'm very glad I did. I'm not sure if they forgot or were originally underwhelmed anyway, but I brought my village cheif with me and he made a huge show of asking every child in the village if they were going to school this year, and he talked to the parents explaining the program in native Pulaar tongue. His family hosts several students from this village, and he greeted all of their families too and made sure they were returning. Would they have come back without this push? I'm not sure.
School in Senegal is difficult, especially for the children who have to leave home to learn. The kids in my village are able to stay with their families, but there is only one other middle school in my area outside of Kolda, and no high schools. Kids have to find homestays or walk ridiculous distances in order to get the most basic of educations. Primary schools are more abundant, but if the goal is an educated population Senegal is not meeting it's mark.
So what I'd like to say is thank you to everyone who donated, and for those who did not I will be doing the same program starting this March, so look for my donation link. If you don't have the money, I would love it if everyone just appreciated what they have been given. Education is a beautiful thing, and since I've been here I thank God every day for the opportunities I've been given.
JAM TAN.
The process began right after I installed in May. First their teachers recommended them, then they had to undergo an interview, write an essay, and introduce me to their families. Once this was over, the Peace Corps SENEGAD (our PC gender equality board) approved their application, sent me the money, and I was able to pay their inscription and go shopping for them. Senegal does not have a free public school system, so if parents want their children to learn they have to pay for them to go to school. Primary school is a 500 cfa inscription fee (roughly $2), middle school is a 5 mille inscription fee (roughly $10), and Arab school is free. Buying school supplies here is not easy. Families often have to scrounge the money for he inscription let alone notebooks, backpacks, pens, etc. I bought each girl a bookbag and filled it with notebooks, pens, and a geometry set. I was also able to purchase them each a math textbook. This is great because it will ease the contribution of the family. With that money they could send another child to school or buy more food- the possibilities are endless. And most importantly, the girls get to learn.
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| I presented Djeneba with her certificate. Isn't my mansuit fetch? |
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| The girls, the principal, and me with their certificates. |
to see two of the girls. We went to meet the first family, and the father wasn't there- they sent a child to the field to get him. We waited probably half an hour and decided to go see the other family and come back. That went fine. Everyone was welcoming and polite; only later did I learn that she was supposed to get married and the decision to send her back to school for another year was made last minute. She is currently in my village and has kept learning. When we returned to the first family the father had still not come back. After a while he finally came back, and we told him why we were there and what we were offering, not even thinking that he would turn it down. Who would turn down money? He did not seem excited. We asked him if he was ok, and he told us he had to talk to his older brother; they weren't sure if she was going back to school. Families here are hierarchical, so younger brothers must consult older brothers about important issues. They talked for what felt like a long time, and I was very nervous. What if they told her she couldn't go back to school? What was the reasoning? Fortunately, I did not have to find out. Her father and uncle came back, and said she was going to learn.
I was nervous she wouldn't show up when school started, so I brought each girl their backpack of goodies right after Tabaski, when everyone told me school was about to start. I wanted to remind them of what I was offering and make sure they would come back. I'm very glad I did. I'm not sure if they forgot or were originally underwhelmed anyway, but I brought my village cheif with me and he made a huge show of asking every child in the village if they were going to school this year, and he talked to the parents explaining the program in native Pulaar tongue. His family hosts several students from this village, and he greeted all of their families too and made sure they were returning. Would they have come back without this push? I'm not sure.
School in Senegal is difficult, especially for the children who have to leave home to learn. The kids in my village are able to stay with their families, but there is only one other middle school in my area outside of Kolda, and no high schools. Kids have to find homestays or walk ridiculous distances in order to get the most basic of educations. Primary schools are more abundant, but if the goal is an educated population Senegal is not meeting it's mark.
So what I'd like to say is thank you to everyone who donated, and for those who did not I will be doing the same program starting this March, so look for my donation link. If you don't have the money, I would love it if everyone just appreciated what they have been given. Education is a beautiful thing, and since I've been here I thank God every day for the opportunities I've been given.
JAM TAN.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
The Running of the Konkoron
My introduction to the konkoron began innocently one fall day. I went out onto the Kolda streets and was immersed in a huge crowd of men and boys. At the front of this crowd is... a thing. I'm not sure how to describe it, so good thing I have pictures. It's like a cross between Bigfoot and a tree, if either of those things wielded machetes. I escaped unscathed, but my next encounter involved me riding my bike and a konkoron chasing me with a machete (I won).
WHAT IS GOING ON?
In Senegal, males aren't circumcised until they are around 8-10 years old. A respected, older man in the community will take them into his hut and perform the surgery. Once they are circumcised, they are now men. The day of circumcision they are pampered and petted, and the village women cook them huge meals. Weeks later, there is a party because they are finally healed. They get fed and pampered again, and they get new outfits and a fancy hat. Their fathers put them on their shoulders and carry them to the chief's compound to celebrate their manhood, and everyone has a huge dance party.
So how does the konkoron fit in exactly? I'm sure there's some Santa Claus-Christmas link there somewhere, but I have yet to fill it out. A vital piece of information: women aren't supposed to see the konkoron. The Consequence? He or his guard will hit you. The konkorons have machetes and their minions have large branches.
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| FOOD. |
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| Receiving a blessing from the cheif. |
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| A father with his son on his shoulders. |
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| The boys in their new attire |
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| Before the circumcision. |
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| After the circumcision. |
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving is the best holiday. There's no hype, then it's just here, and everyone is together and eating and it is wonderful. It is my favorite, and although I'm missing my family back home, I might feel even more thankful for things than I ever have before. There are the materialistic things: good, vitamin rich food, running water, the internet, and my Kindle are all things I'm thankful for. I'm also thankful for road repair teams that have the thankless job of getting rid of those menacing potholes. This year, however, I've been looking at the bigger picture: if I wasn't born into the life I have, where would I be? The possibilities are endless.
Comparing myself to the girls in my village, I know exactly what I'm thankful for. I'm thankful for being given the opportunity to learn and better myself at any moment. At no point in my life did my parents tell me I couldn't go to school. At no point did they insist I break free of my childhood and start pulling my own weight workwise. At no point was I ever made to feel inferior to my brother just because I was born a girl. I've been watching these girls struggle against gender norms and it is just so bizarre to me. I've been listening to people argue for the girls, yet there is still the older generation that insists it is the girls who don't want to learn. This may be true for some girls; school isn't for everyone, and it is especially challenging when it is not taught in one's native tongue. That is not, however, the majority's opinion. While I watch this struggle I am also able to witness the growth that is happening, certainly slowly but also surely.
So I am thankful for my supportive parents, supportive teachers, supportive grandparents and coaches and friends, and my supportive government. Thank you for giving me an equal opportunity. Thank you for encouraging me and instilling a desire to continue learning. Thank you for never making me feel like a second class citizen. Happy Thanksgiving!
Comparing myself to the girls in my village, I know exactly what I'm thankful for. I'm thankful for being given the opportunity to learn and better myself at any moment. At no point in my life did my parents tell me I couldn't go to school. At no point did they insist I break free of my childhood and start pulling my own weight workwise. At no point was I ever made to feel inferior to my brother just because I was born a girl. I've been watching these girls struggle against gender norms and it is just so bizarre to me. I've been listening to people argue for the girls, yet there is still the older generation that insists it is the girls who don't want to learn. This may be true for some girls; school isn't for everyone, and it is especially challenging when it is not taught in one's native tongue. That is not, however, the majority's opinion. While I watch this struggle I am also able to witness the growth that is happening, certainly slowly but also surely.
So I am thankful for my supportive parents, supportive teachers, supportive grandparents and coaches and friends, and my supportive government. Thank you for giving me an equal opportunity. Thank you for encouraging me and instilling a desire to continue learning. Thank you for never making me feel like a second class citizen. Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Heyo Toubab, Give Me a Present!!!
