Apparently the end of September and October are wrought with power outages each year. So far this has proved to be true, as I have had to sit in a dark classroom on more than one occasion the past week.
Some of the other students here and I have discussed how we feel like we're in high school again in many ways. First of all, all of our classes are in one building, and we have a standard school day of class roughly 9-6 with a lunch break. We are taking all of our classes with the same group of 48 students. At the end of the day, we return to our respective families' houses. A few students even have curfews. Of course, for the first time ever I can go to a bar or buy alcohol in a store without being carded, so I'm not complaining.
I also just had delicious PIZZA from a TURKISH restaurant in SENEGAL. How is that for mixing cultures? It came with complimentary tea.
Next week is fall break. On Saturday I will be going south to the Petite Côte to a town called Mbour. Twelve of us are renting a beach house for the week. There is supposed to be a big forest with Baobabs and giraffes nearby that we hope to tour. Don't worry Dad, I will stay away from the spear-wielding chimps (See: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/6387611.stm). Otherwise, I have no idea what we are going to do.
This was not our original plan. We at first had this awesome trip to the Cassamance (a region in Southern Senegal) planned out, but then it turned out that the US State Dept "strongly discourages" travel along some of the roads we were planning to take. Whoops. Then just a few days ago a few of villages in the Cassamance were pillaged by rebels, so that was enough for the CIEE staff to nix our plan. While that is a completely understandable course of action, we each had already spent $60 on non-refundable ferry tickets to get there and back to Dakar. We decided to do something else entirely, so we looked into rental houses in Mbour. We found one that only charges 500 Euro per week and will fit 12 people, so we booked it... only to find out that we kind of took the house from another group of CIEE students who were supposed to get a special deal since they knew the guy who owned the house. So, that created some tension. Anyway, we are supposed to take a few "sept places" (taxis with seven seats) out there Saturday morning, so hopefully everything goes well. This has been enough of a saga already.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Toubab Dialaw
This past weekend we went to a small village two hours south of Dakar called Toubab Dialaw for a field trip of sorts. This is the first place in Senegal outside of Dakar that I have traveled to, so I was quite excited to see the landscape change from the bustling city to tranquil savannahs filled with baobabs. We arrived in the village and set up our things in this resort that reminded me very much so of a summer camp. This resort was right on the beach (it seems like the ocean just happens to be everywhere in Senegal), so although the weather was very hot, we had a nice ocean breeze. The waves were very powerful – so powerful that I got knocked around a few times and had to get out of the water. The ocean seems so much saltier here; I can float with very little effort, and my entire sinus cavity is on fire after a few hours of beach time. At this resort/camp, I took a batik class, which consists of painting wax on fabric and then dying that fabric to make cool designs. At night there was a professional Guinean drumming and dance group who performed. They invited the audience to dance and play some games with them. They had a contest to see who could do the splits the farthest, and although I have not attempted a split in a long time, I went for it and fell right into it (I surprisingly was not in pain the next day, either). There were a few vendors there, and one woman walked up to me with a scarf and started wrapping my head with it. I tried to back away, but then she pulled a mirror up to me, and I actually really liked the way the head wrap looked, so I decided to get it and wear it for the rest of the day. The food was absolutely amazing. The restaurant served vegetarian mafe, which is a type of sauce with peanut butter, tomatoes, and other vegetables. This probably sounds like a bad combination, but trust me when I say it is delicious. I saw my first sunset since coming to Senegal, which reminded me a lot of the Lion King (if anyone reading this knows the image I am talking about); the sun seemed to grow in size and it turned a radiant red as it set over the water. We stargazed on an overlook of the beach while listening to the rhythmic tumbling of the waves. The immensity of the ocean paired with the infinitude of the night sky made me feel so small, but in a good way; this reminded me that I am just one person and that there are forces much greater than myself in this universe.
After a very self-reflecting weekend, I came back to Soso’s house feeling gross and wanting nothing more than to take a shower. As I walked in the door, I noticed that Soso had company over. Soso exclaimed her gratitude that I returned home and told me that I looked very pretty. I have no idea why she said this - I was still wearing my bathing suit with a beachy dress, my hair had not been washed in days, and I was sunburnt. She motioned for me to turn in a circle, so I did so, and she just laughed and told me I looked good. Maybe it was sarcasm that I didn’t pick up on, or maybe she just happened to like that specific dress. Either way, this continues to affirm that Soso can always provide a good laugh.
