Teaching Russian in Wolof (Nov 30, 2013)

The past two and a half days we Peace Corps trainees hosted the 'Counterpart Workshop' at the Training Center.  Each Peace Corps Volunteer has at least one local national they work closely with, known as their local counterpart.  So we essentially hosted over a hundred Senegalese men and women who would be working with us.  The two and a half days held sessions about the Peace Corps' mission, how the different projects would be working together, and cross-cultural work.  It was a weekend of constantly trying to keep track of over two hundred people as well as many, many awkward moments.   

Many of us trainees experienced these awkward moments with our future counterparts.  We've been learning the languages for the past seven weeks, but that by no means indicates that we are able to communicate well with strangers.  Although I'd met my counterpart several weeks ago when I visited my future site, I renewed our relationship with quite the awkward moment.  First, I missed when my counterpart arrived.  In my defense, counterparts were arriving in a ten-hour window so it was a long time to sit in the sun and wait for someone to arrive.  I was sitting inside with some friends when my counterpart walked in looking for some water.  Once I realized who he was, I had to come forward somewhat awkwardly and say hello.  And how is your family?  And how was the travel?  And are you in peace?  And then he responded with a very thick bush accent that I couldn't understand.  To give some perspective, imagine you are learning English for the first time and you've been studying in the American Midwest, then someone with a British, or New England, or Texan accent tries to speak to you.  The difference an accent can make is astounding!  So, it felt like the past seven weeks I actually hadn't learned much of the language.

This awkwardness continued when we were supposed to take our counterparts on tour of the Training Center the next day and show them some of the techniques we were using.  First of all, the agricultural counterparts are experienced farmers who know a lot more about Senegalese ag techniques than I do (I'll be learning more in February during my second bout of training).  Secondly, I don't have the language skills to really explain drip line irrigation quite yet.  So I walked him around the center saying, 'this is lettuce' or 'this is a mango tree' or 'look at all this compost!'  I was pretty proud of myself when I was able to comment on the fact that the vegetable nurseries had been dug by us stagiers, amended with compost, ash, and charcoal, and the nurseries in the shade were doing much better than those in the sun.  (Quite the long sentiment to express in Wolof!)  My biggest failure though was when I tried to explain aloe vera- I said the sun was bad for my skin, and then the aloe was good for it... there were a lot of hand gestures involved.    

The classes we attended were fascinating from an organizational point of view.  At times, classes had to be divided based on the sector of service (agriculture, agro-forestry, or Economic development) while at times they were divided by language (Wolof, Mandinka, Pulafounta, or Pular).  Those that were divided by language only had to be translated once, like from Wolof to English for us trainees, but those classes divided by sector had to be translated into upwards of four languages.  If anyone ever wants to claim that colonialists were right and Western Africans aren't smart, they should sit through a class where over half the individuals are speaking three or more languages!  From a political point of view, it is easy to see the challenges that arise from a multilingual country.  A two day conference was headache enough, organizing policy would be extremely challenging and I can see why French is used as the national language, though it separates policy making from the majority of citizens.  (A debate I'm sure I'll continue to have with myself over the next two years.)

One of the classes we had was about the difficulties of language learning and working in a different language.  One of our language instructors facilitated the class, asking our counterparts how long they thought it would take us to learn our languages.  Some wonderful comments were brought up, such as how different accents would be difficult to learn and that our host communities should help us learn.  Then they started debating whether it would take several months or  just a couple of weeks to learn Wolof.  The final consensus of the new counterparts was that we should be pretty fluent in Wolof after two weeks at our permanent sites.  TWO WEEKS?!?!?! 

Thankfully, we had a little activity to show them the difficulties of language learning.  All the language classes had one trainee teaching a foreign language for ten minutes.  Friends of mine taught Korean to the Pulars, Vietnamese to the Mankinkas and Pulafuntas, and I taught Russian to four Senegalese Wolof speakers.  In our ten minute lesson, I taught them to say the responses to the following:

Hello

Hello

How are you?

I'm fine.

What is your name?

My name is ______.

Where are you from?

I live in Senegal.