Toubab. A word that will continue to haunt me and everything I do for the next year and a half. In Senegal "toubab" is a term that generally means "Westerner," "foreigner," or "white person." For Americans, pointing out differences, especially race, is an uncomfortable and generally avoided topic. In Senegal the complete opposite is true. In case you didn't know, I'm white. It has been made glaringly clear how white, and therefore different, I am.
What does this mean to Senegalese? Toubabs are all super rich and keep American visas in their back pocket to hand out to everyone they meet. (That was sarcasm.) Like I've glossed over before, Senegalese culture is extremely giving and open. If asked, they will usually give. Some volunteers have a problem with the term toubab and what the perceived consequences of being a toubab. We are often asked for money, or visas, or our hand in marriage, or even just our things. Here's the thing: so is everyone else. We toubabs are just much more awkward about it because we're not used to such blatant demands.
So what really bothers me? It's not the word or the attention, it's the constant reminder that I am not from here and will never be able to fit in. No matter how I acclamate to the culture or perfect my Pulaar, it is just too glaringly obvious that I was not born here. Will they ever accept me? I'm not sure.
I do think we are targeted more, but only because we're so visible. I can now spot another white person from three blocks away. This combined with the idea that all toubabs are rich will draw the talibes (Koranic students who beg on the street) and just regular children wanting un petit cadeaux. It was super awkward at first, but now I just say no or I give them something. The other day I was riding my bike through the streets of Kolda munching on some corn on the cob when a child yelled, "Yo toubab, okk kam tabano! (Hey white girl, give me your corn)" I was full and the corn was not that good (fun fact, the corn here is the corn we feed our livestock in America), so I gave it to him. He was obviously not expecting that, because his eyes lit up and he started running after my bike to get the corn. Conversely, today someone asked me for my bike and I declined. Sometimes I turn the tables on them and tell them that I'm their guest and they should be giving ME presents. Sometimes this backfires, and they offer me the only food they have or the 100 cfa they've begged that day, which I might take for a second just to tease them and then give back extremely magnanimously.
In the words of my father, Stephen Boland, better known at Steve-o: "He who hesitates is lost." Thanks, Steve-o, you really get Senegal.
What does this mean to Senegalese? Toubabs are all super rich and keep American visas in their back pocket to hand out to everyone they meet. (That was sarcasm.) Like I've glossed over before, Senegalese culture is extremely giving and open. If asked, they will usually give. Some volunteers have a problem with the term toubab and what the perceived consequences of being a toubab. We are often asked for money, or visas, or our hand in marriage, or even just our things. Here's the thing: so is everyone else. We toubabs are just much more awkward about it because we're not used to such blatant demands.
So what really bothers me? It's not the word or the attention, it's the constant reminder that I am not from here and will never be able to fit in. No matter how I acclamate to the culture or perfect my Pulaar, it is just too glaringly obvious that I was not born here. Will they ever accept me? I'm not sure.
I do think we are targeted more, but only because we're so visible. I can now spot another white person from three blocks away. This combined with the idea that all toubabs are rich will draw the talibes (Koranic students who beg on the street) and just regular children wanting un petit cadeaux. It was super awkward at first, but now I just say no or I give them something. The other day I was riding my bike through the streets of Kolda munching on some corn on the cob when a child yelled, "Yo toubab, okk kam tabano! (Hey white girl, give me your corn)" I was full and the corn was not that good (fun fact, the corn here is the corn we feed our livestock in America), so I gave it to him. He was obviously not expecting that, because his eyes lit up and he started running after my bike to get the corn. Conversely, today someone asked me for my bike and I declined. Sometimes I turn the tables on them and tell them that I'm their guest and they should be giving ME presents. Sometimes this backfires, and they offer me the only food they have or the 100 cfa they've begged that day, which I might take for a second just to tease them and then give back extremely magnanimously.
In the words of my father, Stephen Boland, better known at Steve-o: "He who hesitates is lost." Thanks, Steve-o, you really get Senegal.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Suduu am e Asmau
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| The two-benoir laundry system. |
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| This is my "douche," aka shower (left) and "toilet" (right) |
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| Add caption |
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| Storage and water filter. |
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| My beautiful square hut! |
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| My mom's hut, my hut, my aunt and uncle's hut. |
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| As-meow! |
C'est Senegal Quoi!
I'm back in Kolda after being away for about a month and it feels great! While I was away I learned so much at IST, caught up with my friends, and got to compare stories about our villages. It's crazy how different yet the same all of the regions and ethnic groups of Senegal are. One of the best underlying qualities of Senegalese culture is a communalistic approach to life, and I'll share some anecdotes on why I love this so much:
After and intense two weeks some of us headed to Popenguine (THE BEACH) to relax before going to plant some mangroves. We got two different houses, and some of the girls were hanging out at out house chatting and boiling some water so we didn't have to buy some and lug it down a mountain. The gas for the stove was turned off nice and tight, so after some struggling we had the boys come over to use their muscles to turn it on. So we're chatting and Courtney all of a sudden says "fire," very calmly. Fire? Oh yes. Fire. On the stove. First instinct: Get the fire extinguisher. Then I remembered fire extinguishers aren't really a thing here (except in cars- seriously), and all of my fire training momentarily went out the window. We tried turning off the gas, but since the tank was under the stove and we couldn't even turn it on, this was a bust. Did I mention our house didn't have any water? No? So we were throwing our half empty water bottles on the fire. Screaming like chickens with our heads cut off, along with the medium sized stove fire, alerted the people on the beach to our woes. Suddenly there were at least ten Senegalese people in our house yelling at us not to throw water on it, but throwing sand. One of the boys hurdled the counter, turned off the gas while simultaneously beating out the fire with a sheet. And then the fire was out, and the Senegalese women helped us sweep up the sand. Then our landlady told us that stove was broken and there was another one. We had thought it was a counter.
But how awesome was it that all those people, who probably thought we we just a bunch of silly tourists, ran in to help us put out a fire? We all thought it was pretty awesome.
Scenario Deux (that means scenario two in French):
Those of you who know me know that I do not hold onto my things very well. Throughout this three week adventure I managed to hold on to my stuff surprisingly well. Last night I stopped in Tambacounda with some of my friends, and checked my internet before going to bed. Then I woke up early this morning and headed to the garage. I'm at the garage, all proud of myself for losing nothing, when I come to the horrible realization that I left my computer in the regional house. Not only do I actually have a ton of work to do now, but I have to check my Facebook at least 40 more times before I go back to site. And by the time I realized it we were one person away from filling up the sept place, which could take minutes or years. So I told the sept place driver, who didn't speak Pulaar, so he got a third party translator, who decided we would just go to the house and get it. None of us knew where it was so he flagged down a taxi who took us there, where my wonderful friend was waiting outside for me with my computer. And that is how I came to write this riveting blog today. Any driver in America would have told me I was SOL, but six strangers agreed to take me literally to my doorstep to retrieve my things.
Was I done losing my things today? Absolutely not. I managed to leave my sleeping bag in the sept place and my phone in a taxi. I went to the garage without much hope, and the sept place driver knew exactly who I was and gave me my missing bag. I called the taxi driver and he came back to my house and returned my cell phone, which is pretty nice- it has a flashlight in it. In America, and most places, those things would have been gone. Today Senegal has treated me well.
After and intense two weeks some of us headed to Popenguine (THE BEACH) to relax before going to plant some mangroves. We got two different houses, and some of the girls were hanging out at out house chatting and boiling some water so we didn't have to buy some and lug it down a mountain. The gas for the stove was turned off nice and tight, so after some struggling we had the boys come over to use their muscles to turn it on. So we're chatting and Courtney all of a sudden says "fire," very calmly. Fire? Oh yes. Fire. On the stove. First instinct: Get the fire extinguisher. Then I remembered fire extinguishers aren't really a thing here (except in cars- seriously), and all of my fire training momentarily went out the window. We tried turning off the gas, but since the tank was under the stove and we couldn't even turn it on, this was a bust. Did I mention our house didn't have any water? No? So we were throwing our half empty water bottles on the fire. Screaming like chickens with our heads cut off, along with the medium sized stove fire, alerted the people on the beach to our woes. Suddenly there were at least ten Senegalese people in our house yelling at us not to throw water on it, but throwing sand. One of the boys hurdled the counter, turned off the gas while simultaneously beating out the fire with a sheet. And then the fire was out, and the Senegalese women helped us sweep up the sand. Then our landlady told us that stove was broken and there was another one. We had thought it was a counter.