While the power goes out all the time on campus, last night was the first time it went out in my house. Unfortunately it happened to do so right as I was covered in soap in the shower. I stood there in the pitch-black bathroom for a minute, wondering how to proceed, when Soso knocked on the door and gave me a lantern. The water is not run by electricity, so I was able to finish my shower by candlelight. When I went to go to sleep, I realized that my fan would not work. I managed to fall asleep only to wake up an hour later soaking wet with sweat. I fell asleep and woke up again. I thought to myself, “This is not going to work.” I sat in my bed and stared at the wall for a little while, wondering how I would kill the remaining six hours of the night, when suddenly the electricity turned back on. I said a big ALXUMDULILAY, turned my fan on, and went back to sleep.
Other news:
I started dance classes last Thursday. This is probably the most exercise I have gotten since coming to Senegal, so I was extremely sore the next day.
After feeling quite underwhelmed by the amount of homework involved with my classes here, I finally have some work to do. Being the nerd I am, academic success makes me very happy. I did very well on my first Wolof quiz, so I hope that the two papers I have worked on the past week will also go smoothly.
I finished the third Harry Potter book, and now I’m onto reading the fourth installment (in French): La Coupe de Feu. I am spending more time than ever reading.
I joined the “Language partnership club” on campus, and I will be meeting with my language partner for the first time this afternoon. Basically, she wants to improve her English, and I want to improve my French, so we take turns speaking in each other’s languages. I hope it goes well.
Yesterday’s realization: it will be very difficult to go back to the United States (particularly the 70% female American University), where I am not constantly referred to as, “Belle fille.” Even though I have only spent five weeks here so far, I have felt a surge of self-confidence. Being outside of my comfort zone and inside a very foreign place has allowed me to grow as a person. The general nature of the Senegalese is much more accepting than American culture. Even though I physically stick out because of my skin color, I am not judged because of my size or the way I dress (except that one time during Ramadan I wore shorts, but that was poor decision making on my part). If my hair is particularly frizzy and/or I do not wear makeup one day, people do not regard me differently for it. The only time people ever judge me is when vendors assume I have tons of money and continue to follow me around selling stuff.
Yesterday’s other realization: a sense of direction is not something one can learn; it is something one is either born with or without. Sadly, I fall into the latter category. I still get lost in my own neighborhood. Some of the other students don’t let me walk home alone at night (although I try to avoid that in the first place as it isn’t the smartest idea). My neighbor even recognized me and told me I was walking the wrong way. At least my first reflex is no longer to check my GPS… THAT was a complete eye-opener the first couple times getting lost. I promise I’m not as high-maintenance as I probably sound.
After a very self-reflecting weekend, I came back to Soso’s house feeling gross and wanting nothing more than to take a shower. As I walked in the door, I noticed that Soso had company over. Soso exclaimed her gratitude that I returned home and told me that I looked very pretty. I have no idea why she said this - I was still wearing my bathing suit with a beachy dress, my hair had not been washed in days, and I was sunburnt. She motioned for me to turn in a circle, so I did so, and she just laughed and told me I looked good. Maybe it was sarcasm that I didn’t pick up on, or maybe she just happened to like that specific dress. Either way, this continues to affirm that Soso can always provide a good laugh.
While the power goes out all the time on campus, last night was the first time it went out in my house. Unfortunately it happened to do so right as I was covered in soap in the shower. I stood there in the pitch-black bathroom for a minute, wondering how to proceed, when Soso knocked on the door and gave me a lantern. The water is not run by electricity, so I was able to finish my shower by candlelight. When I went to go to sleep, I realized that my fan would not work. I managed to fall asleep only to wake up an hour later soaking wet with sweat. I fell asleep and woke up again. I thought to myself, “This is not going to work.” I sat in my bed and stared at the wall for a little while, wondering how I would kill the remaining six hours of the night, when suddenly the electricity turned back on. I said a big ALXUMDULILAY, turned my fan on, and went back to sleep.
