Yes, I Live in a Christmas Village

(written the week after Thanksgiving, slightly out of date...)

For almost as long as I can remember, I helped my Grandma set up her "Dicken's Village" at Christmas.  For those of you not aware, Dicken's are a set of elaborate miniature houses and buildings the likes of what many suburban mothers put up to form a Christmas village under the tree, in a windowsill, or up on a bookshelf, just more expensive.  There are houses and shops of all shapes and sizes, figurines selling everything from pheasants to flowers, horse-drawn carts (quite unlike Senegalese charettes), iceskaters and small children, a plethora of tree varieties, snow-covered stone paths and walls, and anything else you can think of to convey the imagery of a small English town at Christmastime (or London, around the time of Charles Dickens).

One of the towers and the
"curiosity shop"

I spent many afternoons during the early Christmas season helping my Grandma create elaborate country, town, and city scenes with her figurines.  We used seran wrap to create streams under bridges, styrofoam to add height and dimensions, and cotton to look like freshly fallen snow.  I remember my sister and I occassionally using the figurines like Barbie dolls, creating elaborate stories for them, especially the quaint farm scene (that always had a place at child's eye level underneath Uncle Kenny's coffeetable).  The scenes took up her entire house--on bookshelves, under tables, as center pieces on tables normally reserved for eating--anywhere!  We always had a lot of fun brainstorming where to put pieces and I know she was sad when I got too busy to spend much time on them when I got to high school.

Homes along the river, complete with
stone wall

It's been snowing in Semur on and off for about a week now, and sticking (which means it's cold!).  While out for a "run" this week down by the Armacon River which cuts through town, I suddenly felt transported into the miniature villages of my childhood.  Semur, with it's old Burgundian architecture, flowing river, and snow covered stone walls was suddenly the personification of the Dicken's village (except without all of the Oliver Twist-esque aspects of 19th Century London).  Below are some shots, let me know what you think:

What a classic country lane!

Snow draped rooftops 

Looking up on the church from the river

Ok, so the French winter sky is always really gray, so the pictures aren't as beautiful as I would like, but oh well.

Update: after a week of nonstop rain, the snow is back.  It's still a little gray, but much better than the dreary start to December.  I hope you are all getting in the Holiday spirit, wherever you may be!

"Sur le pont d'Avignon...

on y danse, on y danse. 

Sur le pont d'Avignon,

on y danse tout en ronde."

I'll admit, I'm a pretty terrible francophile.  Sure, I've been speaking French for something like 11 years, spent a summer in Paris, and graduated from college with a Certificate in Translation (meaning that through the litterature heavy AU French Dept I had read several French authors), but I don't actually know that much about France, the different regions, or various current political or cultural figures (historical, sure, covered that in Paris).  While applying to this Assistantship program, I had to ask friends and basically googled the different regions, somewhat randomly choosing rural areas over some of the more industrial or famous parts of the country.  A shame?  Maybe, but I've obviously become more interested in Africa in recent years and Belgium has always held my Western European interests (and Sweden my northern interests).

 I had vaguely heard of Avignon when Monika suggested we visit it during our 5 day weekend in early November, but I couldn't totally place it at first.  A quick Rick Steve's check reminded me it's the city of the French popes and has a famous bridge, but that's about it. 

A look down on old Avignon

Avignon is a very cool city, the old heart of which is held behind the ancient town walls. It is a university town in southern France and a lot edgier than dear old Burgundian Dijon, in part to the interesting mix of cultures that comes from its location closer to the Mediterranean Sea.  I was pleasantly surprised when I kept forgetting I was actually in France and not Italy, between the popes, paintings, and good ol' Roman ruins.  Famous Avignon souvenirs include lavender, soap, fabric, and the multi-purpose Herbes de Provence (which we have learned this year can be used in everything from quiche to squash soup, chili, and Thanksgiving stuffing), none of which I purchased.



Le Pont du Gard



We stayed with some nice German university students and visited such famous sites as the Palais des Papes, Musee de la Petit Palais (sacred art, including a Botticelli), the Pont St Benezet (the famous bridge), the Pont du Gard (old Roman acqueduct you've seen in your high school French books, a bit outside of town), the opera (a first for me!  We saw Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte), and the Roman ampitheater in Orange on the way back.  The biggest let down was that the museums in Avignon are all operated by a private company, meaning we couldn't get in free with our "Pass Education" which allow free entrance into all public museums and monuments (like the Louvre).  Lameness, so we were forced to use our university student IDs get some discounts on entrance.

Part of the Palais des Papes,
but it's too big to get in one
picture.  Cool lighting tho!

While I never learned the famous song as a child growing up (thanks, Mom!), it's famous enough to have been dedicated as a UNESCO World Heritage site solely for it's role in the song (and not for it's architectural success as the bridge has been more than half destroyed by the Rhone River).

In front of the beautiful cathedral
for the Popes

Anyways, it was a good trip and I'm glad we were able to make the most of a 6-day weekend before the cold set in.

Thanksgiving, à la Française

A very happy and slightly belated Thanksgiving to all of the readers out there, wherever you are!

Thanksgiving or Christmas?  The snow started Thursday early afternoon and continued on and off most of the weekend.

  

I thought this was clever and complex,
yet not too difficult for my
oldest students to figure out.

Every holiday celebration is slightly different (or extremely different in my case) and Thanksgiving 2010 was no different.  Since my job here in France is to use American culture to teach French students the (American-)English language, Thanksgiving was an obvious choice for two weeks worth of class lessons.  Like my fellow American assistants, I spent the week prior researching a little on the background of Thanksgiving, as well as debating how to best include (or not include) some of the more culturally-sensitive aspects of Thanksgiving.  Having participated in many an elementary school Thanksgiving feast (including being a chosen reader in a Thanksgiving skit that would no longer be considered culturally appropriate), I had a lot of memories but needed a brush-up.  After scouring the internet for various lesson plan ideas, stories, and whatnot (some ok, many terrible), I decided it would be best to brush over some of the sensitive aspects and focus on what Thanksgiving has become today in America (having not participated in a US Thanksgiving in 3 years, I'm not really "up" on US culture, but whatevs).  Instead of the fateful first interactions between the Pilgrims and Native Americans (including Squanto who's story I am now fully versed on), I focused on four aspects: 1. Family (and friends), 2. Food; 3. Football (and the Macy's parade), and 4. Being Thankful.