As instructed by my language teachers, I began the class speaking only in Russian.  After spewing about 30 seconds of my credentials and why I was teaching them this language (in Russian), they all were staring at me in horror and confusion as they didn't understand a single sound that came out of my mouth.  And the entire class laughed at them.  We spend the next ten minutes working on pronunciation, having the entire class (or 4 students) and the individuals repeat the words over and over.  One woman had obviously learned languages before and was picking it up very quickly.  Whenever she would say something correctly, the larger class would clap.  Whenever anyone got anything wrong, the larger class would laugh.  At one point, I saw sweat absolutely running down the face of one of my male students, but my language teachers told me to continue to teach and not try and comfort him.  By the time we ended the class, my brain was hurting pretty bad from thinking in English, teaching Russian, and speaking Wolof. 

The ten minutes were pretty funny, and I ended it by mixing some Wolof in with the Russian so that everyone laughed.  When my 'students' were allowed to return to their seats, we had comments about how language learning actually was difficult.  Some of my favorite comments were as follows;

"How do you ask what a word means when you don't understand the other words in the language?"

"When everyone laughs, it makes it harder for me to learn. "  (Which brought on a whole discussion about how Senegalese culture involves lots of laughing and we've been laughed at a lot, and how to limit laughing at us.)

"I was only sitting there for ten minutes and sweat through my shirt, I don't know how you have done this for seven weeks!"

So all in all, it was a great tool to show that, in fact, a language cannot be learned in two weeks.  Learning languages is hard and takes a long time.  Speaking of which, I have my final language exam on Monday so I'd better sign off and start stu

Miscommunication Station (Nov 18, 2013)

Having just finished the long sixteen-day visit to my host community, I'm forced to look back on how I feel about Kerr Sadaro and my experiences.  My host family and people I have interacted with are the most patient people I have ever met, always willing to help me with language.  As I've grown more comfortable with them, and my language classes have continued, I've been communicating more and more.  Sometimes my attempts at communication are successful... and sometimes not. 

Faux-pas #1: After a long day at a wedding, which included hours of gussying up with the other women in my family, I saw my aunt was looking tired.  When I attempted to ask, "Are you tired?" (Danga soon?) I instead said "You look funny" (Danga relu). 

Faux-pas #2:  We learned the words for "bless you" and "difficult" on the same day in class.  Thinking I'd mastered them, I started saying "bless you" when people sneezed.  Actually, it turns out I was saying "difficult" when people sneezed.  Which I guess is accurate, sneezing is... ACHOO... difficult.

Faux-pas #3: After a wedding, the bride will sometimes return to the house she grew up in and take ceremonial pictures with them.  A few days after my sister's wedding, I spotted her walking by the house in her finest garb.  My mother told me that after I finished my garden work, I needed to shower and then take a picture with my family.  I finished my garden work, grabbed my materials for the shower, and stopped to confirm with my mom.  "Tay?  Apres sangu?  Photo?"  (Today, after I shower, a photo?) I kept repeating, sticking to nouns as I didn't trust my shaky grammar to get the point across.  My mom confirmed that yes, today, after I showered, I needed to put on a specific skirt, a specific shirt, brush my hair, and take a picture with my sister. 

So I showered.  I put on the shirt.  I put on the skirt.  When I came out of my room with my hair and make-up done, my entire family was staring at me.  Nighttime is the time for comfy clothes, so when I came out with my finest garb I caused quite a stir.  My sister told me that my clothes looked very pretty, and my brother asked why I was wearing my fancy clothes. Looking around at everyone, including my mother, lounging about I answered, "I don't know."  They all exchanged looks of 'crazy American, what is she doing?'  So I sat there all night, and we never took a picture. 

There were several other faux-pas, but I have had some successes as well!  I am able to joke, play, get my most essential needs across.  My brothers like teasing me, and this is an example of me being able to respond. 

My joking younger brother: "Seneba, get me water."

Me: "Ummm... no."

Brother: "Seneba, I'm thirsty.  Get me water."

Me: "Do you have two legs?"

Brother: "Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

Me: "Yes, but do you have two legs?"

Brother: "Yes?"

Me: "Do you have two arms?"

Brother: "Yes."

Me:  "Do your legs and arms work?"

Brother, accompanied with eye-rolling: "Yes, Seneba."

Me:  "Demal jelal sa bopp ndox!" (Then go get your own water!)

Followed by laughing by all brothers present and my family repeating the story all day. 

End scene.     