Other news:
I started dance classes last Thursday. This is probably the most exercise I have gotten since coming to Senegal, so I was extremely sore the next day.
After feeling quite underwhelmed by the amount of homework involved with my classes here, I finally have some work to do. Being the nerd I am, academic success makes me very happy. I did very well on my first Wolof quiz, so I hope that the two papers I have worked on the past week will also go smoothly.
I finished the third Harry Potter book, and now I’m onto reading the fourth installment (in French): La Coupe de Feu. I am spending more time than ever reading.
I joined the “Language partnership club” on campus, and I will be meeting with my language partner for the first time this afternoon. Basically, she wants to improve her English, and I want to improve my French, so we take turns speaking in each other’s languages. I hope it goes well.
Yesterday’s realization: it will be very difficult to go back to the United States (particularly the 70% female American University), where I am not constantly referred to as, “Belle fille.” Even though I have only spent five weeks here so far, I have felt a surge of self-confidence. Being outside of my comfort zone and inside a very foreign place has allowed me to grow as a person. The general nature of the Senegalese is much more accepting than American culture. Even though I physically stick out because of my skin color, I am not judged because of my size or the way I dress (except that one time during Ramadan I wore shorts, but that was poor decision making on my part). If my hair is particularly frizzy and/or I do not wear makeup one day, people do not regard me differently for it. The only time people ever judge me is when vendors assume I have tons of money and continue to follow me around selling stuff.
Yesterday’s other realization: a sense of direction is not something one can learn; it is something one is either born with or without. Sadly, I fall into the latter category. I still get lost in my own neighborhood. Some of the other students don’t let me walk home alone at night (although I try to avoid that in the first place as it isn’t the smartest idea). My neighbor even recognized me and told me I was walking the wrong way. At least my first reflex is no longer to check my GPS… THAT was a complete eye-opener the first couple times getting lost. I promise I’m not as high-maintenance as I probably sound.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Les filles qui nagent avec les moutons
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!
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!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Les nouvelles
As I am in a completely new culture, I keep referring back to the culture shock curve so dutifully taught to SIS majors in the class Cross-Cultural Communication. I am definitely past the “honeymoon” period, where everything is exciting just because it is new. I am pretty sure that I hit the bottom when I was sick and in the events leading up to when I was sick, because everything was just so frustrating and I really just wanted to be out of the foreign and into the familiar again. Now, I would say I am back on the rise. I have really accepted the fact that Whole Foods and Starbucks will not be in my life for the next few months, and that prospect does not seem so scary anymore. I have started to form a daily routine, which is important for me, no matter where I am. I have even started to appreciate the lack of internet, it keeps me from constantly being on my computer and checking Facebook. Soso is awesome and is super chill about everything.
There are a few things that still bother me, such as the fact that vendors here always try to make me pay three times more than what something actually costs. On Sunday a few of us went to Sandaga, which is the major downtown market in Dakar. We were in a fabric shop, and the owner of the store tried to charge me over 30,000 CFA ($60) for two sarongs and a piece of fabric. I knew that there was no way that the stuff was worth that much, and I managed to get the price down to 12,000 CFA (about $24). I know that that was still too much to pay for those items, but it took five minutes of negotiating to get the price that low and I was quite frustrated.
Everyone here cannot wait for the rainy season to be over. This is the hottest time of year, and the rain makes the air much more humid and everything dirtier. This is also the time of the year when mosquitoes are most vicious, and through my personal observation they seem to be getting worse each day.
For my internship/community service seminar class I will be working with an organization called the Centre Internationale pour la Promotion du Leadership Féminin (CIPFEM). This organization was started by CIEE students a few years ago and continues to be led by students. I will be dedicating one day a week to tutoring/mentoring local girls and helping carry out projects promoting leadership for girls in schools in the area. I’m really excited to start working with this organization. My entire freshman year of college I worked with D.C. Reads, where I mentored three seventh grade girls. I’m curious to see how my work with CIPFEM will relate and differ from D.C. Reads. Education is a pivotal element of international development, so I hope that this will allow me to learn much more about the field. I start next Friday.
I will also be starting African dance classes soon! I learned about African dance in one of my classes, Dance and Society, last semester, and I’ve seen it performed a few times. It looks so fun, and I cannot wait to take these classes.