I prepped a few different lessons, based on the grade level but all very similiar and was pleasantly surprised when they were mostly well-received by the students.  While I'm not sure if they understood everything, they all know that we eat turkey and pumpkin pie (which they think is a disgusting idea), watch football/the parade, and most get that we like to be with family and friends.  A few students and teachers even understood that it's hard to be away from family/friends/other Americans for the holiday, and asked me if I was sad, which was sweet.  Some may have even understood the idea "to be thankful for", because I asked them about it, but it's a much harder idea to get through their heads than the idea of a "large chicken" and lots of other types of food.  Whatever, it worked and put me in a great mood all week and helped get me into the spirit of Thanksgiving (even though I had to work on Thursday). 

  

A small, typical French oven

While in America for the Derlunas wedding, I planned ahead and purchased two cans of Libby's pumpkin in anticipation of perhaps being brave enough to do a Semur Thanksgiving.  A few weeks prior, I chickened out of everything except pumpkin pie due to the small size of our kitchen and my busy Thursdays.  However, as I was prepping the lessons, I got brave again and talked to the other American assistant in Semur, Jie, and we decided to get our international group of girls together for a Thanksgiving.  We had 4 countries represented (or perhaps 7, depending how you want to think of it) and had people bring dishes. 

Monika had difficulty carving the chicken,
so Vir was called in to help (not the
US Americans)

We didn't have a turkey due to the size of our tiny oven, but Vir and Anne (Argentina and France) made a delicious apple glazed chicken; Jie (the US, China) made mashed potatos, gravy, and chesnuts; Monika (Germany, Bolivia) made the beans and whipped cream, and provided the wine; and I introduced the girls to pumpkin pie.  (Klara, also from Germany, arrived in time for dessert, armed with delicious sparkling peach wine.)  It was quite the feast!



Thanksgiving Semur-style
Myself, Anne, Vir, and Jie. 
(Monika took the picture and Klara had not yet arrived.)



  

Not the prettiest pie ever, but I nearly
melted tasting it, yummy!

Even though I didn't have Thanksgiving Day off, I was still able to benefit from a long weekend since I always have Fridays off.  A bunch of the American assistants located in Dijon wanted to get together and celebrate Thanksgiving, so after submitting my first grad school application of the year, I "quickly" baked another pie and hopped on the bus.  I arrived to the setting-up of the Dijon Christmas market and spent an enjoyably long evening with other North Americans conversing over some great food.  (I didn't take any pictures though because there were about 5 or 6 other cameras constantly snapping and didn't find it necessary, sorry people.)  We played a fun game similar to taboo where I discovered how out of touch I am with French culture and government, being more of a franco-afrophile than a true francophile, which I am mostly okay with.  It was a great evening and I really appreciated being a non-Dijoner invited to celebrate with those based in the city itself.  Thanks to Taya for hosting the large group of us, Sarah for letting me stay at her place for the night, and Erica for grabbing coffee with me when I arrived several hours before the start of the dinner.  It was also a great opportunity to discuss travel possibilities with some others who are up for something a little more exciting than Western Europe...

And now, since it is (or was) Thanksgiving, I guess I should mention some of the things that I am Thankful for this year, in no particular order:

• All of the people who have sent me cards and letters in the past month, especially the Thanksgiving cards.  A big thanks for the three packages that arrived this week from Jen, Emily, and Bob and Margaret, especially the homemade cranberry banana bread and all of the chai tea, AMAZING!  Thanks for all of the love and kindness, even when I sometimes feel silly asking for things while living in a developed country.
• To my parents and everyone else who continue to support my crazy ideas and inability to stay in the same place or country for too long, in the midst of the crazy economic annoyances and massive student loans, especially with everything else they have to take care of.  You guys are champs and God has a special spot in heaven for you.  Thank you for your love and support.
• My sister, who I only seem to see once a year, but whom my students already think is cooler than I am because she is working so hard at something she loves and her bands will be huge some day.  Though she couldn't make it to Senegal, hopefully she can make it to France.  She, and several other friends, are inspiring me to start "running" (err, attempt to).  Maybe someday I will be able to do a 5km, but at least now I can do something since I don't have Zumba or Healthbridge.
• For all of my friends and family in Senegal.  I talked to many of them a few weeks ago for Tabaski and swelled with love as they passed the phone around, sending blessings and offers of sheep meat my way.  I miss them more than words can say and can't wait to return, hopefully sooner rather than later.  Amidst my frustrations and difficulties over the 27 months, they taught and loved me so much and I genuinely miss my crazy life with them in Ndiomdy (and Thies).
• For my job here in Semur-en-Auxois.  The town is super adorable and though I might not love the job and the school might not be the most organized/functional, it's still a job that at least pays a little. It has already shaped part of where my life is going (or more, where it's not going...) and I've met some great people and I know there will be some fun adventures in our future.  I have an apartment and though it's freezing, at least I have someone to share it with and fight for better heating--and we get along!
• Tying in to the above, I am thankful for all of the amazing and crazy experiences I've had and will hopefully continue to have.  After life in DC, the city of world travelers, I sometimes forget that things like study abroad, alternative break, mission trips, the Peace Corps, and other types of global work are NOT actually normal for most people.  When my students asked me where I've traveled, they were shocked that I've been to 39 US states and over 20 countries!  I had never even thought about that until they asked, but I've been blessed with some cool and ridiculous jobs and opportunities to learn more about the world in the hope of making it a better place some day.  Little by little.  O ndang o ndang.
• For the $6 Target leggings I bought prior to coming which have already played an important role as long underwear/layers and the newly purchased 5euro H&M legwarmers.  Best purchases in recent memory, hands down.  I may fantasize about the days when I woke up sweating in my hut instead of shivering curled up with my computer next to the radiator, but at least I have things to layer. 
• God, because He is pretty freakin' incredible, 'nuff said.

There's so much more I could include, but I will stop there.  Thanks for reading this and I hope that you all have a great start to the holiday season.

Yea Malaria Prevention!

So please check out this video shout out to Peace Corps Senegal and their work with Malaria No More (Ed Helms is from The Office if you think he looks familiar).  While I never did one of their mosquito net distributions, many of my friends did and I worked with other distributions and on lots of other types of Malaria prevention education.  (Check out my blog entry about Neem Lotion from November 2009: http://pcbeth.blogspot.com/2009/07/fighting-malaria-1-bar-of-soap-at-time.html)

Ok, here's the video.  Yea Peace Corps! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcCV0uGqMVI


(btw Comedians Against Malaria?  Whatever, as long as it helps combat the spread of this controllable disease.)