But how awesome was it that all those people, who probably thought we we just a bunch of silly tourists, ran in to help us put out a fire? We all thought it was pretty awesome.
Scenario Deux (that means scenario two in French):
Those of you who know me know that I do not hold onto my things very well. Throughout this three week adventure I managed to hold on to my stuff surprisingly well. Last night I stopped in Tambacounda with some of my friends, and checked my internet before going to bed. Then I woke up early this morning and headed to the garage. I'm at the garage, all proud of myself for losing nothing, when I come to the horrible realization that I left my computer in the regional house. Not only do I actually have a ton of work to do now, but I have to check my Facebook at least 40 more times before I go back to site. And by the time I realized it we were one person away from filling up the sept place, which could take minutes or years. So I told the sept place driver, who didn't speak Pulaar, so he got a third party translator, who decided we would just go to the house and get it. None of us knew where it was so he flagged down a taxi who took us there, where my wonderful friend was waiting outside for me with my computer. And that is how I came to write this riveting blog today. Any driver in America would have told me I was SOL, but six strangers agreed to take me literally to my doorstep to retrieve my things.
Was I done losing my things today? Absolutely not. I managed to leave my sleeping bag in the sept place and my phone in a taxi. I went to the garage without much hope, and the sept place driver knew exactly who I was and gave me my missing bag. I called the taxi driver and he came back to my house and returned my cell phone, which is pretty nice- it has a flashlight in it. In America, and most places, those things would have been gone. Today Senegal has treated me well.
A PCVs Travel Day in Pictures
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| Yayyyy, we love alhams! Traveling is so easy and comfortable and fun! |
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| So much room! |
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| A Ferry? That's normal. |
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| OMG WE'RE MOVING. |
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| I guess it stopped being fun. |
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| Don't worry. Only 5 more hours to go on a bumpy road in the dark. What could go wrong? |
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| I guess just a small fire and a flat tire. |
Friday, August 23, 2013
I Can't Marry You Because You're Too Ugly
One of my favorite aspects of Senegalese culture is how much everyone jokes. Joking is so important, if you can't do it people simply won't like you as much. Senegalese joking is not like American joking- there are no puns or knock knock jokes. It's more along the lines of "You like to steal all of my cashews" or "You can't fast because your belly is too big" or "I can't marry you because you're too ugly."
So to illustrate this I'm going to tell you about my neighbor Jabi. He's about 45-50 years old, has 12 (literally) children, a wife and an ex-wife (so scandalous), and he really wants to marry me and go to America. When other people ask me to marry them, I get angry or annoyed depending on how much I've eaten that day. I'm sorry Mr. Stranger on the Street, no I'm not interested in becoming Mrs. Stranger on the Street. When it's a friend or a family friend I'm a little less blunt, and usually just tell them they are way too ugly and I would never marry them. If I'm feeling serious I'll tell them I'm too young for a husband, or I don't want one because right now I want to work, or if I get married without consulting my parents in America they will beat me. I meant that one as a joke but no one really got it, and it has since retired.
Then there's Jabi, who lives one compound over and calls me Aissatou Jabi. My new name is Aissatou Diallo (I-sa-too Ja-lo). So he'll call "Aissatou Jabi!" over the fence, and I'll not really listen and yell "Yes?" back, and then he and everyone else will giggle because I don't know my own name. So when he talks about getting married, I am very adamant and pull out all the insults. He is too ugly, too poor and can't afford my bride price because I am VERY expensive, he's already got a wife, I will refuse to cook or clean and he would need to do all of the house work because I want to lay around all day, etc. Personal attacks are super fun. Sometimes he jokes that he's going to come steal me, and I tell him I'm stronger than him, and if I run away he won't be able to catch me because he's old and smokes. I tell him my dad will beat him if he comes near me, but when he pretends to, everyone just sits around because they think it's so funny. One time I threatened him with a stick and he had to run away. That was fun.
But aside from defecting potential suitors, there are also joking relationships between family, and this is way more fun because there are so many more people. As I just mentioned, I'm a Diallo, and we are hands down the best family in West Africa. My family originally is from Guinea, as are most Diallos. Our joking cousins are the Ba's and the Balde's, which are also numerous throughout Kolda. Names in Senegal are already a huge deal. If I'm out of village and I meet another Diallo they are considered my "musibbe" or family. Diallos look out for Diallos, Balde's look out for Balde's, and Diallo's and Balde's love insulting each other.
One of the more motivated women in my village is named Hawa Baa. I go to her compound a decent amount since she is my counterpart's aunt as well as president of the women's garden. Most people call her Neene Hawa, since she is an older women with children ranging from 2-22. Instead, I call her Neene Thief. I am totally allowed to do that, and everyone thinks it's so funny. She'll retaliate by asking me where my dad put all of the peanuts he stole, and during Ramadan she would always ask me what my dad ate that day (since he was fasting) and told me the reason I couldn't fast was because I am a Diallo.
These joking relationships are hands down my favorite thing about Senegal. It's so easy to break the ice, especially if you find a joking cousin. I can insult the man at the market trying to give me a tourist price because he's a Balde, and the guard at the Peace Corps house is super smelly because all Baas are smelly. It's a great way to integrate and show people I'm not just some toubab coming here to tell you how to live your lives. I want to learn Pulaar, and I want to be a part of your community, and I want to insult all the Baas and Baldes because, let's face it, they are just inferior to us Diallos.
XOXOXOXOX Merci,
Kim
So to illustrate this I'm going to tell you about my neighbor Jabi. He's about 45-50 years old, has 12 (literally) children, a wife and an ex-wife (so scandalous), and he really wants to marry me and go to America. When other people ask me to marry them, I get angry or annoyed depending on how much I've eaten that day. I'm sorry Mr. Stranger on the Street, no I'm not interested in becoming Mrs. Stranger on the Street. When it's a friend or a family friend I'm a little less blunt, and usually just tell them they are way too ugly and I would never marry them. If I'm feeling serious I'll tell them I'm too young for a husband, or I don't want one because right now I want to work, or if I get married without consulting my parents in America they will beat me. I meant that one as a joke but no one really got it, and it has since retired.
Then there's Jabi, who lives one compound over and calls me Aissatou Jabi. My new name is Aissatou Diallo (I-sa-too Ja-lo). So he'll call "Aissatou Jabi!" over the fence, and I'll not really listen and yell "Yes?" back, and then he and everyone else will giggle because I don't know my own name. So when he talks about getting married, I am very adamant and pull out all the insults. He is too ugly, too poor and can't afford my bride price because I am VERY expensive, he's already got a wife, I will refuse to cook or clean and he would need to do all of the house work because I want to lay around all day, etc. Personal attacks are super fun. Sometimes he jokes that he's going to come steal me, and I tell him I'm stronger than him, and if I run away he won't be able to catch me because he's old and smokes. I tell him my dad will beat him if he comes near me, but when he pretends to, everyone just sits around because they think it's so funny. One time I threatened him with a stick and he had to run away. That was fun.
But aside from defecting potential suitors, there are also joking relationships between family, and this is way more fun because there are so many more people. As I just mentioned, I'm a Diallo, and we are hands down the best family in West Africa. My family originally is from Guinea, as are most Diallos. Our joking cousins are the Ba's and the Balde's, which are also numerous throughout Kolda. Names in Senegal are already a huge deal. If I'm out of village and I meet another Diallo they are considered my "musibbe" or family. Diallos look out for Diallos, Balde's look out for Balde's, and Diallo's and Balde's love insulting each other.