Volunteer Visit (29 Oct 2013)

This past week has been quite exciting for all of us trainees as we found out our permanent sites and visited the Peace Corps Volunteers who we'll be replacing.  After a long day of classes at the training center, all of us trainees gathered around the basketball court which has the map of Senegal painted on it.  Staff members blindfolded us and then led us to the place on the map that corresponded with our permanent site.  Standing with my friends at the edge of the court, I could barely contain my excitement to find out where I'd be living for the next two years and which of my friends would be my neighbors.  Staff members led more and more of my friends away until I was one of the last trainees standing beside the court.  Finally, Youssafa took my hand and turned me in circles until I wasn't sure where I was on the map.  Since I'm learning the language most common in Senegal, I could have been placed almost anywhere in the country and the suspense was killing me.  After Youssafa told me to stop and handed me my packet with the information about my site, I stood there feeling around for who might be near me.  Several of my friends were close to me, and we joined the chorus of excited voices as we tried to guess where we were standing on the map.   After an excruciatingly long wait, we counted down and tore off our blindfolds. 

I'm going to be spending the next two years in a village of 120 people (50 of which are adults) close to the regional borders of Kaffrine and Tamba, and very close the Gambian border.  I'll also be working with 2-3 surrounding villages that are about the same size.  The volunteer that I'm replacing lived in one of the other villages, so I'll be starting a new site! 

A couple of days after finding out about our sites, we trainees were packed into Peace Corps vehicles and driven across the country to visit our future homes.  Those of us serving in the Kaffrine region were dropped off at our regional house and met the other volunteers who are going to be our neighbors and closest friends for the rest of our time here.  An interesting aspect about Peace Corps is that there volunteers around the country do not come in at the same time, but come in two waves a year.  This meant that people I met this weekend either were leaving, would be leaving in 6 months, had been here for a little under a year, or had just arrived six months ago.  Our new friends were so excited to meet us that they cooked an American meal of flatbread pizza, peanut butter banana bread, and fruit salad. 

After our lunch together, those of us living near one another on the outskirts of Kaffrine shared a sept-place back to our 'road-town.'  Since so many of us live in the bush, we all have what is called a 'road town,' or a town that is on paved roads and has transportation.  Luckily, one of my new neighbors lives only 5K from our road town and we were able to spend the night at her place.  After the drive, a stop at the post office, and a tour of my neighbor's hut, we went in search of dinner.  Although I live in the bush, at least a day's journey away from internet, I have the perk of excellent bean sandwiches.  For dinner, I experienced my first bean, cassava, and onion sandwich on fresh, dense baguettes. It was excellent!   

Toting our sandwiches wrapped in newspaper, the five of us (my three neighbors, the volunteer I'm replacing, and I) sat on the floor to start our feast.  After wolfing down enormous sandwiches, we ate the melted chocolate bars I had brought as gifts off the wrappers with spoons.  It was a great evening of chatting, tons of questions from me, and good food.  I personally think that chocolate bars are better when melted and eaten with a spoon.

The next day, my volunteer took me to the garage in my road town to get a ride to our villages.  We told the man in charge where we wanted to go, he sold us tickets to a truck that had wooden benches in the back and a rack on top to hold our bags, and told us to wait until all the seats had been bought and we could leave.  My volunteer told me that we would probably be in for a long wait, and that this would be routine for me.  Four hours later, we still had not left.  We've all waited for things before, but have you ever waited sitting under a small shade structure on hot asphalt with the African sun beating down, with nothing to occupy your time, and you sticking out like a sore thumb?  Well, now I can say that I have... and I'll be doing it regularly.  We finally piled into the truck and I watched the beautiful scenery flash by.  It's the end of the rainy season, so my future home was still green.  Green grasses that came up over my head, green crops being harvested in the fields, and green trees.  Shade trees, palm trees, and (my personal favorite) baobab trees.  By the time I move here in a month, the world will be pretty yellow and desolate, but give it another year and the green will return!  (Or so I've been told.) 

I spent the next couple of days being shown the villages I'll be working with and the community I'll be living in.  There is so much to tell, but thankfully, I'll have two years to learn and communicate more specifics.  Some of the areas that we visited that I've already started thinking of projects for are the regional school, local women's' gardens, and regional health hut.   One of the highlights of my visit was meeting my host community.  Within minutes of my arrival, a village meeting was called and all 120 people (or just about all of them) gathered around to meet me.  My host father gave me my new name, Yassine Ndjaye (pronounced 'Njie').  A Peace Corps regional official came to the meeting and told my host community about how I was going to be different since I was an American, what my job would be, and how they could help me be a part of the community.  It was touching to see how excited these people were to have me there and they all promised to welcome me whole-heartedly into the community. 