A Day on the Vines

So prior to my brief US sejour, I spent a fabulous afternoon in a tiny village an hour or so away from Semur, visiting the family of some friends here (the parents of the host mom of two of the assistants--her name is Odile).  They live in an old agricultural village, have fields, several gardens, animals, and a tiny vineyard.  We were invited to help with their recolt, which is done by hand in a long afternoon because the vineyard is so small.  This was one of my favorite days so far in France because the weather was gorgeous and it gave me a chance to get back outside, in the sun, and working in a garden.  Hopefully this day was just the start of my Burgundy wine-o education :)





We went up and down the steep rows, filling up buckets, emptying them in large barrels, and refilling them, all the while munching on fresh grapes right off the vine.  After a tough few hours in the sun, we stopped and drank fresh grape juice and ate soft cheese and cookies.  So French.  It was perfect.

After returning to the farmhouse with the loot of grapes, the men started separating the fruit from the woody bits, and the other assistants and I followed Odile to check out the four massive gardens here parents (in their 80s!) still work.  If only the people from Ndiomdy could see these gardens!  Every household had at least one and most weren't even fenced in because animals such as goats, sheep, and cows are penned in and not allowed to run rampant (novel concept for the Senegalese!).  The largest garden was still full of carrots, varieties of cabbage, winter lettuce, spinach, and so many different types of leafy vegetables that I had to keep asking about.  We drained two of the gardens of any of the ripe varieties of squash we could find, from zuccini to pumpkin-like orange globes to miniature flying saucers, butternuts, spaghetti squash, random gourds, and even a few renegade cucumbers.

 Just one part of one of the many gardens, one of our more than 6 full barrels of squash, and me, excited to be outside, in a garden, and wearing flipflops again.

  



We finished the day with homemade pumpkin soup, the first of many episodes of squash soup this fall :)





The Girls

So though I have a lot to say about France right now, here's an article a fellow Senegal RPCV (now hanging out in Chile, then coming to France in January) posted.

Some of my faves: Sorkhna, Rose, and Awa

Giving African Girls a Chance to Learn

A lot of my Kaolack PCV friends worked with this organization, 10,000 Girls, while I was in Senegal, in varying degrees.  I never did because my schedule was pretty insane, as you know, but I always heard remarkable things about their work.

One paragraph especially stuck out to me.

"I researched the whys and wherefores of the little girls' educational failures. I found that of every 60,000 girls who enter first grade, only 4,500 finish primary school in the region of Kaolack. Of those 4,500 students entering middle school, only 1,500 will enter high school. Five hundred will graduate with a high school diploma, 150 will enter university, and 15 will receive their university degree."

15.  If a girl fails primary school two years in a row she is kicked out.  Or if she turns 15 in primary school, she is also kicked out at the end of the year.  It may sound old, but I knew many 14 and 15 year old girls who had delayed education and thus in the equivilent of 4th grade towered over some of their 9 year old classmates.  But they were still in school and that's what mattered.  They wanted to be there.

Mbarrou, Adama, Absa, Bigue, Ndiaye, Jambar, Fatou Khady, Jabu, Awa, Ndeye, Siga, Rose, Sauce, Ami, Sorkhna, Rhoky, Mame Gnilan, Fatou, Codou, Congo, and these are just some of the girls who touched my heart and who may never finish their studies, and probably don't even dream of making it through university as I have.  That's more than 15 names right there.  Maybe 5 or 6 of them will get to high school, and hopefully at least a few of them will graduate.  Absa's mom almost finished high school (making her the highest educated woman in Ndiomdy), so she has a higher chance of attending and hopefully completing high school as well, but the other girls?  Most of their mothers can't even read French. 

[I'm so proud of these girls and love them so much, which is part of why I organized and led activities at area schools, to help keep them there. I hope that someday the French students I work with will realize how blessed they are as well, instead of striking.]

What can be done?  I don't know and this entry isn't a chance for me to get on a soapbox to preach about the plight of my beloved village nieces and what we need to do--it's just to spread knowledge and appreciation of how blessed we are. 

The girls' mater watering team in the garden.  They put the boys' teams to shame.

Just another thing to be thankful for this November.

So Much, Too Much

Soooo sorry, I guess my promised update about life never showed up...things have been interesting, that's for sure.  I'm in the process of a few different posts, but here's a quick update on some random things since my last post.

• I've met almost all of the 8 English teachers I'm supposed to be working with (8 teachers, 12 hours...interesting!) and only met about half of the students due to tests, teacher strikes, a quick US trip, and a week of student strikes.  The teachers (and everyone else in town) are very nice, though I must admit that I'm at a loss for what to do with the students.  I've got some ideas, but still have no clue what their levels are.
• My apartment is freezing cold.  On nice days like today, is noticeably colder inside than outside.  W e are trying to figure out what to do because our tiny space heaters suck electricity and the school refuses to turn on the radiator.  I will be drinking a lot of tea and eating a lot of soup this winter.  Pictures of the apartment coming soon, hopefully (see below).
• I spent a quick 4 days out of France to be the Maid of Honor in Brian and Emily Derlunas' wedding in Gettysburg, PA.  It was a beautiful wedding and everything went swimmingly, though there was a serious possibility that I would not be allowed back in France after because I'm still in the process of getting my visa validated.  I spent two weeks contacting everyone under the sun, in France and the US, in order to obtain a return visa or find someone who could tell me I would be allowed back (people here were telling me just to "forget it" and not be "too disappointed," which was not a possibility).  In the end, as usually happens, the border police did not even glimpse at my visa, just looked at my picture and stamped a random page.  Worrying about this issue occupied about two full weeks of my life and thus nothing else got taken care of.  Oh, and due to national train and metro strikes, I barely got to Paris for the flight and barely made it back to my town.  Too close for comfort.
• I spent an awesome Saturday afternoon picking grapes in a small vineyard an hour away and then picking squash in some gardens.  Incredible.  There are lots of pictures and hopefully a post coming about that.
• There's neither gym nor Zumba in Semur, so I'm trying to develop an exercise routine.  The Maison Pour Tous (kind of like a community rec center) has a Thursday night step aerobics class which my German roommate, Monika, and I tried.  Though I extremely dislike step aerobics, it was good to sweat and do something physical, plus it's not too expensive if I sign up for the whole year.  The biggest problem?  The instructor has the workout "choreographed" to music from 1999 and worst of all, can't hear the beat or cues in the music so instructs people to move against the beat.  For this lifelong dancer, it's obvious and obnoxious.  But it's something to do, so I might just keep up with it.
• Last week the students were on strike and now we are on Toussaints Holiday (a 10-day holiday for All Saints' Day) until November 4.  I spent the past few days in Dijon with some other assistants, exploring, hiking, and drinking tea.  If I lived there, it would be dangerous financially :)   I wanted to travel somewhere on my travel list (it's pretty long...), but we are still awaiting our first pay check and after my quick US trip, didn't think it would be smart to leave again.
• I miss Senegal a lot, but the more time I spend here and experience certain aspects of France, the more I understand about Senegal.  That's definitely a blog post.  I also found a HUGE population of Senegalese selling at the 3x/week market in Dijon and was super creepy listening to their conversations in Wolof.  Also, it's not as fun to just talk random nonsense with Senegalese in France as it is with Senegalese in Senegal.
• NO ONE can pronounce my name here, sauf a few English profs.  Most people who ask my name just stare at me blankly, then look with confusion at whoever introduced us thinking it's a joke, and it's uncomfortably awkward until I tell them that my name is "BeTTani" instead.  [I kind of expected this to happen, but it's a little worse in France than it was in Brussels, Paris, or Senegal.]  A few have resorted to calling me Bettina (a la my Belgian host mom Adriana), which just may be easier.
• I'm constantly exploring Semur and life as a Semuroise.  There's not a lot to do in town, so I walk around a lot and try and stop by any market or festival going on.  Last weekend was the "Journee de la Pomme" which was basically a gymnasium full of tables of various types of ancient apples and some things for sale, but I wound up sharing lunch with a sweet older French lady after I bought some cidre from her.  She was friendly and chatty, confused about my crazy accent (America meets Senegal, Brussels, Paris, Burgundy, etc), and had somethings to share about her opinion of the Sarkozy and the strikes.  I also ran into one of the English teachers who has offered me use of her bike when I need it and showed me the giant house she is in the middle of renovating.  There's a movie theatre and a regular one, both of which I've attended on two separate occassions each.  I'm trying to be more spontaneous and let little Semur surprises guide my days.