One of the more motivated women in my village is named Hawa Baa. I go to her compound a decent amount since she is my counterpart's aunt as well as president of the women's garden. Most people call her Neene Hawa, since she is an older women with children ranging from 2-22. Instead, I call her Neene Thief. I am totally allowed to do that, and everyone thinks it's so funny. She'll retaliate by asking me where my dad put all of the peanuts he stole, and during Ramadan she would always ask me what my dad ate that day (since he was fasting) and told me the reason I couldn't fast was because I am a Diallo.
These joking relationships are hands down my favorite thing about Senegal. It's so easy to break the ice, especially if you find a joking cousin. I can insult the man at the market trying to give me a tourist price because he's a Balde, and the guard at the Peace Corps house is super smelly because all Baas are smelly. It's a great way to integrate and show people I'm not just some toubab coming here to tell you how to live your lives. I want to learn Pulaar, and I want to be a part of your community, and I want to insult all the Baas and Baldes because, let's face it, they are just inferior to us Diallos.
XOXOXOXOX Merci,
Kim
Ramadan Mayyii!!!!!!!!
March 2013 has officially made it to IST! This is a second training that focuses more on strategies to connect with our communities as well as more health technical information. It's only day 3 and I already feel like I've learned so much and am so excited to go to village and start some projects.
The best news I have for everyone is that Ramadan is over! Thank God. Ramadan is the Muslim holiday in which people fast from sunlight to sundown while still going about their daily lives. This is very, very difficult, especially when your job is working in the field all day. Everyone was completely exhausted for an entire month, as well as cranky and irritable. I tried fasting one day to the utter joy of my community, only to realize I am very weak. I made it all morning- I woke up at 4 am to eat breakfast, then didn't eat or drink until I broke around 4. After lying in my room on my floor for hours staring at some mangoes and knowing I had granola bars in my trunk, I army crawled to my backyard and came to in a pile of mango peels and granola bar wrappers feeling extremely guilty. That didn't stop me from drinking some water though. I never told anyone about my moment of weakness, and everyone in my village was so happy I "fasted." I told them I couldn't and it was hard, though, and that I couldn't do it again the next day. When pressed I said I thought I was going to die and that I really loved life. My aunt Oumou kept pressing the subject, and I told her she only wanted me to fast so that I would die and she could have my hut. Everyone thought this was absolutely hilarious and the story is still told to this day.
So Ramadan was tough. After my failure I refused to try again, but they appreciated that I even tried. Children aren't supposed to fast, and neither are pregnant or breastfeeding women. Most pregnant women that I saw didn't fast, but a lot of the breastfeeding women did, including my mother. Pulaars tend to be a lot more religious and don't necessarily fully understand the consequences of unhealthy lifestyles. Some of the ideas behind fasting are so sensitive it's hard to combat. For example, a woman in a neighboring village decided to fast because two of her older children had died, which she believed was because she didn't fast when she was pregnant with them. You're also supposed to make up the days later, which is harder since you do it all by yourself. I know my mom did fast when she was pregnant last year because she was making up some days in June and July.
After a month of this, there is Korite. Korite is wonderful. It's a huge party that everyone gets really excited for. Everyone gets a new outfit and shoes and jewelry, and the women get their hair done. They spend a lot of money not only on clothes but food as well. the whole village chipped in to buy a cow! They cooked with oil and there were carrots and potatoes and peppers in the bowl. It was wonderful. Everyone had diarrhea for days.
Aside from eating patron food and drinking boissons (soda), it's also a great day to greet everyone. I put on my beautiful complet, tikka and all, and went compound to compound greeting the families and congratulating everyone on finishing yet another Ramadan. This was great because everyone was happy again and it was actually fun to talk to them.
So that was Ramadan!
-Kim
The best news I have for everyone is that Ramadan is over! Thank God. Ramadan is the Muslim holiday in which people fast from sunlight to sundown while still going about their daily lives. This is very, very difficult, especially when your job is working in the field all day. Everyone was completely exhausted for an entire month, as well as cranky and irritable. I tried fasting one day to the utter joy of my community, only to realize I am very weak. I made it all morning- I woke up at 4 am to eat breakfast, then didn't eat or drink until I broke around 4. After lying in my room on my floor for hours staring at some mangoes and knowing I had granola bars in my trunk, I army crawled to my backyard and came to in a pile of mango peels and granola bar wrappers feeling extremely guilty. That didn't stop me from drinking some water though. I never told anyone about my moment of weakness, and everyone in my village was so happy I "fasted." I told them I couldn't and it was hard, though, and that I couldn't do it again the next day. When pressed I said I thought I was going to die and that I really loved life. My aunt Oumou kept pressing the subject, and I told her she only wanted me to fast so that I would die and she could have my hut. Everyone thought this was absolutely hilarious and the story is still told to this day.
So Ramadan was tough. After my failure I refused to try again, but they appreciated that I even tried. Children aren't supposed to fast, and neither are pregnant or breastfeeding women. Most pregnant women that I saw didn't fast, but a lot of the breastfeeding women did, including my mother. Pulaars tend to be a lot more religious and don't necessarily fully understand the consequences of unhealthy lifestyles. Some of the ideas behind fasting are so sensitive it's hard to combat. For example, a woman in a neighboring village decided to fast because two of her older children had died, which she believed was because she didn't fast when she was pregnant with them. You're also supposed to make up the days later, which is harder since you do it all by yourself. I know my mom did fast when she was pregnant last year because she was making up some days in June and July.
After a month of this, there is Korite. Korite is wonderful. It's a huge party that everyone gets really excited for. Everyone gets a new outfit and shoes and jewelry, and the women get their hair done. They spend a lot of money not only on clothes but food as well. the whole village chipped in to buy a cow! They cooked with oil and there were carrots and potatoes and peppers in the bowl. It was wonderful. Everyone had diarrhea for days.
Aside from eating patron food and drinking boissons (soda), it's also a great day to greet everyone. I put on my beautiful complet, tikka and all, and went compound to compound greeting the families and congratulating everyone on finishing yet another Ramadan. This was great because everyone was happy again and it was actually fun to talk to them.
So that was Ramadan!
-Kim
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Get out and Push.
You can't be a Peace Corps volunteer without traveling a bit. For us down in the beautiful and luscious region of Kolda, this usually entails hours upon hours of traveling on questionable roads. I tried unsuccessfully to find a picture, so you'll just have to use your imagination. I'm assuming you've seen Swiss cheese. The road kind of looks like that. The holes can be tiny and just an irritation or they can be craters the cars literally have to drive around. You know how in America you drive on either the right side or the left side depending on what way you're going? In Senegal you drive wherever you can to avoid other cars, bikers, pedestrians, and donkey cars as well as giant craters. If you come to Senegal and are prone to getting car sick even a little, don't leave Dakar. That being said the road is not as bad as it is in Kolda throughout Senegal. Kolda has been a little neglected in the past because it's so far away from everything, but there have been talks to fixing the road. If this happens it would cut at least an hour off any trip if not more, and it would be a miracle.
The next best type of car is a sept place (7 places), which has 7 seats for passengers. One lucky individual gets to sit up front with no people, while everyone else is squished in the back. The worst seat is the very back middle, which I thankfully have never been forced to experience. These are more expensive than other options but good for long rides (i.e. Dakar or Thies or almost anywhere from Kolda). They fill up the car with 7 people and then just drive until you get there. They can drop people off along the way, since some towns on the road don't have a garage, but you still have to pay the full price.
When going to a town without a garage, you can also take what volunteers call an Alham, so named because they usually have "Alhumdulilah" written on the front. I have no idea what these cars are actually called, which can be a problem when traveling. In those cases I just point and get in. These are good for short distances or if you're strapped for cash because they're cheaper. Unfortunately they stop a lot to pick people up and drop people off and aren't as efficient. They can also get really full.