Transportation was the theme of my trip, and it continued to be an adventure my last morning.  To catch a Peace Corps bus that was coming through my road town that morning, my volunteer and I caught a local charette that was heading in the direction we were headed.  A charette is a flat cart drawn by horse or donkey.  You sit sideways on it and rest your feet on the side board.  It was about as picturesque as it could get, being slowly pulled along a dirt track from thatch-roofed village to thatch-roofed village while watching the sun rise.  I was soaking up the new landscape, sounds and smells when suddenly a rain storm hit... and I swear I soaked up half the rains in Africa.  Since the sun hadn't risen yet, the cold rains deeply chilled my volunteer and I.  After riding in the rain for about an hour, we stopped at the first village we came to and waited out the storm under a tin-roofed boutique.  I was worried that the roads were so rain-soaked that we wouldn't be able to continue, but our horse persevered and we arrived in our road town completely soaked.  I'm learning the lessons of Senegalese transportation pretty quickly, so I wasn't surprised that the Peace Corps bus I was hopping on (definitely one of the fastest methods of transportation in the country) was delayed by six hours.  So my volunteer and I explored the market (where I bought fresh peanut butter- one of the perks of living in the Peanut Basin), stopped at the post office, and ran errands in soaking wet clothes.  At the time, it didn't seem all that exciting, in fact, it felt pretty miserable.  But it makes for a pretty good story and I can say that I've lived through my first African adventure! 

Baptisms, Tabaski, and Weddings… Oh My! (20 Oct 2013)

If you’re reading this, it means that I was finally able to get internet at the Training Center in Thies and was able to upload both of my latest blog posts.  Since internet is so rare and time at the Training Center is much better served by hanging out with friends or going to the market, my friends and I have decided to type up our blog posts during the slow hours at our host communities.  I’m currently sitting in my friend Emelie’s room, typing and sweating.  Sweating may become my new talent; I could almost win awards for how much I sweat these days.  I wake up glistening and it only gets better from there! 

I am coming to the end of a 10-day stint in my host community, and I am worlds away from the borderline depression I felt after my first home stay.  At this point, I’m picking up language so quickly that I am able to communicate not like a 3 year old, but at the same level as my 5 year old sister.  Small steps, but I think that two years of language acquisition in two weeks is pretty darn good!  I’ve also integrated much more into my host community and family, so I feel like I’m a part on everything that goes on in this village.  My integration came at the best time since this week we had three big celebrations- a baptism, Tabaski, and a wedding. 

BAPTISM

Baptisms in Senegal are a village-wide affair with mounds of food, fancy clothes, and musicians and dancing.  A fellow Peace Corps Trainee’s family had a baptism last weekend and all the Peace Corps Trainees were invited.  After being gussied up in my ‘fancy outfit’ (more about that later), I was sent across the street with my friends to greet the baptismal family and eat.  We had some wonderful (bouillie) yogurt and grain mixture that was deliciously filling, probably just because it was something different in our diets).  The entire village was there, as well as another 80-100 people that we’d never met before.  All the older men were dressed in their religious outfits and sitting together under one tree.  The hostess and all the visiting younger women sat together under another tree (where we were plopped down as well), looking like a flock of brightly colored birds with their festive clothing. More women were sitting near the cooking area, and then there were ten women cooking in the back of the compound.  It was such a sight to see enormous pots over open flame tended by women in their bright clothes.  How they didn’t topple over from the combined heat of the day and the fire is beyond me, I was barely able to stay upright in my plastic chair (a spot of great importance) in the shade!

We’d heard rumors of dancing later that evening, but it was still early afternoon and we had exhausted our language skills and were more than a little drained from being introduced to over 100 people… so we escaped to another Peace Corps Trainee’s room.  We bought a liter of Fanta and sat in the sweltering heat, away from the curious eyes of all the visitors, with our skirts pulled up above our knees.  How scandalous! 

When hiding out in our friend's room, we 'accidentally' missed the highlight of the event- dancing to the drums.  Our host sisters started teasing us about not making it to such an important cultural event, but little did we know that it was just the beginning of trend for the week.

