My days here are filled with highs and lows. Take yesterday, for instance. I woke up after a beautiful night’s sleep, the first night, in fact, that I did not wake up at least once during the night. My morning went smoothly – I tried powdered milk (I have never seen non-powdered milk here) in my coffee for the first time and loved it, the temperature outside was not overwhelmingly hot, I decided to wear one of my favorite dresses, etc. I left my house quite cheerful, making sure to say “Bonjour” to everyone I passed, until a bus flew by me and covered me in dirt and sand and made me inhale a cloud of exhaust fumes. I suddenly became very grumpy; I was dirty, my eyes burned, and my lungs just had to deal with all that carbon monoxide. When I arrived to campus, I had a Wolof quiz, which it turns out that I was well prepared for, so that lightened my mood. I discovered a patisserie fairly close to campus, which also made me happy. Then it stormed a lot, leaving the roads really muddy, making the walk home quite messy. Soso left food on the table for me for dinner since she wasn’t going to be home. It was a plate of vegetables with bread and a container of this funky dressing that she often gives to me. It was the first time that I actually saw the container so I decided to read what it actually consisted of. And that is when I had a vegetarian crisis. The first two ingredients had the word “porc” in them. I ran to my dictionary to make sure I had the translation correct, and sadly I did: pig throat and pig liver. Confronted with the reality that I had been eating sauce composed of pig juice, I began to freak out. I thought I was going to be sick as I looked down at all the food that I had covered in this stuff. Not knowing how to begin to react to the situation, I called my friend Emma, who reminded me that people reuse containers all the time and it was probably some kind of mustard-based dressing that was put in an old container. I realized she was probably correct and proceeded to eat the rest of the vegetables that had not touched the questionable dressing.
When the temperature exceeds 40 degrees (Celcius, of course), I find that my brain ceases to function properly. Such was the case Friday afternoon as I ran around downtown Dakar trying to find a bank that would cash travelers’ cheques. Word of advice: NEVER bring travelers’ cheques to Senegal. When I finally found the bank that I called ahead of time that definitely would take them, I discovered that banks close early on Fridays, and I was five minutes too late. After miserably failing on my quest to cash the cheques, I somehow managed to smack my head on the roof of the taxi I was trying to get in.
The next day, when I turned on the faucet, no water came out. Soso informed me that none of the water in our neighborhood would be working that day. Thus, I decided to go to the beach with my friend Ariel, who also did not have water. We arrived at the beach to find heat waves rising off the sand. All attempts to apply sunscreen were futile, as I was so insanely sweaty that none would stick. As we cooled off in the ocean, some sheep herders came to wash their sheep off in the water… right next to us. I can now boast that I have gone swimming with sheep. The sheep did not look too pleased to be in the water, though.
The general respect for animals is pretty low here. One of the students was taking a taxi back from a club with some of his host siblings when the cab driver hit a goat and then kept driving as though nothing happened. Apparently none of the other passengers thought anything of it either. Another one of the students was walking past a Maribout (a type of spiritual leader)’s house, where three camels were in process of being sacrificed. Even the dogs that have collars are really skinny and wander around the streets. I think of my dog at home in the US that eats baby carrots for treats and only drinks water from certain faucets. The contrast between the two really makes the way Americans treat their pets look comical. And then there is the Muslim holiday (I forget the name) where each family sacrifices a sheep. While I initially was hoping to have a Muslim family so I could learn more about the culture/religion, I am quite thankful that Soso is Catholic and does not have a sheep waiting. Apparently some families here give their students the honor of being the sacrificer, or at least being part of the team. I am doing my best to keep an open mind; I understand the origins of this tradition and its significance in Islam. I still think I will be hiding in my room or the library the day of this holiday, though.
On a completely different note, it has taken me until now to realize that all women here wear either wigs or hair extensions. Both Soso and Elizabeth dramatically changed their hairstyles in the same week, which caught me completely off guard. The most popular wig/hairstyle in Dakar right now seems to be the “Rihanna” wig, featuring the short hairstyle worn by the extremely popular singer, Rihanna. The Senegalese LOVE Rihanna. Her music is played everywhere from clubs, to the gas station, to the radio and TV. Everytime Soso (or anyone else) hears one of her songs, she starts humming/singing along with it. This creates a somewhat weird situation, because many people singing along do not actually speak English and do not realize how explicit the lyrics are. I have heard many stories from other students of their younger host siblings singing/rapping along with American hip hop music, dropping F-bombs left and right, completely oblivious.
The media seems to be the greatest form of American influence on Senegalese culture. The second most obvious, in my opinion, is the way people dress. Most older adults wear strictly traditional Senegalese attire, but most college-age students wear Western clothes, namely jeans and t-shirts. I have seen so many people here wear shirts with greek letters or other sorority/fraternity paraphernalia. My favorite was when a guy was wearing a shirt that said, “I love my little.” American sports teams’ logos are everywhere as well. Of course, there are tons of Obama t-shirts too.
Europe and the Middle East have their fair share of influence, too. Most products seem to be imported from those two regions. At the gas station, many of the products have only Arabic writing on them. A lot of the architecture reminds me of something that I would expect to see in the Middle East (not that I have ever been to a Middle Eastern country), probably because of all the Mosques in Dakar. We only have a few television stations at Soso’s house, and one of them is kind of like a French version of CNN, and another one has a screen that shows/says “Alxumdulilay!” (a phrase meaning “Thanks be to God/Allah!”). Most of the shows that Soso watches are Bollywood or Telemundo soap operas dubbed in French. I can’t keep a straight face watching them, but Soso takes them very seriously. I usually sit in front of the TV while reading Harry Potter in French.
Léegi léegi!
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