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When in the city you can also take a taxi. These are wonderful especially when it's really hot out or I get a nice package downtown. I don't recommend leaning, on the doors, however, since a good bounce can unlatch the door. My lovely friend Courtney experienced this while we were off-roading to a farm, and I haven't leaned on a door since. (She's not dead, FYI.)
As you might or might not have noticed from these wonderful pictures I've posted, compared to America the vehicles are a little run down. This can sometimes make for some uncomfortable yet interesting traveling. When traveling anywhere I give myself a whole day and try to leave as early as possible. This may not always work, as I learned when I went to Kedagou for the 4th of July and sat waiting for my sept place to fill up for 4 hours. Volunteers like to fill a whole car to cut down on awkwardness and waiting time, and I joined such a car on the way back from the same trip. Unfortunately our car broke down about halfway through the trip. Fortunately we (and by we I mostly mean the driver and the one male volunteer in our car) only had to push the car about a kilometer to the garage. There we waited for about 2 hours while they fixed the car. But it's ok because I got to buy Pringles in Tamba. This being said, it IS amazing that some of these cars can still run and these mechanics are geniuses.
So the only one I left out of my wonderful synopsis was the motorcycle. These are banned by the Peace Corps because they are unsafe, but there are so many motos in Senegal. They are everywhere. They are actually pretty dangerous, especially since the roads are full or holes they have to avoid as well as sand they can slip on. They are, however, the preferred Senegalese mode of quick transportation. I'll stick with my bike, though, thanks.
*Disclaimer: I don't know any of these people who took these pictures personally, and found them via a Google search. So thanks omalleyausenegal.wordpress.com (sept place) peacecorpsgray.wordpress.com (alham), and www.pbase.com (taxi).
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| The Best Region |
What, you ask, are the cars like? That, my friend, is a wonderful question, and there are several different answers. The best kind is a Peace Corps car or another NGO car. These cars have air conditioning and are just like cars in America. I rant and rave about how wonderful Totstan is all the time, and they only proved how truly wonderful they are by picking me up during an especially long bike ride at the hottest time of the day. It was a wonderful ride and they are wonderful people.
The next best type of car is a sept place (7 places), which has 7 seats for passengers. One lucky individual gets to sit up front with no people, while everyone else is squished in the back. The worst seat is the very back middle, which I thankfully have never been forced to experience. These are more expensive than other options but good for long rides (i.e. Dakar or Thies or almost anywhere from Kolda). They fill up the car with 7 people and then just drive until you get there. They can drop people off along the way, since some towns on the road don't have a garage, but you still have to pay the full price.
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When going to a town without a garage, you can also take what volunteers call an Alham, so named because they usually have "Alhumdulilah" written on the front. I have no idea what these cars are actually called, which can be a problem when traveling. In those cases I just point and get in. These are good for short distances or if you're strapped for cash because they're cheaper. Unfortunately they stop a lot to pick people up and drop people off and aren't as efficient. They can also get really full.
When in the city you can also take a taxi. These are wonderful especially when it's really hot out or I get a nice package downtown. I don't recommend leaning, on the doors, however, since a good bounce can unlatch the door. My lovely friend Courtney experienced this while we were off-roading to a farm, and I haven't leaned on a door since. (She's not dead, FYI.)
As you might or might not have noticed from these wonderful pictures I've posted, compared to America the vehicles are a little run down. This can sometimes make for some uncomfortable yet interesting traveling. When traveling anywhere I give myself a whole day and try to leave as early as possible. This may not always work, as I learned when I went to Kedagou for the 4th of July and sat waiting for my sept place to fill up for 4 hours. Volunteers like to fill a whole car to cut down on awkwardness and waiting time, and I joined such a car on the way back from the same trip. Unfortunately our car broke down about halfway through the trip. Fortunately we (and by we I mostly mean the driver and the one male volunteer in our car) only had to push the car about a kilometer to the garage. There we waited for about 2 hours while they fixed the car. But it's ok because I got to buy Pringles in Tamba. This being said, it IS amazing that some of these cars can still run and these mechanics are geniuses.
So the only one I left out of my wonderful synopsis was the motorcycle. These are banned by the Peace Corps because they are unsafe, but there are so many motos in Senegal. They are everywhere. They are actually pretty dangerous, especially since the roads are full or holes they have to avoid as well as sand they can slip on. They are, however, the preferred Senegalese mode of quick transportation. I'll stick with my bike, though, thanks.
*Disclaimer: I don't know any of these people who took these pictures personally, and found them via a Google search. So thanks omalleyausenegal.wordpress.com (sept place) peacecorpsgray.wordpress.com (alham), and www.pbase.com (taxi).
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Cheebu Jen and Tentalu
What better way to kick of Ramadan than to talk about all the food not being eaten?? To all of my Muslim friends, Happy Ramadan! Let the next month of fasting from sunrise to sunset commence in peace.
So what, you ask, do we eat over here in Senegal? That depends, firstly, on location, and secondly on family income.
Cheebu Jen is the national dish of Senegal. It consists of primarily rice with fish, but if the family has the money (or a garden) also includes vegetables. Sometimes they can add spices or a seasoning packet to the rice for an extra kick, but it can also be plain white rice. They'll obviously gut the fish and de-scale it (that's the technical term). The more vegetables in the bowl the more "patron" the family is, but the funny thing is not everyone even likes vegetables. I see a carrot and I'm almost foaming at the mouth but in other bowl all of those wonderful veggies are passed on. Eggplant, carrots, potatoes, hot peppers, bitter peppers (which I think most people don't like but people put in the bowl anyway), and and sometimes even cooked mangoes end up in this wonderful dish. Cheb is a great dish, but with all the fish and veggies a good bowl of cheb can be pretty patron. People in the cities tend to eat more cheb than people in the villages.
This time of year there is a lot of mafe gerte, at least down south were I am. This might be connected to the fact that my fathers are peanut farmers. I love plain mafe gerte. They grind of the peanuts and make it into a peanut sauce similar to peanut butter and then water it down. If they're feeling adventurous they might add dried fish or tentulu, which does have health benefits. There are other types of mafe as well, the next most popular being leaf sauce. It's ok and can be eaten with rice or cous cous. Crushed hot pepper on the side makes it even better.
What is this tentalut I speak of? It translates into palm oil. Here comes my first conundrum as a health volunteer. I hate tentalu. I've tried it several times and think it is absolutely disgusting. Unfortunately, it's actually pretty good for you. Generally, Senegalese people LOVE tentalu. My mother was crushed when I told her I did not like it, but has since not made it when I have been home.
Nancatay (sp?) is a new favorite. It's rice mixed with spices and sometimes bits of dried fish. It's good on it's own but again improved by crushed hot pepper.
If there's some extra money or a special occasion cow, goat, sheep or chicken can be added to the dish. I've eaten goat stomach, and once you get past the texture, it ain't too shabby.
Those are pretty much lunch and dinner dishes, but we sometimes eat leftovers for breakfast (without meat). There are also two types of porridges. Gosi is a rice porridge often had with crushed peanuts, while mogni is cous cous porridge and one of my favorite things in Senegal. You can add powdered milk or yogurt to add taste or texture.
There are also bread stands all over the place, and here you can get a sandwich of sorts. They will have beans, peas, mayonnaise, and sometimes eggs, which can be hard boiled or made into an omelette. Eggs are semi-expensive though. This can be complemented by a nice cup of cafe Touba or Nescafe, loaded with condensed milk and sugar. It's delicious.