Kerr Sadaro events: 1

Erin's attendance: 0   

TABASKI

Tabaski was also this week.  A universal Muslim celebration (though it’s called different names in different countries), the entire country took Wednesday and Thursday off to celebrate and preparations started days before.  One of the requirements for the holiday is the killing of rams; so the city streets, cars, and family compounds were filled with the bleating of rams on the days leading up to Tabaski, and then suddenly the entire population was gone.  I didn't help with the slaughtering of the rams (typically a man's job), but many of my friends did. 

The women also spent an entire week preparing for the festivities.  My sisters went to Thies multiple times for fake nails and fancy hairdos with fake hair.  The hairstyles ranged according to age; younger girls had tight corn-rows and older women had cornrows with extensions to make long, natural-looking braids or fake hair added and fluffed up into styles reminiscent of the 1980s.  An interesting side note, wealth distribution could be publically observed based on the quality and quantity of hair extensions.  Girls that could only afford a few extensions had unnatural, amateurish styles.  Those with more money looked to be natural long-haired beauties.  My family was obsessed with braiding my hair, and it became a family affair.  Luckily, one of my host sisters is the best hair-braider in the village and I was sat down by her and several other sisters for a multi-hour ordeal.  At one point, three pairs of hands were braiding my short locks into tight braids... and it still took over five hours.  When finished, my host family looked slightly baffled that my hairdo, which looked so good on them, looked horrendous on me.  But, I was not allowed to take the braids out for over a week so the entire village was able to see how 'toubab' hair does not lend itself well to Senegalese style.  

Once the food was bought and all of us ladies gussied up, we started the day of cooking, eating, and celebrating.  The women of my host family sat me down in their circle and we started food preparation, in a sense much different from any of the cooking I've done in the United States.  Even the more affluent rural families (such as my host family) cook in a detached building over a wood fire, without electricity, counters, sharp utensils, etc.  For the Tabaski feast, I took turns pounding the pepper balls into dust in an enormous mortar and pestle.  When my family realized that I could actually do this simple task, I was upgraded to peeling onions and potatoes.  When it became obvious that I could do this well, they tried to upgrade me to dicing onions.  While I'm very good at this in the United States, I've not practiced chopping onions while holding them in my hands.  After a valiant, though flailing attempt, my family realized my limitations and I was demoted to peeling onions once more.      

The meals we ate on Tabaski (and the next five days) were variations of fresh (and later not so fresh) sheep, onions, and potatoes.  On Tabaski, it was also tradition to drink pop or cold fizzy drinks with the fancy lunch.  When I visited families throughout the rest of the day, I was handed cups of Fanta in the families' best glassware.  The rest of the afternoon was devoted to dishes and making tea.

That evening, we all got gussied up and went house to house.  The adults chatted with one another, and the children did a version of trick-or-treating, where they would come up to us in their freshly braided hair and best clothes to receive small change or hard candies. 

To continue with the theme of missing cultural events, another dance was held that night.  Our host families desperately wanted us to go, telling us that the dancing would happen 'just a little later' that night.  We should have caught on when our families asked if we wanted to take some naps before the party.  All excited from the pop, evening of being dressed up, and all the new sights, we naively responded that we wouldn't nap but would spend the evening resting with another host family that had a television.  After hours of Chinese martial arts movies dubbed into French, we decided the party must have been cancelled.   Storm clouds were threatening overhead and it was 11:30, the latest we had stayed up in a long time!  After crawling into bed, I was woken by the start of the drums at 12:30.  Another event missed!

Kerr Sadaro cultural events: 2

Erin: 0

WEDDING

One of my older host sisters was marrying a man from the village next door the day after Tabaski.  She had invited me the day before, and I was excited to actually make a village event.  The entire day, my sister got gussied up, people I didn't know came and went, extra food was served (there were actually 4 different lunches that day), and people kept getting in and out of cars. 

I decided my best plan of action was to stay close to my host parents since they would tell me when to get dressed and when to leave for the wedding.  More and more people piled into cars while others got out at our house.  Before I knew it, it was dinner time and all my younger sisters were returning from the wedding!  One of them asked me why I didn't go and I told her that I hadn't known when it was and no one had told me when to go.  I continued that I'd stayed close to my host parents; sure they would tell me what action to take.  My teenage sister responded that parents of the bride sometimes don't actually go to the wedding!  Augh!  Another event missed!