Ok, that's all for now friends.  I'll try and write some decent posts sooner rather than later.  As I mentioned, I'm having issues with picasa and updating photos, which is also tied to this blog.  Knowing that I need to deal with that technology has kept me from putting anything substantial on here.  Sorry!

The other side of Semur

New Country, New Look to the Blog

Yep, so I'm no in France, in a tiny town called Semur-en-Auxois, and I decided it was finally time to change up my blog.  Nostalgia for Senegal has (and still is) kept me from updating the look for now, but it seemed time.  It will probably change a few more times in the next few weeks as I figure out what I like and try to connect this blog with a different email address (so I can upload more pictures since my current FREE Picasa account is full).  I didn't want to start a completely new blog because I firmly believe that my experiences here, in Senegal, and wherever else life takes me, while distinct, are very much connected.  I'm sure I will make references to Senegal in my posts this year, if not outright entries just about Senegal.  I still have so many stories to tell and hopefully my down time here will allow me to tell them.

More about France soon.  Don't worry I'm not homeless and while I've gotten some strange looks when accidently slipping Serere or Wolof into my French, I have yet to be spit at, so that's something, right?  :)

A bientot.

Readjustment and Such

So I recently had someone request that I write a little about the culture shock and readjustment issues I've been dealing with over the past two, almost three, months since I returned from Senegal. In all honesty, I've been delaying writing anything on here or really processing my experience because I'm still kind of in denial about being back. I miss Senegal and life as a PCV insanely and finding this period of transition before I head off on my next adventure to be more than a little challenging. It's getting easier however, and it's taken about a month just to write this entry, but I hope it's interesting.

Pulling water from the well at the school garden

A lot of the things that I expected to be surprised about (bell peppers the size of my face while grocery shopping, meat in every single meal, etc), were not necessarily the things that amazed/shocked me in the end. Some random tidbits follow:



~Language: Something that I'm finding a little more difficult than expected (and yet kind of love that this is an issue) has been transitioning from speaking multiple languages on a daily basis (I could have conversations with locals and fellow PCVs that incorporated French, English, Serere, Wolof, and Arabic) to speaking English rekk (only). Realizing even basic catch phrases PCVs use constantly mean absolutely nothing to the people around me has been strange. At work, a coworker might ask a question about something that's happening or needs to be done, and I want to add an Arabic "Inchallah" (God willing) or "Alhumdouliliah" after something good happens. A few times I've let it slip and just get a strange look from whoever is around me, so mostly wind up whispering French, Serere, or Arabic phrases under my breath (weird, huh?). America is very much a one-language country (or at least Crystal Lake is), and I have always wanted to be bilingual, so having to drop my second, third, and fourth languages is a mental challenge. I'd consider myself almost fluent in French (well, West African French) and Serere, and somewhat competent in Wolof, and really don't want to lose my language skills. I need to actively keep up my French before heading abroad again, but it's hard without a conversation buddy. As for Serere, how do you keep from forgetting a dying language? Yea, trying to work on that... Hopefully I will be able to do a little Serere translating and help update the dictionary from over here.



~Gender Roles: One of the things that has outraged me the most since coming back have been the advertisements. Unfortunately, I've already wasted more time than I care to admit in front of the TV, watching terrible shows on the Travel and Disney channels, and thus have been forced to watch even more horrible commercials. In Senegal, all PCVs do a lot of what we call "GAD" (Gender and Development) work, consciously or unconsciously, talking about shared tasks and gender equality and all that jazz in America. I spent a lot of time in my village talking about how my (American) dad cooks all of the time, does the laundry, etc, and how important it is for men and women to share the tasks at home, which mostly got laughs from the Senegalese. My host sisters eventually understood enough that when a visitor asked about my marital status, besides just explaining how I don't like polygamy, they also volunteered how my husband and I will share work in the home (that we will BOTH cook, clean, do laundry, etc). This usually got an uncomfortable laugh from the guest about the crazy white chic, but whatever, people got the idea and I hoped it challenged some of their ideas of gender roles. Then I came back and watched TV and realized modern American culture is not quite as gender equal as I had envisioned. The commercials for sales at stores like Kohl's or Macy's all feature only shopping-obsessed women. Household cleaning ads and laundry detergent all feature ALL female casts. A good 75+% of the advertisements seemed focused on female shoppers/cleaners/cooks/etc. Why is this? Maybe this is a subject for a completely non-Senegal related blog post for someone other than this middle-of-the-road feminist, but still. Also surprising to me was how annoyed all of these commercials have made me. I also think that seeing the differences between Senegalese and American male-female friendships and relationships since returning has also surprised me, though I don't quite have enough words to describe my thoughts and views for the public yet.