While eating out, which I tend to do in Kolda since I'm so lazy, there are several wonderful items you can eat. There are chicken plates, and plates of beef, and spring roll-esque food called nems that I devour, but the unquestionably best and most delicious is the Senegalese variation of the hamburger. American hamburgers generally have a bun, meat patty, lettuce, tomato, onions, ketchup with French Fries on the side. In Senegal it's a little different. Here there's also mayo (surprise!), an egg, and French fries inside the burger. Take my work for it, it's delicious.
Well, that's about it folks. If you have any questions at all feel free to comment or email me at kimberly.a.boland@gmail.com and I'll try to answer them directly or in the next post!
Jam tan.
So what, you ask, do we eat over here in Senegal? That depends, firstly, on location, and secondly on family income.
Cheebu Jen is the national dish of Senegal. It consists of primarily rice with fish, but if the family has the money (or a garden) also includes vegetables. Sometimes they can add spices or a seasoning packet to the rice for an extra kick, but it can also be plain white rice. They'll obviously gut the fish and de-scale it (that's the technical term). The more vegetables in the bowl the more "patron" the family is, but the funny thing is not everyone even likes vegetables. I see a carrot and I'm almost foaming at the mouth but in other bowl all of those wonderful veggies are passed on. Eggplant, carrots, potatoes, hot peppers, bitter peppers (which I think most people don't like but people put in the bowl anyway), and and sometimes even cooked mangoes end up in this wonderful dish. Cheb is a great dish, but with all the fish and veggies a good bowl of cheb can be pretty patron. People in the cities tend to eat more cheb than people in the villages.
This time of year there is a lot of mafe gerte, at least down south were I am. This might be connected to the fact that my fathers are peanut farmers. I love plain mafe gerte. They grind of the peanuts and make it into a peanut sauce similar to peanut butter and then water it down. If they're feeling adventurous they might add dried fish or tentulu, which does have health benefits. There are other types of mafe as well, the next most popular being leaf sauce. It's ok and can be eaten with rice or cous cous. Crushed hot pepper on the side makes it even better.
What is this tentalut I speak of? It translates into palm oil. Here comes my first conundrum as a health volunteer. I hate tentalu. I've tried it several times and think it is absolutely disgusting. Unfortunately, it's actually pretty good for you. Generally, Senegalese people LOVE tentalu. My mother was crushed when I told her I did not like it, but has since not made it when I have been home.
Nancatay (sp?) is a new favorite. It's rice mixed with spices and sometimes bits of dried fish. It's good on it's own but again improved by crushed hot pepper.
If there's some extra money or a special occasion cow, goat, sheep or chicken can be added to the dish. I've eaten goat stomach, and once you get past the texture, it ain't too shabby.
Those are pretty much lunch and dinner dishes, but we sometimes eat leftovers for breakfast (without meat). There are also two types of porridges. Gosi is a rice porridge often had with crushed peanuts, while mogni is cous cous porridge and one of my favorite things in Senegal. You can add powdered milk or yogurt to add taste or texture.
There are also bread stands all over the place, and here you can get a sandwich of sorts. They will have beans, peas, mayonnaise, and sometimes eggs, which can be hard boiled or made into an omelette. Eggs are semi-expensive though. This can be complemented by a nice cup of cafe Touba or Nescafe, loaded with condensed milk and sugar. It's delicious.
While eating out, which I tend to do in Kolda since I'm so lazy, there are several wonderful items you can eat. There are chicken plates, and plates of beef, and spring roll-esque food called nems that I devour, but the unquestionably best and most delicious is the Senegalese variation of the hamburger. American hamburgers generally have a bun, meat patty, lettuce, tomato, onions, ketchup with French Fries on the side. In Senegal it's a little different. Here there's also mayo (surprise!), an egg, and French fries inside the burger. Take my work for it, it's delicious.
Well, that's about it folks. If you have any questions at all feel free to comment or email me at kimberly.a.boland@gmail.com and I'll try to answer them directly or in the next post!
Jam tan.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
5 Week Challenge- Check!
Let's all just take a moment and think about how wonderful washing machines are. They are beautiful, wonderful, helpful machines that make our clothes smell and nice and fresh. Over the past five weeks I like to think I've really become accustomed to some of the tougher aspects of life. Every morning I pull water to drink and every night I pull water to have my bucket bath. Every couple of days to a week I pull water to "do laundry." As I think I've explained before, this entails have two separate buckets, one to scrub the clothes down with soap, and after you wring them out you put them in the clean water to soak before you wring them out to dry in the sun. The Senegalese ladies have a wonderful system of scrubbing every inch of every piece of clothing that at the moment I feel I will never be able to copy. My little sister laughed at my skills and since then my pride has been hurt; since then I have not allowed anyone else to watch me do laundry.
My family is wonderful! My "parents" are around 35 and 25, and they have four children: Ramatouly (8), Ibrahima (6), Alpha (3), and Mamadou Yaya (6 months). I also have an "aunt" (Umu) and an "uncle" (Omar) who are really great. He's around 30 and she's 18- they have one son, Moutarou, who just turned two. My mom's are really great- they take me everywhere with them and introduce me to their friends, and teach me the difference between Fulakunda Pulaar and Pulla Futa Pulaar, which is apparently vast. The kids are great and it's cool to watch them becoming socialized. For example, Alpha and Moutarou are just learning how to eat at the communal bowl. Normally people eat with their right hand and have their left hand on the bowl, but Alpha always forgets and his left hand is in everyone's way when we're trying to eat, and he's always getting yelled at. They also like to stand up and announce they are full a lot, walk away for a bit, play, and then come back and claim they were never full and absolutely must eat some more. Sometimes this happens once, sometimes lot's of times, and every time their mothers get very upset and and yell at them.
So what is my daily life like? I sit around a lot. I (try to) talk to people. I watch my moms cook and drink tea. I visit other compounds and try to make friends. My main strategy has been to break out into random dancing and I think it's been pretty successful. Now anytime anyone sees me they tell me to dance and I'm obliged to comply. Not that it'll be a surprise to anyone, but everyone says I'm really good at dancing. I also attend Pulaar School quite a bit. An NGO in the area,Totstan, has programs running in about a dozen villages around Kolda that simultaneously teaches adults (almost all of the students are women- my counterpart signed up for the class just to be involved and sometimes the chief will come watch) how to read Pulaar and live healthier lifestyles. This specific class is focused on taking care of children and has talked about nutrition, sanitation, the importance of ALL children to go to school as long as possible. Totstan has also discussed touchier subjects in the past, such as female genital mutilation (FGM), and I think they've done a great job getting people to think critically about these issues. Not only that, but a lot of the women (most if not all didn't go to school long enough to learn how to read) are slowly but surely learning how to read and finding pride and enjoyment in their accomplishments! For the first couple weeks, without fail, my moms would want to read their Pulaar books with me before we all went to sleep. Women who are taking the class will ask me to sit with them while they read and help them through any difficulties. Another great aspect is that the women with older children let their kids read too. Although I'm sure it's not intentional, these family meetings inspire a love of learning in the kids. When they see thier moms doing something, they also want to do it. I've even seen the dads reading the books. Needless to say, I think Totstan is wonderful and I cannot wait for it to start again once Ramadan is over.
There are also meetings to go to. Sanankoro has a women's group who is currently collecting money to save for later. Right now people tend to have a little bit more money than usual because they've harvested and sold their crops, but come the cold season (aka starving season) there's less money to go around. So this group collects money throughout the plentiful times, puts it in the bank and withdraws it again when it is needed.