Kerr Sadaro cultural events: 3

Erin: 0

SOCCER

As school was starting up the Monday after Tabaski, all the village soccer teams were finishing their season with championship games.  Luckily, Kerr Sadaro has two 'fields' or dirt with makeshift goals, so several games were held near us.  The group of us Peace Corps Trainees happened upon one game and it was simultaneously familiar to sporting events in the U.S. and outstandingly different.  The field was deep sand without clearly marked sidelines, so occasionally players would run headlong into the spectators standing along the sides (there were no stands to sit in) or into the adjoining house after a stray ball.  The teenage girls stood in one crowded area, wearing the fancy new clothes made for Tabaski and waving jerseys of the teams they supported.  As the players ferociously played, the girls danced traditional African danced to alternating Senegalese and American blaring music. 

All of us loved watching the spectacle (and a spectacle it truly was) and promised to find out when our village's final game was.  Hampered by our limited language skills, we didn't learn that our game was the next day... during the time we had our evening language class.  After returning from class, my 20 and 22 year old brothers were changing from their sweat-soaked soccer jerseys and demanded where I'd been.  They'd had so many great plays, it was the end of the season, and I hadn't been there!?!? 

Kerr Sadaro events: 4

Erin: 0

To top this off, there was another dance party (the last during the break before school started) and my brothers were adamant that I make this one.  As it was the night before our language exam, my fellow Peace Corps friends and I stayed up until almost midnight studying and waiting for the darn party.  Finally giving up on the situation, we called it a night and went to bed.  Sure enough, at 1am the party started and I missed that one too!

Kerr Sadaro events: 5

Erin: 0

Wish me luck on making any future events, I don't seem to have too good of a track record! 

         

Immersion (9 Oct 2013)

       My apologies on not starting this blog earlier, but my first week in Senegal was insanely busy with classes and living with over seventy other Peace Corps Trainees and Volunteers in the training center, and
I spent my last week in my host village where there’s barely electricity and no internet.  As those I’ve been in contact with know, the training center-week was a whirlwind of classes, introductions, new people and I loved every second of it.  One would think that having almost every second planned out and no time to yourself would lead to resentment, but I’ve bonded more quickly with this group than anyone else before.  Being thrown together and continually pushing our boundaries leads to fast bonding!  A prime example of this was that I’ve begun cutting my fellow trainees’ hair (a skill I didn’t even know that I had!), perhaps I’ve inadvertently found a fall back career if my current plans don’t work out!
        After our initial week of training, we trainees were split into language classes and each class was sent to a host community to learn our languages the right way- through total immersion.

KERR SADARO

My host village, Kerr Sadaro, is a small collection of farmers situated on either side of one of the nicest paved roads I've seen in Senegal.  The population is probably under 400 people, with children comprising of 60%-70% of the population.  Families live in compounds, a collection of 2-5 buildings surrounded by a wall with animals in pens or roaming and children constantly underfoot.  My family's compound has two finished buildings, a whole set of unfinished buildings (which seems to be fairly frequent in the areas I've seen), a pen for the horse and sheep to stay in at night, two donkeys that hang out behind the house, chickens and turkeys always underfoot, an outhouse with a Turkish toilet, a three sided outdoor bathing area where I've learned to very much enjoy my showers under the stars, a kitchen hut, a dirt courtyard, and a front yard area with a concrete bench and two large trees that provide wonderful shade on the terribly hot days.  My family's compound is next door to the mosque, so I've begun to rely on the calls to prayer to keep track of time. 

                My first introduction to Kerr Sadaro was a mixture of incredibly welcoming and incredibly awkward.  After stepping out of the Peace Corps Land Rover, a swarm of children and women surrounded us.  One lady took my hand, gave my cumbersome water filter to one of the many children, took my hand, and led me home.  Once I dropped my backpack off in my new room, I was plopped down in a plastic chair with my new family sitting all around me.  My host father, a very kind man with a round face, introduced me to everyone in the family and told me that my Senegalese name is "Seneba Thiow."  It was a difficult afternoon (well, the first three days were actually difficult) as I only spoke three phrases in Wolof.  After exhausting the topic of "Peace be with you," "My name is...," and "I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer" I sat in silence with the family jabbering at and around me.  One of the many observations I made during that first afternoon is that last names are important.  Everytime anyone was introduced to me, the last name was stressed and when I repeated my new name as just "Seneba" the family would start chirping "Thiow,Thiow, Thiow" until I repeated that as well. 