~On the shopping note, women's fashion: ew, gross. It all looks like large trash bags with spandex pant leggings. No shape and flattering on very few body types, plus way overpriced. Not a fan. I have, however, found a little bit of success replenishing my closet with strategic sale shopping (70% off at Loft, thank you very much!) and wearing through old clothing staples (so that I can donate or trash them at the end of the summer). A few RPCVs and I were having a conversation about how terrible women's fashion is right now, because it's bad--but sorry to those who are enjoying it! [And I hope that I didn't prove the justification of all of the only female Kohl's and Macy's ads all over television.]


~More comical: the LACK of bugs and creepy crawly things around. The walls in my room are white with a few old nails and hooks still sticking out and still, almost everytime I see one of those hooks out of the corner of my eye, I do a double-take, thinking I see a cockroach, millipede, or scorpion, just like I'm still in my hut. I see shadows and think they are giant spiders. I've woken up in the middle of the night, or even the afternoon, thinking I hear the scratches of a mouse or shrew. One of my biggest fears going into the Peace Corps was, seriously, the bugs. Yes, I saw some pretty big creepers, but eventually I got "used to" (didn't like, but didn't freak out upon seeing them either) most of them, except that 2 week period in February when cockroaches took over my hut and latrine. Sometimes I think that I hear or feel mosquitoes or Senegalese ear wigs on me (gross!). It's almost like I have creepy crawly post-traumatic stress disorder. Fortunately, it's tolerable and I live in a pretty clean house (good job Mom and Dad!).


~I miss Senegal like crazy. For most of my second year of PC service, I thought about and was asked to extend for a third year. The options were many: extend in Dakar and support the Health and EE programs, extend in Thies and keep working with PST, extend in Kaolack and support the Kaolack Region PCVs, or even extend in Djilor/Kaolack and focus on the Serere dictionary (this was an idea that hit me in my last few weeks, when I felt like it was almost a little too late, tho I know it wasn't). It was a hard decision, though a lot of my reasons for not extending were made during a time when I was feeling somewhat bitter and jaded about things and didn't think it would be good for my emotional health. I thought about extending for a short term, but basically wanted to be back for some weddings this summer. While important and great experiences, I still frequently find myself wishing that I had extended instead to work on the dictionary or PST. I think about my village friends and family as well as my PCV friends and the adventure and monotony of daily life as a PCV, on an almost daily basis. There's definitely things I don't really miss (like arguing for bags while taking public transport, certain interactions in the Kaolack market, or the never ending heat), but in general I had a great experience and of course think only about the good aspects of life there. While there were definitely aspects of PCV social life that I did not enjoy, I really miss the support network and my Djilor neighbors. I also (kind of surprisingly) miss the food: bean sandwiches, millet couscous with leaf sauce and chicken, yassa poulet, millet with raw milk, fresh mangoes and cashew apples, mmm! Those are things you just can't get here. Overall, however, it's the people I miss the most. Yes, I can call my village and do, or other PCVs, but phone calls and occasional emails just aren't the same as sitting underneath a shade tree in Ndiomdy and talking or taking a sketchy public transportation ride in order to meet up with a bunch of other Americans. It's the personal interactions with everyone that I miss so much.


~What my Peace Corps Service could have been: I LOVE reading blogs and looking at pictures from other PCVs who are still over in Senegal, or just beginning their services. I enjoy reading about their work projects, hut improvements, PCV adventures, and cross-culture sharing activities, but it's hard not to compare my Service with their's. I had a full and fulfilling service, but there was always a list of more things I wanted to do: for my village, to share my culture, to share about Senegal with America, or parts of Senegal to see, but never had a chance to. Or I was too scared and nervous. There are beautiful pictures with important people that I wanted to, but never took. Or started taking too late and missed hundreds or amazing shots early in my Service. It's hard not to compare and get down about the things I did NOT do, but when I look back on my experience, I need to focus on what I DID do and the experiences I had. Each Peace Corps Service is different. Mine was mine and their's are their's and I need to be comfortable with that.


~A lack of independence: going from a totally open schedule with a lot of responsibility and very little need to inform anyone (except Etienne) of my whereabouts or activities (until they were complete, of course) to living with my parents and working at an over-caffeinated suburban coffeehouse with super strict rules has been a challenge, which many RPCVs go through (or so I hear). Being back in the town I grew up brings back old memories and emotions which I don't always want to think about, especially after living in DC and then my life-changing time in Senegal. Though it was difficult at first, I grew to really like making my own daily schedule and being in charge of myself and my whereabouts (even while walking or being tortured on public transportation) and now I'm back to being trapped by a somewhat spontaneous and poorly planned work schedule, dependence on a shared vehicle, and an alarm clock (Quelle horreur!). Ew.


~There's so much more I could write about, including my annoyances at American ignorance (a typical RPCV complaint), laziness, obsession with technology (iPhone 4, ew), ideas about minivans, people constantly referring to Africa as a country and not a continent (especially while directly referencing something about my time in Senegal), and the fact that I will never truly be able to share my experiences with people around here. No one I see or talk to on a regular basis was able to visit Senegal and thus no one can truly understand what I went through or the reintegration I'm going through, which can be tough (more so on some days than others). That's why it's so important to stay in contact with RPCVs, because we are able to share our experiences of reintegration and memories of our time in Senegal together.

-----

There have of course been some good things about being back: including being around to help some good friends (and a cousin) celebrate their weddings, spending time with some old friends who have known me for a lot longer than 27 months, seeing family members (including one of my cousins who lived at our house for the summer), Zumba and other classes at Healthbridge to keep me active, and being employed in a job that allows for a little bit of social stimulation (though with all of the weddings and such, I have yet to break even or make a profit).



Ok, I will try and post again soon-ish. I'm working on figuring out the next phase of life, with paperwork and tickets for France (plus contacting my school), getting rid of old junk in my room, and hopefully starting to scrapbook my PC Service. There's still sooooo much I want to share about Senegal with anyone willing to listen (err, read). Thanks for checking out this long, random, and not very well written post. :)

Leaving the village

So I was writing a belated (and final) update email about Senegal and as I was babbling (can you do that in written form?) about leaving the village, I realized that the email was becoming way too long and to just post about it here instead.

My last afternoon in the village, waiting for people to show up for the dance party. (Holding my father James and his mother Seynabou is sitting next to us, wearing a dress I had just given her.)

Anyway...