Anyway, that's my update. Ba beneen yoon!
There are a few things that still bother me, such as the fact that vendors here always try to make me pay three times more than what something actually costs. On Sunday a few of us went to Sandaga, which is the major downtown market in Dakar. We were in a fabric shop, and the owner of the store tried to charge me over 30,000 CFA ($60) for two sarongs and a piece of fabric. I knew that there was no way that the stuff was worth that much, and I managed to get the price down to 12,000 CFA (about $24). I know that that was still too much to pay for those items, but it took five minutes of negotiating to get the price that low and I was quite frustrated.
Everyone here cannot wait for the rainy season to be over. This is the hottest time of year, and the rain makes the air much more humid and everything dirtier. This is also the time of the year when mosquitoes are most vicious, and through my personal observation they seem to be getting worse each day.
For my internship/community service seminar class I will be working with an organization called the Centre Internationale pour la Promotion du Leadership Féminin (CIPFEM). This organization was started by CIEE students a few years ago and continues to be led by students. I will be dedicating one day a week to tutoring/mentoring local girls and helping carry out projects promoting leadership for girls in schools in the area. I’m really excited to start working with this organization. My entire freshman year of college I worked with D.C. Reads, where I mentored three seventh grade girls. I’m curious to see how my work with CIPFEM will relate and differ from D.C. Reads. Education is a pivotal element of international development, so I hope that this will allow me to learn much more about the field. I start next Friday.
I will also be starting African dance classes soon! I learned about African dance in one of my classes, Dance and Society, last semester, and I’ve seen it performed a few times. It looks so fun, and I cannot wait to take these classes.
Anyway, that's my update. Ba beneen yoon!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Une semaine difficile.
One thing that I seriously underestimated before coming to Senegal was how seriously my health would be affected. When I did not experience jet lag in teh first few days of being here, I thought that I was in the clear and could adapt to anything. I was wrong. The dramatic change in climate, the high level of pollution here, new foods, exposure to questionably safe water, insects carrying tropical diseases, and a somewhat different sleep schedule all have affected me so far. The Senegalese take cleanliness inside their homes very seriously. Any dirt on the floor is immediately swept up, we never eat without tablecloths, and everyone bathes twice a day (generally). Outside of the houses, it is the opposite. Garbage is thrown anywhere, many cars have black exhaust fumes billowing out of them, stray cats and dogs run around, and, thanks to it being the rainy season, everything is muddy. Dakar is still a beautiful city though, with the beaches and flowers and bright fabrics. All the food that Soso has cooked me has been delicious, but I'm really starting to miss American food. The lack of fruit and plethora of white bread and white rice tends to completely halt one's digestive system. Thankfully there are fruit stands everywhere, and fruit is relatively inexpensive.
At the start of my third week here, I noticed that I was starting to feel a little off. I had an immense fatigue that would not go away, even though I was getting at least nine hours of sleep a night. I also was constantly hungry and exceptionally irritable. On Wednesday morning I woke up with a migraine and a fever, which I stupidly decided to fight, so I walked to campus only to feel worse when I arrived. Realizing that I had all the initial symptoms of malaria (headache, fever, chills, fatigue), I started to panic. I went to my Wolof class, which was an equally stupid decision, because I am one of five students and the class is entirely formed off student participation. I became dizzier, colder, and my stomach started to cramp up so much that I was soon hunched over my desk. As soon as we took our mid-class break, I asked the professor if I could leave. I went to the CIEE office on campus where Serigne, the director, called a doctor for me. Thankfully the doctor came to meet me there, where she gave me a prescription and told me to get a malaria test the next morning. Unfortunately the doctor did not speak any English and had insanely messy handwriting, so I had to rely on my shaky French to understand the dosages for each of the five medications. The people at the pharmacy were absolutely no help, either. I have never experienced a more frustrating language barrier... I felt horrible, and all I wanted to do was cry and hide because I could not think clearly and could not understand what anyone was telling me. As soon as I got home, I was already throwing up profusely with a case of diarrhea I did not even know was humanly possible. Thus, for the next 48 hours, I ran back and forth between my bedroom and the bathroom (there is only one bathroom in the house) constantly. My entire abdomen had insane cramps that left me in severe pain. I had not felt that miserable since I got hit by a truck two summers ago. I was contemplating popping a percoset or two and calling in a time-out for a few hours, but then I was afraid that I would be mixing too many medications. Thankfully, the antibiotics kicked in and my abdominal cramps started to lessen. Unfortunately I then realized how dehydrated I was, which left me in bed for another two days because I was too dizzy and weak to walk around or go anywhere. All the while, Soso nonchalantly kept telling me, "Eat, drink, sleep, and take your medicine." This really frustrated me at first, but then she proceeded to tell me that all students get sick at some point (she had already seen this episode played out eight times).