IMMERSION DEPRESSION

                The first three days were the most difficult I've ever experienced for three reasons. 

1) I hadn't had time to be homesick since arriving as my time had been filled with classes and new friends.  But as I found myself sitting for hours on end in a strange new place with literally nothing to do but to listen to the language... I realized that I was missing my friends and family far more than I would have imagined possible.  It hit me how hard it is going to be to live in an area with little communication (though I can always receive phone calls from the states, so CALL me!) from the people I care about for two years.  I'm going to miss a lot of things in my family's life, and it's tough.  On one hand, I think the Peace Corps is incredibly selfless and on the other it is incredibly selfish just in the fact that I packed up and moved across the world with little regard to how it would limit my interaction with family. 

2) While I've lived abroad before, living in a true third-world country was so radically different from even the normal daily tasks that I normally do that I was at a lost how to do simple things.  Like eating.  You sit at a large bowl, use only your right hand, scoop greasy rice into it, ball it into a mushy mash and try to get it in your mouth.  Oh yeah, and you're sitting on the ground and wearing a skirt... so you're supposed to have it arranged a certain way.  And, and, and.  I also wasn't sure how/ where to hand wash my clothes, take a bucket bath, throw out trash (just on the side of the street, in case you were wondering).  In a nutshell, I was making innumerous mistakes and I wasn't able to communicate enough to even know what those mistakes were at first.  Needless to say, I was pretty overwhelmed and began to fantasize about living in an area where I knew how to perform basic functions without even thinking about it. 

3)  With such limited language skills, I was largely unable to communicate my basic questions or figure out what I was doing wrong.  My language has grown exponentially, but I still struggled with feeling like the 2 year old who also had words repeated for her over and over until she repeated them.  My favorite interactions were when my host family would ask me something, I would say I didn't understand, then multiple people would repeat it faster and throw in new words to try to explain.   At one point, I was unable to communicate (aside from gestures and smiles) and thought 'I have a college degree and can speak three languages and yet I can't communicate with you!'   It was unbelievably frustrating and, in a way, belittling.

So I was feeling pretty depressed at first, the culmination of the above factors making me miss home and everyone in it.  I had a lot of down time, so some of you may receive depressed letters that I wrote then.  Luckily, I started to adjust and am starting to integrate into my family and understand more every day.  I still feel sad when thinking about my family, but I'm much happier than I was last Friday!

LANGUAGE LEARNING

I have never learned so much, so quickly in my whole life!  We four students father at my teacher's host family's house.  Plop ourselves under a tree (I've never appreciated the shade of trees until moving to Africa) and struggle through a four hour language class.  At home, the children have taken it upon themselves to teach me Wolof and surround me with new words.  I learned the Wolof version of 'head, shoulders, knees, and toes'- which I perform for almost everyone in the village whenever they stop by.  Over the first four days, all of the children slowly warmed to me (even the angsty teenager) to the extent that we sit in a circle and review what I've learned in class and then my host father quizes me on it that night.  It's Wolof language, all the time.  And it's difficult- my brain feels fried almost all the time.  I guess I can cross that off my bucket list though, I'm officially learning a language the hard/ right way. 

BATTLE STORIES

Let me preface these by stating that I have the best medical team in Peace Corps, so if anything happens to me, they will take wonderful care of me! 

a)  I saw my first scorpion the second night in Kerr Sadaro!

b) Small children in my village cry when they see me and try to rub my skin

c) I've had three blisters from blister beetles (they're healing, don't worry)

d) I've endured heat rash all across my back for the first time from sweating constantly (not only is it hot, but there is no air-conditioning anywhere) 

e) I've survived two small sand storms

f) On the bright side, I've had no sunburn as of yet!

AMUSEMENT IN KERR SADARO

As a Peace Corps Trainee in a small village, my standards for entertainment have drastically reduced.  Television?  Books?  Visiting friends? Music?  I don't any of it!  I've adapted to a new version of amusement. 

A treasured past time for my host family is to spend entire afternoons and evenings sitting under the shade trees in the front yard.  Sprawled on the plastic mats in the sand, one can watch the one road that goes through the village.  Cars drive by at a rate of one per ten minutes during slow hours and two per ten minutes during 'rush hour.'  The most exciting part of this entertainment is that there's a speed bump(!!!) almost directly in front of my house.  Cars, overfilled buses, horse-drawn charettes, runners, and motorcycles actually drive OVER the speed bump.  Variations of this can be my family calling out to the people we know, or waving.  