Workwise I've done a couple of things. I went on two vaccination tournees, which involves me, the health relais (essentially a volunteer health worker in the village), and the ICP (equivalent to an American nurse training wise, but since doctors are sparse in the rural areas they run the health centers and are a really big deal) going compound to compound giving polio vaccinations to children under the age of 6, as well as vitamin supplements. This was a semi traumatic experience for several reasons: 1. Children think they're getting shots, and they immediately start bawling, making it harder to get to their mouths and have them swallow all of these wonderful gifts, and 2. It's hot. On top of this I had my first serious toubab moment. For those of you who don't remember, toubab is word Senegalese people have for Westerners. The response to this generalization varies from person to person, but it's starting to grate on me. Generally they don't mean it maliciously, and are just really really really really excited to see a white person (although it does apply to other races and Senegalese people who are too "Western" as well). Well, I enter a compound on the vaccination tournee and make eye contact with this little boy, who is probably around 3. I see his face immediately drop and terror ignite in his eyes as he desperately starting clawing at his mother for safety. He was inconsolable. I couldn't go near him because he was so scared and after he got his vaccination his mother took him into a hut so he couldn't see me. Silly toubab, scaring all the children. Meanwhile his brother and sisters were laughing hysterically and trying to get me to go near him.
Aside from tournees I have my scholarship program going on! I'm still working on home visits but I'll wrap that up in a couple weeks. We were able to nominate six girls to receive inscription fees for the next school year! There were nine spots availalbe but an insufficient number of girls with qualifying grades. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED! Because we have less girls than we thought, we have already met the quota! Any overage will go to another volunteer's program since it's Peace Corps Senegal wide, which is just as great since girls will get the opportunity to learn!
I also attended a relais training with my counterpart, which was great because I got to meet a bunch of health workers in the area. Relais are volunteer community health workers and great PC work partners It was 4 days worth of walking 7km there and back, and everyone was astounded that my counterpart and I walked. I just told them it was good for our health. After the training was over we held a baby weighing to gauge malnutrition in the area and I'm happy to report that we had no severe cases and only two borderline cases. That's a great foundation for my work and I can't wait to see a bunch of fat little babies.
Next week I will be having language seminar at a fellow volunteer's site, and then it's off to beautiful Kedagou to celebrate the 4th of July with the Peace Corps fam! Looking forward to meeting the other volunteer's and seeing my stage mates again!
Ajaraama!
My family is wonderful! My "parents" are around 35 and 25, and they have four children: Ramatouly (8), Ibrahima (6), Alpha (3), and Mamadou Yaya (6 months). I also have an "aunt" (Umu) and an "uncle" (Omar) who are really great. He's around 30 and she's 18- they have one son, Moutarou, who just turned two. My mom's are really great- they take me everywhere with them and introduce me to their friends, and teach me the difference between Fulakunda Pulaar and Pulla Futa Pulaar, which is apparently vast. The kids are great and it's cool to watch them becoming socialized. For example, Alpha and Moutarou are just learning how to eat at the communal bowl. Normally people eat with their right hand and have their left hand on the bowl, but Alpha always forgets and his left hand is in everyone's way when we're trying to eat, and he's always getting yelled at. They also like to stand up and announce they are full a lot, walk away for a bit, play, and then come back and claim they were never full and absolutely must eat some more. Sometimes this happens once, sometimes lot's of times, and every time their mothers get very upset and and yell at them.
So what is my daily life like? I sit around a lot. I (try to) talk to people. I watch my moms cook and drink tea. I visit other compounds and try to make friends. My main strategy has been to break out into random dancing and I think it's been pretty successful. Now anytime anyone sees me they tell me to dance and I'm obliged to comply. Not that it'll be a surprise to anyone, but everyone says I'm really good at dancing. I also attend Pulaar School quite a bit. An NGO in the area,Totstan, has programs running in about a dozen villages around Kolda that simultaneously teaches adults (almost all of the students are women- my counterpart signed up for the class just to be involved and sometimes the chief will come watch) how to read Pulaar and live healthier lifestyles. This specific class is focused on taking care of children and has talked about nutrition, sanitation, the importance of ALL children to go to school as long as possible. Totstan has also discussed touchier subjects in the past, such as female genital mutilation (FGM), and I think they've done a great job getting people to think critically about these issues. Not only that, but a lot of the women (most if not all didn't go to school long enough to learn how to read) are slowly but surely learning how to read and finding pride and enjoyment in their accomplishments! For the first couple weeks, without fail, my moms would want to read their Pulaar books with me before we all went to sleep. Women who are taking the class will ask me to sit with them while they read and help them through any difficulties. Another great aspect is that the women with older children let their kids read too. Although I'm sure it's not intentional, these family meetings inspire a love of learning in the kids. When they see thier moms doing something, they also want to do it. I've even seen the dads reading the books. Needless to say, I think Totstan is wonderful and I cannot wait for it to start again once Ramadan is over.
There are also meetings to go to. Sanankoro has a women's group who is currently collecting money to save for later. Right now people tend to have a little bit more money than usual because they've harvested and sold their crops, but come the cold season (aka starving season) there's less money to go around. So this group collects money throughout the plentiful times, puts it in the bank and withdraws it again when it is needed.
Workwise I've done a couple of things. I went on two vaccination tournees, which involves me, the health relais (essentially a volunteer health worker in the village), and the ICP (equivalent to an American nurse training wise, but since doctors are sparse in the rural areas they run the health centers and are a really big deal) going compound to compound giving polio vaccinations to children under the age of 6, as well as vitamin supplements. This was a semi traumatic experience for several reasons: 1. Children think they're getting shots, and they immediately start bawling, making it harder to get to their mouths and have them swallow all of these wonderful gifts, and 2. It's hot. On top of this I had my first serious toubab moment. For those of you who don't remember, toubab is word Senegalese people have for Westerners. The response to this generalization varies from person to person, but it's starting to grate on me. Generally they don't mean it maliciously, and are just really really really really excited to see a white person (although it does apply to other races and Senegalese people who are too "Western" as well). Well, I enter a compound on the vaccination tournee and make eye contact with this little boy, who is probably around 3. I see his face immediately drop and terror ignite in his eyes as he desperately starting clawing at his mother for safety. He was inconsolable. I couldn't go near him because he was so scared and after he got his vaccination his mother took him into a hut so he couldn't see me. Silly toubab, scaring all the children. Meanwhile his brother and sisters were laughing hysterically and trying to get me to go near him.
Aside from tournees I have my scholarship program going on! I'm still working on home visits but I'll wrap that up in a couple weeks. We were able to nominate six girls to receive inscription fees for the next school year! There were nine spots availalbe but an insufficient number of girls with qualifying grades. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED! Because we have less girls than we thought, we have already met the quota! Any overage will go to another volunteer's program since it's Peace Corps Senegal wide, which is just as great since girls will get the opportunity to learn!
I also attended a relais training with my counterpart, which was great because I got to meet a bunch of health workers in the area. Relais are volunteer community health workers and great PC work partners It was 4 days worth of walking 7km there and back, and everyone was astounded that my counterpart and I walked. I just told them it was good for our health. After the training was over we held a baby weighing to gauge malnutrition in the area and I'm happy to report that we had no severe cases and only two borderline cases. That's a great foundation for my work and I can't wait to see a bunch of fat little babies.
Next week I will be having language seminar at a fellow volunteer's site, and then it's off to beautiful Kedagou to celebrate the 4th of July with the Peace Corps fam! Looking forward to meeting the other volunteer's and seeing my stage mates again!
Ajaraama!
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
My first project!
I have been at site for a week now and have decided to start my first project and also beg for money for the first time! Peace Corps Senegal has a scholarship program for girls in middle school and I am beginning to take steps to give it out in my village. This will cover 9 girls inscription fees as well as supply the materials they will need for the upcoming school year. It is given out based on need and targeted towards girls whose educations are not fully supported by their families.
Why middle school, you might be asking? In Senegal, especially rurally, girls are not always encouraged to go to school and continue their education. Many girls drop out around middle school in order to get married and have kids. PC feels that giving scholarship to these girls will encourage them to continue their education and tell their parents how important it is to them to go to school.
SO WHAT CAN YOU DO TO HELP????
This Scholarship will ideally be funded by family and friends. I only need $180 to fund an entire year of school for 9 girls.
All donations throughout the year are to be directed to the Peace Corps Senegal country fund,
accessible online through the Peace Corps website.