I left the village on April 22, in a terribly emotional day. The day before, that Wednesday, my supervisor Mamadou came to visit in what was my most chaotic day at site ever. Tuesday night, I had been up until 12:30am with my sisters and Seynabou, while she put a beautiful henna design on my feet (which like an idiot, knew I should take pictures of, and just never did). I woke up at 6:30 so she could take off the henna mixture and re-wrap my feet with an ash-mixture that would turn the henna from orange/red to black on my feet. I had to sit in my hut for an hour while the blackening mixture set, and then I ran over to the school as fast as I possibly could, as class was starting at 8am.

-

Along with the students, the teachers and I were supposed to seed the tree nursery as part of a class lesson, but Mamadou showed up an hour earlier than expected, just as we were getting ready. He wanted to chat about my work and thoughts, take a tour of the two gardens I helped set up, and enjoy a few rounds of tea. When he left two hours later, the students were in math class and I was told to come back in another hour, and they would plant right after the morning break. I showed up during break, armed with possessions I was gifting to the teachers, only to have them JUST then realize that it was my LAST day. Evelyn, one of my good friends, said as I gave her a candle "no Khady, you have to save this for your last day..." "But it is," I said. Uhoh.

Really? Where had they been the past month that the whole village (and the school director) knew I was leaving the next day, but not the rest of the teachers? Even my good friend Evelyn (she and I connected on being the only Catholics in Ndiomdy)? Ridiculous. The students knew, their parents knew, but the teachers somehow missed it, even in spite of all of my insisting that we had to plant the tree seeds in early April since I was leaving (but they still kept rescheduling, grr). They started protesting, talking about how they had wanted the students to do some type of special performance or ceremony to thank me, and how they wanted to make me a nice meal, etc. I was too annoyed and in shock that they hadn't realized it, all the while just wanting to get the tree nursery seeded so I could get on with my day.

-

As the morning break was ending, an ENORMOUS dust storm picked up and wouldn't quit. The students were eventually sent home since the teachers couldn't hold class in the storm (try teaching in stick classrooms or rooms with tin roofs in the middle of a dust storm, it sucks), which meant no seeding...so I dragged all four teachers out to the garden in the storm for a lesson on seed planting. [Note: in March, I sat down with the teachers and planned out when we would fill tree sacks with dirt and then seed them because I was leaving in mid-April. Then when the schedule kept being pushed back, I kept reminding them that we had a tight schedule because I was leaving soon. As my departure came closer and closer, I had a sinking feeling that I would NOT be around to watch them seed the tree nursery and I was correct. Failure. Hopefully, something that they seeded grew and will be successfully outplanted, but I'm not holding my breath.]

-

After the busted lesson at the school, I hurried back across my village for the 6th time, absolutely exhausted emotionally and physically, all before 12 noon.

The entire afternoon was spent frantically packing up and giving away everything left in my hut (though Mamadou had already taken all of the stuff I was keeping into Kaolack and up to Dakar). As I was standing in the chaos that remained quickly getting overwhelmed, my host dad or other family members would come by and sit with me (mostly in silence or with me making awkward and stressed conversation), until I had formed a small crowd, I would give them various possessions and clear out my hut for another 5 minutes until the crowd would form again. Yes, it was stressful to have people just sitting there and staring at me while I was trying to pack, but I also really appreciated it because I wanted to spend the day enjoying time with my village and was not able to otherwise. I used many of the children from my compound as messangers, sending them into the village with trunks, buckets, clothes, and other things to give to specific people. Dear village friends and family members would show up with bowls full of peanuts and other presents, and sit for awhile as well. I had hoped to spend the day visiting everyone, saying goodbye, and enjoying quality village time. It was the opposite.

Dancing with Ami Diouf

-

In the evening, I dressed up in my finest Senegalese complete from last Tabaski, the women of and the village honored me by holding a special drumming (called a mbud na in Serere or a sabaar in Wolof) right outside my hut. After watering in the garden, most of the women (and kids) in the village showed up and the dancing was INCROYABLE! The women sang songs about me, shared blessings and prayers for my journey back to America (and my family and especially that I would find a good husband upon my return). I danced with any woman who danced my way and really just tried to absorb as much love and appreciation as I could (and took lots of pictures and videos, thanks to Mary). I recorded some of the songs they sang and now have to figure out how to get them off of my voice recorder and onto a digital computer file I can put online. The songs were sweet and all about me and the work I did, especially the women's garden. They women presented me with over $50 in presents (a big deal there), including TONS of cashews, roasted peanuts, and raw peanuts to bring back to America. Three times they tried to end the drumming and dancing, only for the celebration to continue and eventually the dancing and drumming wound up in my crowded and cluttered hut.





As the celebration with the women was ending, my phone kept ringing and it was Evelyn demanding I come for dinner. They also sent my sister, Ndeye, who is also their cook, to fetch me and bring me to their house. The teachers (well, Ndeye) cooked a fancy dinner and demanded I come (which sadly took me away from my last dinner of millet in the village), where they also formally thanked me for my work with the school (and demanded/requested that I not "forget" about them, ie that I find them "a partner school" to work with them), expressed their disappointment that I was leaving so soon, and make arrangements to send me a gift in Dakar before I flew out (they said that they wanted to do something with the students for me, but because they didn't know...). After dinner, I rushed back home, spent a few hours with my family, having them record messages and greetings for my American family, chatting about Senegalese cooking as well as my departure ("what?! Peace Corps won't come and pick you up? You have to take a bus into Kaolack?!!") and then stayed up late finishing packing my 20+ kg (over 40lbs!) of peanut products and organizing the last few gifts for my family (bracelets for my sisters, buckets, prenatal vitamins, etc).

The crowd the morning I left...not happy people (just look at Seynabou's pouty face)

-

I woke up early, passed out the last presents in silence, and as my family gathered outside of my hut on benches still left from the night before, was forced to say goodbye. A lot of people from the village had said they would be there to officially say goodbye, but in typical Senegal fashion since Senegalese hate saying goodbye, very few actually came by, which I understood. I burst into tears as I was given/gave the left hand (an insult in Senegalese society, normally given to insure that your guest returns to "repay" the insult) to my entire family, many of them started crying, and I got on the charett for my last ride out of the village. They kept telling me not to cry, but that only made it worse, for all of us.

The charette I rode out of town. I made them stop so I could take a picture of the termite mounds along the side of the road, then I took a picture of them. (My bro Coli is driving the charette and wiping his tears with his tshirt, cute)

-

After waiting in Djilor with my brother Coli and counterpart Ibou, saying goodbye to my other counterpart Farba and numerous other people (the Pulaar bread&chocolate guy, the hardware store owner, etc), the Alhum (bus) was finally full and ready to go. I burst into tears again as the driver made me get on the bus, as did both Coli and Ibou. [Actually, I was kind of proud of the fact that both of those guys cared so much about me that they were crying in the middle of Djilor--a big deal for Senegalese men!] The women on the bus saw me crying and started talking amongst themselves, all kind of uncomfortable about my tears.