If you think that speed-bump watching comprises of most of my day and that I shouldn't need any further entertainment, you are (almost) completely correct.  However, I've begun to enjoy working in our demonstration garden for entertainment purposes.  On the stone wall along the fence, anywhere from 10-50 boys will sit there and watch me every time I turn the compost pile.  It's like I have my own personal audience.  We've been convincing the kids to help us, and it's pretty hilarious to see the confusion cross their face when we try to teach them to 'high five.'  It's better than an evening out in NYC!

Even eating can be entertaining!  After several days of Senegalese food, the four of us decided that we'd get together for a coordinated shack time.  We stopped at the one, small store in town and bought a liter sized refrigerated Fanta.  Piling into one of our rooms and sitting on the floor, we passed around a bag of pretzels and took turns sipping from our liter or cold Fanta.  It was (in all actuality), the most entertaining part of the week! The four of us practically swooned from the fizzy, cold drink when we hadn't had anything refrigerated or been in air conditioning in over a week.  Pretzels and Fanta, what else could a girl need?

Another entertaining, though also frustrating, part of my life in Kerr Sadaro is the constant, strategic battle of meal time.  My host mother seems to think that I need to eat three times of my body weight in rice and fish.  Greasy rice and fish.  With my hands.  Obvious gastronomical and skill difficulties aside, it's a lot of food.  A typical meal goes as follows;  I eat until I'm almost full and then say 'I'm full' (something I learned to say on the first day) and my mother quite forcefully telling me that I'm not full and making me sit back down and eat another 10-100 (probably just 2) pounds of rice.  Various methods I've tried to win this war include me eating slowly (then the rest of the bowl is empty and I've been caught with my side still full of rice) or eating quickly (then I still end up eating more since they won't let me leave).  It's become a strategic battle at mealtime.  My host mother flicks food at me from across the bowl and I start to deflect it when I'm full and then we all laugh.  My mother found a recent method to make me eat more- the old 'shut her in her room until all the food is gone' technique. 

This happens most often at breakfast, where I am handed a 16" loaf of bread with margarine.  Have you ever tried to eat a whole 16" loaf of bread when you first wake up?  It is simply impossible!  The first day I managed to slip about half of it to a younger sibling since I didn't want to waste food.  My mother glared at me, but I had thwarted her.  She's parried since then by making me eat alone in my room so I can't slip the food to anyone else.  I struggled through the bread for two days before hiding 1/3 of my bread in my backpack and dropping it off at the compost pile in our demonstration garden every morning.  At first I felt guilty, but on Sunday I found the other PCTs doing the same!  It's rather amusing, since even though I eat more than I have in my entire life, my mother always looks after me worriedly when I leave the compound as though she fears I may grow faint from lack of food.   

The most amusing aspect of my life in Kerr Sadaro is my hair.  All the girls in my family are obsessed with my hair (oh, and everyone in my family thinks that my freckles are mosquito bites).  A major festival is coming up next week where all the women will have tight braids in their hair.  Unbeknownst to me, the girls in my family talked about my hair for a solid three days, trying to decide how to braid it and what I must have done to make it so straight.  So I found myself sat down on an upended bucket and six pairs of hands attacked my hair.  "Oh, rafetna!" (beautiful) they all were saying, but all I could think was that I hadn't washed my hair in three days.  Also, as my mom can attest, I have a very sensitive skin on my head.  Pretty soon, my hair was being roughly pulled in six different directions.  A braid would be completed and then one of the older sisters would decide it wasn't up to scratch, tear it out, and braid it tighter.  My host brothers kept walking by on various pretexts, but really just to see if my sisters could tame my hair.  We all laughed and laughed.  

                I looked so silly with my sisters clucking and pulling on my hair, then even my 3 year old sister Awa, whom I've nicknamed Empress Awa, giggled and talked to me for the first time!  I've been informed to buy elastics and they'll try to braid my hair again next week in a proper hair session.  I can't even fathom what a 'proper hair' session will be like!     

               

So, after a week at training and a week with my host family, many impromptu language lessons, several added layers of dirt, my first scorpion sighting, and a head of partially braided hair- I'm signing off!