Anyway, I just finished One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Marcia Marquez and it is now one my favorite books. Now I'm going to read the next installment of Harry Potter in French: Le Prisonnier d'Azkaban. I also decided to drop one of my classes, Reglement des Crises, and instead take an African literature class. I love this class so much, it feels like a book club.
Also, I finally got back the results of the malaria test. I'm pretty sure it is negative, I can't really understand what it says, it is all graphs and percentages and that. It does say "Negative" in one place, and I feel fine now, so I will assume that I just had some weird gastro-intestinal bug, because I'm not sick anymore.
At the start of my third week here, I noticed that I was starting to feel a little off. I had an immense fatigue that would not go away, even though I was getting at least nine hours of sleep a night. I also was constantly hungry and exceptionally irritable. On Wednesday morning I woke up with a migraine and a fever, which I stupidly decided to fight, so I walked to campus only to feel worse when I arrived. Realizing that I had all the initial symptoms of malaria (headache, fever, chills, fatigue), I started to panic. I went to my Wolof class, which was an equally stupid decision, because I am one of five students and the class is entirely formed off student participation. I became dizzier, colder, and my stomach started to cramp up so much that I was soon hunched over my desk. As soon as we took our mid-class break, I asked the professor if I could leave. I went to the CIEE office on campus where Serigne, the director, called a doctor for me. Thankfully the doctor came to meet me there, where she gave me a prescription and told me to get a malaria test the next morning. Unfortunately the doctor did not speak any English and had insanely messy handwriting, so I had to rely on my shaky French to understand the dosages for each of the five medications. The people at the pharmacy were absolutely no help, either. I have never experienced a more frustrating language barrier... I felt horrible, and all I wanted to do was cry and hide because I could not think clearly and could not understand what anyone was telling me. As soon as I got home, I was already throwing up profusely with a case of diarrhea I did not even know was humanly possible. Thus, for the next 48 hours, I ran back and forth between my bedroom and the bathroom (there is only one bathroom in the house) constantly. My entire abdomen had insane cramps that left me in severe pain. I had not felt that miserable since I got hit by a truck two summers ago. I was contemplating popping a percoset or two and calling in a time-out for a few hours, but then I was afraid that I would be mixing too many medications. Thankfully, the antibiotics kicked in and my abdominal cramps started to lessen. Unfortunately I then realized how dehydrated I was, which left me in bed for another two days because I was too dizzy and weak to walk around or go anywhere. All the while, Soso nonchalantly kept telling me, "Eat, drink, sleep, and take your medicine." This really frustrated me at first, but then she proceeded to tell me that all students get sick at some point (she had already seen this episode played out eight times).
Anyway, I just finished One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Marcia Marquez and it is now one my favorite books. Now I'm going to read the next installment of Harry Potter in French: Le Prisonnier d'Azkaban. I also decided to drop one of my classes, Reglement des Crises, and instead take an African literature class. I love this class so much, it feels like a book club.
Also, I finally got back the results of the malaria test. I'm pretty sure it is negative, I can't really understand what it says, it is all graphs and percentages and that. It does say "Negative" in one place, and I feel fine now, so I will assume that I just had some weird gastro-intestinal bug, because I'm not sick anymore.
Monday, September 6, 2010
L'institut français, l'île Gorée, et la discotheque
Thursday evening I went to the Centre Culturel Français in downtown Dakar for a wine and cheese soirée. Although I did not meet the European ex-patriot man of my dreams (it is going to happen), I did become friends with some cool Belgians. The atmosphere of this bar/restaurant was so classy; it was kind of like a giant tent with small lights (like Christmas lights) everywhere. After some brie and few glasses of rosé, I found my ability to speak French dramatically improve. We managed to fit six people in a taxi going home.