-

Woman 1: "Why's she crying?"

Woman 2: "I think she's traveling, but she's sure crying a lot for a little trip."

Woman 3 (who somehow knew Coli and had been talking with him a little): "No, I think she's leaving leaving."

Woman 1: (very somber) "Oh." (to which I turned around and nodded and then they all started sharing prayers about a safe journey back, etc." Very sweet.)

-

Most of the trip into Kaolack was uneventful as I tried to stop crying and texted a few people. Getting into Kaolack though, was a little chaotic as there was a huge religious ceremony happening just outside of town, so traffic was INSANE and cabs were hard to find. One of the bus driver's apprentices helped me get my stuff (a backpack, a bucket full of peanuts, a GIANT plastic bag full of peanuts, and a pillow case full of peanuts) and helped me drag it around on our epic search for a cab to take me to the Kaolack House. It took like 20 minutes to find an empty car and get a reasonable price, but the driver wound up being a pretty nice guy who spoke Serere (and I relatively easily dodged his requests for a date, lol).

-

As soon as I got into the Kaolack House, I was greeted by some kids from the fall stage who shared homemade French Toast with me. I spent the rest of the morning repacking my bags and organizing my peanuts to give away to other people, so that I could send my huge hiking backpack up to Dakar as Mamadou came through from visiting other PCV sites. With the encouragement of the other Volunteers in the house, I spent the ENTIRE rest of the day watching Glee on the projector at the Kaolack House in an attempt to emotionally recover from the morning and gear up for my trip to Mali via bus the next day. [More about Mali in a future blog post next week or the week after, Inchallah.]

~~~~~

Whoo! And that was my last 36 or so hours in Ndiomdy! Sorry if that was a long, repetitive, and emotional posting, but oh well. I thought you guys should hear a little about what it's like to leave the village the last day. I didn't really write about my last few weeks or even month, as it really was a long process of leaving. Instead, I wrote about the chaos that always seems to follow me whenever I have to pack up and leave some place for a very long time.

Not over yet...

So to those of you out there who still check this blog on occassion though I have been back in Amerik almost two weeks, a new post is coming hopefully in the next few days. I was busy with wedding celebrations for two dear friends, unpacking, and just adjusting to life in North America again, plus dealing with denial over the fact that I'm no longer in Senegal. Man, it was rough, but I still have so much that I want to share with all you readers (ok, the like 5 people who read this) about life in West Africa and Peace Corps Service, plus my fabulous trip to Mali right after leaving my village. I also misplaced my camera card reader and my USB stick during my last week in Dakar, so I haven't been able to update with pictures or anything either. Oxe garaa ndiiki (it's coming "soon") inchallah.

In the mean time, here's a picture from the wedding. For once, I'm actually the TAN one (and notice my hot tank top tan lines). More soon.

Genatiim Ndiomdy

I left the village for the last time this morning. It was terrible. I cried, women cried, men cried, the sky cried. (Seriously, it was drizzling)

Last night the women held a special drumming ceremony for me with dancing and singing, and I was sent off with about 20+kg (over 40lbs) worth of peanut and cashew products and blessings for health, a good life, a good husband ("handsome and with money" they prayed), greetings for my family, and a life of peace until I called them. I will write more about it as soon as I can get my computer to connect to the wireless in Kaolack, or save it for Dakar in a few weeks. I head to Mali tomorrow evening.

Leaving was so much harder than arriving, or leaving America for Senegal. I'll be honest and lay it out right now, it's going to be tough for me to come back...have patience, know that I love you all. I head to France in the fall for my next international adventure.

The Beginning of the End

Pictures have once again been added and updated on my Picasa website. I ran out of space, so had to do some deleting of old photos, but here's the most recent stuff from March. Yay Camels!

I'm off with some friends to where the beach meets the delta for Easter...back to site on Monday, but not for long. So sad :(

It's for the Girls!

Hey All!

I've been delaying/avoiding writing a post about celebrating my 2 years In Country (March 13!), mainly because I've been crazy busy with everything and the idea of taking time out to write a blog is just time I don't have. That being said, I am constantly realizing all of the things I want to share about life in Senegal and with the Peace Corps that I still haven't had a chance to (garage shopping experiences, Serere wrestling, the strange rodents recently moved into my hut, etc) and time is quickly running out.

The point of this post isn't for any of the above but to make a request on the behalf of other PCVs here regarding a project I was involved in last year, but for various reasons did not have the opportunity to get off the ground (the PCVs in charge had to COS and then the school year happened, etc) until this year. Unfortunately, I won't be around to help with the execution, but I wanted my blog readership (can I say that?) to know about something really cool that will be happening in my area this summer: a Girls' Leadership Camp!

If you remember back in November, I held a Girls' Leadership Day for local girls which was an amazing opportunity to gather girls from two local middle schools to get together, share their experiences, and celebrate being strong young women in Senegal. This camp will expand upon events like mine, including subjects such as health (including HIV/AIDS and STIs), the environment, and leadership skills. Plus fun. Lots of fun! Crafts, swimming, games, and all sorts of things that young Senegalese girls rarely get to do, all away from home for a week! This is an activity that I was really excited about, but unfortunately was not able to happen during my PC Service, but my neighbors Mary and Chris will be actively involved in.

Please read the message below from the PCVs organizing the camp and consider donating to this worthy cause. They are very close to the final goal, so every bit helps.

The Girls’ Leadership Camp for the regions of Fatick, Kaolack and Kaffrine will bring together 25 of the top middle-school aged girls to work together in heightening their independence, improving leadership skills and encouraging them to take active roles in their communities. Academically motivated girls who have a good repuation among their peers and teachers will have the opportunity to attend this week-long camp.

At the camp, there will be a range of activities including interactive sessions on topics such as personal health, potential careers, and the environment. Through the guest speakers, the girls will have the opportunity to learn from positive female role models in their community. Other activities such as arts and crafts, swimming lessons, skits, team-building and trust games will also be part of the camp curriculum.

Your contribution will help pay for transportation, lodging, food, and supplies for the activities. Donations are tax deductible and can be made online on the Peace Corps Website.

Any amount is appreciated!

Volunteers serving in other regions in Senegal have conducted camps similar to this one, experiencing great success. We hope to foster leadership skills in the younger generations and provided a positive environment for girls to develop as leaders of their communities.

If you are interested in donating, please go here

I know that the economy is bad (read: I'm coming back very soon with no job prospects...), but remember, "It's for the girls!"

And they deserve it more than anyone else I can think of.

Thanks :)

Personal Update