In the “comments” section of the donation page:
“This donation is to support MSS scholarships in PCV Kimberly Boland’s village of Santankoro.
Note: If donors do not make this designation including my name in the comments section, PC
will not be able to designate the funds for my school.
Here is the link for the Peace Corps Senegal country fund:
https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-CFD
Thank you in advance!!!!! AKA Ajarama!
Why middle school, you might be asking? In Senegal, especially rurally, girls are not always encouraged to go to school and continue their education. Many girls drop out around middle school in order to get married and have kids. PC feels that giving scholarship to these girls will encourage them to continue their education and tell their parents how important it is to them to go to school.
SO WHAT CAN YOU DO TO HELP????
This Scholarship will ideally be funded by family and friends. I only need $180 to fund an entire year of school for 9 girls.
All donations throughout the year are to be directed to the Peace Corps Senegal country fund,
accessible online through the Peace Corps website.
In the “comments” section of the donation page:
“This donation is to support MSS scholarships in PCV Kimberly Boland’s village of Santankoro.
Note: If donors do not make this designation including my name in the comments section, PC
will not be able to designate the funds for my school.
Here is the link for the Peace Corps Senegal country fund:
https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-CFD
Thank you in advance!!!!! AKA Ajarama!
Monday, May 13, 2013
Address!
My new, permenant address is: PCV Kimberly Boland, Corps de la Paix, B.P. 26, Kolda, Senegal
Things I could need/want:
Food- the diabetic in me wants candy but the health volunteer wants food with protein and vitamins; if you do send food remember it's really hot out and mail usually takes about a month or two to get all the way down to Kolda
Drink packets- bleached water is horrible; i really like berries (especially strawberries) and really hate grapefruit
magazines, preferably ones dealing with current events
Pictures! Everyone so far has loved to see the pictures I've brought!
Letters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Letters make my day
Right now I will be attempting to do the Five Week Challenge. When new volunteers get to site it is helpful for language and integration if they do not leave. I think I can do it, but it means five consecutive weeks without running water or electricity.
On the up side look how cute my cat is
Things I could need/want:
Food- the diabetic in me wants candy but the health volunteer wants food with protein and vitamins; if you do send food remember it's really hot out and mail usually takes about a month or two to get all the way down to Kolda
Drink packets- bleached water is horrible; i really like berries (especially strawberries) and really hate grapefruit
magazines, preferably ones dealing with current events
Pictures! Everyone so far has loved to see the pictures I've brought!
Letters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Letters make my day
Right now I will be attempting to do the Five Week Challenge. When new volunteers get to site it is helpful for language and integration if they do not leave. I think I can do it, but it means five consecutive weeks without running water or electricity.
On the up side look how cute my cat is
Sunday, May 12, 2013
End of CBT, Swear In, Kolda, etc
I am currently sitting at the Kolda regional house as a newly sworn in volunteer! The end of CBT was pretty emotional. I got pretty close with my family and I think they liked me. When we were thanking them I started to cry, and then my mom, grandmother, sisters, and dad started to cry too (Senegalese people don't cry- even when a child is crying they are vehemently discouraged). So this continued all day; as I was packing up my room my sisters were just crying on my bed watching me do my thing. I bought them some chickens as a thank you and they bought pasta and SALAD and soda for treats. It was really awesome, one of the best meals I ate there. My neene divided the bowl just like I did when I made American dinner for me and my language class but everyone else's bowls had salad on the bottom, then spaghetti, then the sauce with the bread to be used as a utensil of sorts. Fanta was absolutely the best way to end the experience since it has been sort of a lifeline for me. Why I never knew about Fanta before I came to Senegal will forever be a mystery to be and one of my life's biggest regrets. But in all seriousness my CBT family was amazing and I am so grateful for all of their patience while I adapted and learned the language.
So after lot's of tears it was back to the training center and in the morning we took our Language Proficiency Test. I passed, and the next couple days we had random sessions like bike distribution. Friday morning all of the PCTs donned their fanciest Senegalese clothing to make the trek to the US ambassador's house in Dakar for swear in. It was a really nice ceremony and little bit bigger than usual since this year is the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps in Senegal. We had Etienne Senghor, our Training Manager, speak, as well as the ambassador, who had us say the oath, and a PCT from each language group (Wolof, Pulaar, Sereer, and Jaxhanke) gave a speech thanking everyone and summing up PST a little bit. Then they called all of our names and gave us a certificate as well as our new official Volunteer ID card. Then we got so much food and we were all really happy. So much wonderful food. There was cheese.
Saturday we had off to rest, pack, and buy things in the market, and this morning we all loaded up the cars at 6am for our respective journeys. The Kolda trek took about 12 hours altogether but wasn't as bad as it could be since we only had 3 people and all of our stuff and my beautiful kitty.
Ajaramma!
 |
| Me and all of the children |
 |
| Me with my Babaa and Nenee and some neighbors |
So after lot's of tears it was back to the training center and in the morning we took our Language Proficiency Test. I passed, and the next couple days we had random sessions like bike distribution. Friday morning all of the PCTs donned their fanciest Senegalese clothing to make the trek to the US ambassador's house in Dakar for swear in. It was a really nice ceremony and little bit bigger than usual since this year is the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps in Senegal. We had Etienne Senghor, our Training Manager, speak, as well as the ambassador, who had us say the oath, and a PCT from each language group (Wolof, Pulaar, Sereer, and Jaxhanke) gave a speech thanking everyone and summing up PST a little bit. Then they called all of our names and gave us a certificate as well as our new official Volunteer ID card. Then we got so much food and we were all really happy. So much wonderful food. There was cheese.
 |
| March 2013! |
Saturday we had off to rest, pack, and buy things in the market, and this morning we all loaded up the cars at 6am for our respective journeys. The Kolda trek took about 12 hours altogether but wasn't as bad as it could be since we only had 3 people and all of our stuff and my beautiful kitty.
Ajaramma!
Thursday, April 25, 2013
MALARIA
I'm going to take some time and talk about how horrible malaria is and how preventable it is to eradicate. Malaria is the #1 killer of children and pregnant women in Africa. It's completely preventable because the virus is passed through only a certain type of pregnant female mosquito and it is not a long living virus. If we can stop the spread and let the disease die, it will no longer be an epidemic. This has already been accomplished in the USA.
The governments and NGOs in Senegal are currently doing a great job battling malaria. There has been a widespread distribution of mosquito nets as well as malaria medication. The medication for malaria is extremely subsidized and widely available at health huts and post de santes. Transportation is often a problem, however, especially in the bush. People also tend to wait to see if it will pass, which makes them sicker and the medication becomes more expensive.
So, you ask, what is the Peace Corps doing to help stop this horrible horrible disease? One of the most basic things we can do are net tournees, in which we educate on the importance of using mosquito nets and how to take care of them (ie sewing up holes, how to wash them without ruining the chemicals, where to dry them). we also talk about the importance of early treatment; not only for monetary reasons but health reasons as well.
As trainees we do not have the resources or language skills to fully communicate, but my language class was able to do a mini net tournee with our training families. Here are some pics!!!
The governments and NGOs in Senegal are currently doing a great job battling malaria. There has been a widespread distribution of mosquito nets as well as malaria medication. The medication for malaria is extremely subsidized and widely available at health huts and post de santes. Transportation is often a problem, however, especially in the bush. People also tend to wait to see if it will pass, which makes them sicker and the medication becomes more expensive.
So, you ask, what is the Peace Corps doing to help stop this horrible horrible disease? One of the most basic things we can do are net tournees, in which we educate on the importance of using mosquito nets and how to take care of them (ie sewing up holes, how to wash them without ruining the chemicals, where to dry them). we also talk about the importance of early treatment; not only for monetary reasons but health reasons as well.
As trainees we do not have the resources or language skills to fully communicate, but my language class was able to do a mini net tournee with our training families. Here are some pics!!!
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