Taxis here are quite different from those in the US. First of all, they do not have meters - you have to negotiate the price with the driver before getting in the cab. That said, it is not uncommon to talk to three different cab drivers before getting in a taxi. Also, if you want to go to a somewhat obscure location or someone's house, you are responsible for giving directions to the driver. Coming home is generally easy, because most cabs know "ENEA" (the name of my school's campus - I am within walking distance of it). Going from campus is a little trickier. Secondly, the safety of taxis is very questionable. Every taxi I've taken so far has had a cracked windshield and no seatbelts. Since the roads in general do not have any traffic signals, many drivers will go whatever speed, drive into the oncoming lane, or go off-roading as necessary. Of course, taxis are not the only method of transportation. Car rapides and buses are abundant, but one should be prepared to surrender all previous reservations of personal space before boarding one. Also, I've heard many more stories of people being robbed or pickpocketed on public transportation than in taxis, and it is much easier to get lost. And then the third major difference is that one does not need to hail a taxi here. Every single taxi (and there are a lot of them) will pull over for a toubab walking down the street. This gets pretty obnoxious, but it has come in handy due to the crazy tropical weather that goes from sunny to pouring rain in less than a minute.
Friday morning I got my hair braided. It took almost three hours, but it only cost me 10,000 CFA ($20, less than a hair cut!) and will save me from dealing with my hair for a while. September is supposedly the hottest month of the year here, and these braids are cooling off my head immensely. Most Senegalese women have braided hair, and everyone here gets a kick out of a white girl/toubab with "tresses." The woman braiding my hair did a fantastic job; I had no idea my hair was even capable of holding these braids. It does kind of feel like I got botox because my hair is pulled back so tight and I could hardly move my eyebrows at first, but ultimately it was so worth it.
That evening I gave Soso the snow globe I bought in DC. She thought it was very nice, but when I shook it so that all the little sparkles flew up, she loved it and did not stop shaking it for the next half hour.
We had a field trip to Gorée Island on Saturday. This island, just off the coast of Dakar, was used as a port for slaves during the era of Atlantic slave trade. Gorée is something of a paradox. It is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen - the colorful buildings and old fashioned architecture, the impossibly bright tropical flowers and plants, the cobblestone roads and the way the hills make everything fall right into place - it all seems so perfect. That perfection fades when Gorée's brutal history of slave trade is taken into account. We walked through the "Maison des Esclaves" (House of slaves), where captured people were imprisoned until they were shipped to the Americas. We saw the "door of no return," which was the door that connected the ship to the house/prison. The Masion des Esclaves really put substance to everything I've read in history books. It made me wonder how a group of people, European colonizers, could possibly consider an entire race as subhuman for material gain. Another not-so-great element of Gorée was that we had people following us and trying to sell us stuff literally the entire time we were there. I really liked the market, which had lots of artwork, fabric, and jewelry, but since the place is so touristy a lot of the prices were really high. When I would ask the price of something, the vendor would initially say the price in Euros, and all the vendors were surprised to hear that I actually had the local currency, CFAs. They asked me if I was Canadian, which I found hilarious. By the end of the day I was incredibly irritable from the heat/sun and people constantly following me.
That night a group of us went to a bar/discotheque. As I was walking out of my house to leave, Soso and Elizabeth told me that I could not wear a pair of flip flops, that I had to wear heels. I shuddered at the thought of trying to walk through mud and uneven ground in heels, but for the sake of appeasing them I wore the heels. The bar area was beautiful, it was a giant outdoor patio full of tropical plants and tiny lights. The discotheque ended up being the exact same thing as any club in DC, except for the fact that a lot of the men actually knew how to partner/ballroom dance. Women in the discotheque were wearing even skimpier outfits than American girls at clubs in the US. There were still a lot of creepers though, and I'm going to maintain my opinion that clubbing is just not my thing.