So, I feel like it's been FOREVER since I've written a decent update about life here...mainly it's just been projects and photos (not saying that it's a bad thing), but it's been forever since I've submitted a long, rambling, and mostly incoherent post for you, my viewing public, to enjoy--or to wonder how I made it through university with such atrocious grammar and spelling inconsistencies. [To that, I respond that I've been in Senegal almost two full years now and English has become my 4th language and no one here really seems to care if I babble or can't spell anymore.]

Anyways, so as some of my last posts have shared, January was a pretty crazy busy month. In addition to everything I had to do for the peer educator training, I've also been coordinating purchase, delivery, and installation of chainlink fencing for the already-existing (but in severe disrepair) women's garden in my village plus monitoring/maintaining the school garden, and waging a defensive war against goat and donkey attacks on the baby trees at the school (involving chopping/transplanting jatropha trees around the baby trees to form a live fence). I've dealt with a lot of frustration over lack of community involvement in protecting the trees and maintaining the schoolyard and garden, but have refused to sit on my laurels (sp? Clueless reference...) and have become even more of a woman of action than I already am. There's so much to do and I am in a race against a clock (or a visa/flight that says I should be returning to America in May, or sometime around then).

My Stage at COS, otherwise known as Stage E.T. or Stage Bad Attitude. Look how far we've come!

Last week, my Stage (the group of PCVs I first arrived in Senegal with back in March 2008) had what Peace Corps terms the Close of Service (COS) Conference. Over 3 days and 4 nights, they put us up in a hotel, feed us ridiculous amounts of uber-rich food, and talk to us about finishing up things for PC (admin, medical, etc), leaving the village, and returning to America (culture shock and stuff...warning: you will all find that I am much stranger than when I left 2 years ago, even though I've seen many of you at least once since then). It was exciting, empowering, and overwhelming (there are just too many options out there!), and it's already over. By far the best part though was just being with my Stage for several days, and rehearsing a Bollywood style dance which we performed this past weekend for the awe and amazement of a few hundred PCVs.


A lot of my Stage-mates are starting to formulate plans for post-PC service, though several are in my boat as well--waiting to hear from grad school or other organizations. A few are extending for a 3rd year as well. This week, however, has been full of a lot of nostalgia as we start to say goodbye to each other. Some people are leaving as early as the end of March for America, though most are leaving at the end of April or early May, but I probably will not see many of them before they leave Senegal. It's a weird feeling and the nostalgia is catching all of us. Last night, we did a Stage dinner at a nice restaurant in Dakar and much of the evening was spent toasting our 2 years, marveling that we made it this far, talking about the future, and saying goodbye (or, see you later). As another pointed out, we go into PC expecting to form relationships with the people in our villages and our host families because of all of the time we spend with them, but the friendships that happen between PCVs kind of sneak up on a person. Though we may be quite spread out across the country, we are the closest we will ever have to someone understanding what it means to have been a PCV in Senegal. No one else can really understand what these past 2 years have meant, but we have been through many things together (or similar things separately) and that's a bond that won't soon be broken. Man, even with the chaos and stress of Senegal, it will be hard to leave. I'm already dreading it.

Team Kaolack

After COS, I stayed in Dakar for WAIST, the West African Invitational Softball Tournament, which drew PCVs and expats from all across West Africa. This year the Kaolack Region's theme was Lumberjacks (ie flannel and suspenders), which brings in plenty of irony in that PCVs are supposed to (and do!) promote reforestation and try to discourage people from destroying trees, yet we are dressing as a profession which, when not properly monitored, actually does the opposite. The Tamba/Kedegou Regions are cavemen (PC B.C.) and had by far the best costumes of the weekend (animal prints, bones, and messy hair, it's awesome!). Unfortunately, the Kaolack Region did not have as good of a showing as last year (3rd place with a trophy!), but we still had fun and played some good ball (esp superstars Chris P and Danielle S!). Enjoyable and nice not to have quite as many games as last year (4 as opposed to last year's 7), which made for a more relaxed WAIST.


Another aspect of WAIST, which people who know me know is not quite my thing, is the ridiculous party scene. Last year I felt like I had to go out every night and thus barely slept, but this year was much more chill and I only went out when I wanted to and was much friendlier and more rested. One party, however, was especially important to my Stage because for many of us, it was the realization of a lifelong dream: spontaneously breaking out into a choreographed Bollywood-style dance routine. Think Slumdog Millionaire meets Glee (which I just saw for the 1st time and LOVE!). I have always wanted to be at a dance and out of nowhere, everyone around breaks into a choreographed dance routine, and that's what we did! Yes! At midnight, without telling anyone except the DJ what was going on, we managed to clear the dance floor and absolutely rock it! Probably about 18 or so of us participated in the dancing and we just had soooo much fun! (There will be pictures on picasa, though they are kind of dark. I also tried having a video recording of it, but it was too dark, sadness!)

Fancy snapping

Dancing daggers! (that's me in the maroon dress)

Something particularly interesting/enjoyable was the reaction many people had to MY dancing (and not just in our routine). While some people in my Stage know that I like to dance and have seen me do so on occassion, most haven't and were quite surprised. Even more so, a large portion of the Kaolack Region were surprised and made their amazement known (not just during our dance number, but any other time they saw me dancing during the weekend). I guess most of the last year, I've been so stressed with projects and grad school applications, that I haven't been able to have fun and just loosen up and dance before this weekend. Quite fun. :)



Well, I'm headed back to the village the day after tomorrow. I have to regulate some things with the fencing for the women's garden (either there was an error measuring or the hardware store cheated us a few meters of length per roll), as it turns out the 15 rolls was not sufficient (I only calculated needing 14, but bought a 15th just in case...) and we are 22m short, so I have to order/buy some more. I spent an hour today just looking at my planner and kind of freaking out about how fast time is flying here and how much I still want to do, while at the same time realizing I won't be able to do everything or see everywhere that I would like to. Shame. I'll have been gone almost 2 weeks though, so I need to get back. First, however, I need to print TONS of pictures from the peer educator training and buy some stuff for my host family. I'm not sure what the rest of the week will hold apart from a lot of gardening, but I really need to get back to finishing the Serere dictionary and do some follow-up on the training from January. My paperwork pile is growing as my COS date draws near, so that's another thing I need to start working on. I had hoped to get some done this weekend, but alas.



My replacement and her Stage arrive in Senegal in about 3 weeks, weird and exciting!