I ran into a problem Sunday morning: I wanted to be alone. Although I have my own room, Elizabeth gives me a somewhat hard time when I hang out in my room and she knows I am not sleeping. If I go anywhere outside of the house, I will constantly have people coming up to me and talking to me or trying to sell me things. There is no equivalent of a Starbucks here, and even if there was, I would not be able to do hw or read there in peace because I stick out and therefore am a target. I also realized that I had not had a good workout once since getting to Senegal, so I called two friends and asked them if they would like to go for a long walk. Soso had a few friends over, and as I was getting ready to leave they told me that I shouldn't exercise because then I would lose weight. Soso also offered me a glass of beer right before I left. Alyssa, Emma, and I walked to a giant statue called the statue of the African Renaissance, and definitely walked at least five miles round trip in the process. I was wearing shorts, and even though I was clearly in exercise attire with gym shoes and such, women everywhere were staring daggers into me. These were not even short shorts, these were long, athletic shorts. I really hope that it is just because of Ramadan, which ends on the ninth.
Taxis here are quite different from those in the US. First of all, they do not have meters - you have to negotiate the price with the driver before getting in the cab. That said, it is not uncommon to talk to three different cab drivers before getting in a taxi. Also, if you want to go to a somewhat obscure location or someone's house, you are responsible for giving directions to the driver. Coming home is generally easy, because most cabs know "ENEA" (the name of my school's campus - I am within walking distance of it). Going from campus is a little trickier. Secondly, the safety of taxis is very questionable. Every taxi I've taken so far has had a cracked windshield and no seatbelts. Since the roads in general do not have any traffic signals, many drivers will go whatever speed, drive into the oncoming lane, or go off-roading as necessary. Of course, taxis are not the only method of transportation. Car rapides and buses are abundant, but one should be prepared to surrender all previous reservations of personal space before boarding one. Also, I've heard many more stories of people being robbed or pickpocketed on public transportation than in taxis, and it is much easier to get lost. And then the third major difference is that one does not need to hail a taxi here. Every single taxi (and there are a lot of them) will pull over for a toubab walking down the street. This gets pretty obnoxious, but it has come in handy due to the crazy tropical weather that goes from sunny to pouring rain in less than a minute.
Friday morning I got my hair braided. It took almost three hours, but it only cost me 10,000 CFA ($20, less than a hair cut!) and will save me from dealing with my hair for a while. September is supposedly the hottest month of the year here, and these braids are cooling off my head immensely. Most Senegalese women have braided hair, and everyone here gets a kick out of a white girl/toubab with "tresses." The woman braiding my hair did a fantastic job; I had no idea my hair was even capable of holding these braids. It does kind of feel like I got botox because my hair is pulled back so tight and I could hardly move my eyebrows at first, but ultimately it was so worth it.
That evening I gave Soso the snow globe I bought in DC. She thought it was very nice, but when I shook it so that all the little sparkles flew up, she loved it and did not stop shaking it for the next half hour.
We had a field trip to Gorée Island on Saturday. This island, just off the coast of Dakar, was used as a port for slaves during the era of Atlantic slave trade. Gorée is something of a paradox. It is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen - the colorful buildings and old fashioned architecture, the impossibly bright tropical flowers and plants, the cobblestone roads and the way the hills make everything fall right into place - it all seems so perfect. That perfection fades when Gorée's brutal history of slave trade is taken into account. We walked through the "Maison des Esclaves" (House of slaves), where captured people were imprisoned until they were shipped to the Americas. We saw the "door of no return," which was the door that connected the ship to the house/prison. The Masion des Esclaves really put substance to everything I've read in history books. It made me wonder how a group of people, European colonizers, could possibly consider an entire race as subhuman for material gain. Another not-so-great element of Gorée was that we had people following us and trying to sell us stuff literally the entire time we were there. I really liked the market, which had lots of artwork, fabric, and jewelry, but since the place is so touristy a lot of the prices were really high. When I would ask the price of something, the vendor would initially say the price in Euros, and all the vendors were surprised to hear that I actually had the local currency, CFAs. They asked me if I was Canadian, which I found hilarious. By the end of the day I was incredibly irritable from the heat/sun and people constantly following me.
That night a group of us went to a bar/discotheque. As I was walking out of my house to leave, Soso and Elizabeth told me that I could not wear a pair of flip flops, that I had to wear heels. I shuddered at the thought of trying to walk through mud and uneven ground in heels, but for the sake of appeasing them I wore the heels. The bar area was beautiful, it was a giant outdoor patio full of tropical plants and tiny lights. The discotheque ended up being the exact same thing as any club in DC, except for the fact that a lot of the men actually knew how to partner/ballroom dance. Women in the discotheque were wearing even skimpier outfits than American girls at clubs in the US. There were still a lot of creepers though, and I'm going to maintain my opinion that clubbing is just not my thing.
I ran into a problem Sunday morning: I wanted to be alone. Although I have my own room, Elizabeth gives me a somewhat hard time when I hang out in my room and she knows I am not sleeping. If I go anywhere outside of the house, I will constantly have people coming up to me and talking to me or trying to sell me things. There is no equivalent of a Starbucks here, and even if there was, I would not be able to do hw or read there in peace because I stick out and therefore am a target. I also realized that I had not had a good workout once since getting to Senegal, so I called two friends and asked them if they would like to go for a long walk. Soso had a few friends over, and as I was getting ready to leave they told me that I shouldn't exercise because then I would lose weight. Soso also offered me a glass of beer right before I left. Alyssa, Emma, and I walked to a giant statue called the statue of the African Renaissance, and definitely walked at least five miles round trip in the process. I was wearing shorts, and even though I was clearly in exercise attire with gym shoes and such, women everywhere were staring daggers into me. These were not even short shorts, these were long, athletic shorts. I really hope that it is just because of Ramadan, which ends on the ninth.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Les cours commencent
I will never take the internet for granted again. After possessing a smart phone for over a year, I have grown accustomed to having internet access anywhere at anytime. Normally, any ponderance, any question that I have will be answered in a matter of seconds. That is not the case anymore.
Classes have started. Every class I am taking is in French, so we'll have to see how this goes... Normally if I zone out in class it is not too great of a problem because I can quickly catch up. In classes taught in French, that is not so easy. The classes are twice a week at an hour and 45 minutes at a time, which is longer than I'm used to, so paying attention thus far has been difficult. Another immediate difference I've noticed is that all the professors here use the French grading system, which means that the majority of the grade is based on a final exam or paper or project. I'm used to getting mountains of reading and homework in the first week of class, but so far I've had only one homework assignment.
I've walked to school and back every day so far, which I'm estimating to be about 1.5 miles. Greeting the people you pass is considered a common courtesy here, so I say "Bonjour" to most people (or if I'm feeling bold, "Salaamaalekum"). People often look serious but with a simple hello or how are you they become very friendly. I've been asked several times why I'm walking instead of taking a taxi or a car rapide; people just don't understand why I would go through the effort of trekking it to campus. On my walk to school, I am generally accompained by a random guy who wants to talk to me (often to practice English). Usually they have never heard the name Rebecca before, so they make me repeat the name about five times. One guy actually asked me to spell it out for him because he still couldn't pronounce it. Elizabeth (from my host family) likes to say, "Rebecca!" whenever she sees me. The first few times I thought it was because she actually had something to say to me, but then I realized it is just because she likes to say it. I have always wanted an exotic name, and now I finally have one!
The roads are insane. Although the main ones are paved, many are dirt roads. There aren't any traffic signals anywhere and people are quite reckless with their driving. Pedestrians do not have the right of way or any other special rights. Since there aren't any crosswalks, J-walking is the only way to cross the street. Cars, buses, scooters, horses and buggies, and the occassional bike or two share the road. The smaller roads and alleyways between lines of houses are patrolled by stray cats and sheep. The amount of sheep in Dakar is ridiculous, and it makes me sad because most of them will be used as sacrifices to celebrate the end of Ramadan. One of the guys here has a goat in his host family's backyard, and he asked them if he could name it. They looked at him like he was crazy and said it wasn't necessary.
[Somewhat random:] Power outages are commonplace here. In class, there have been a few outages so far. I find it rather entertaining, because if the lights go out the professor does not even flinch or anything, s/he just proceeds with the lecture as though nothing has happened.
I came to a realization yesterday as I was walking to campus that I have not felt self conscious since getting to Dakar. The conservative nature of dress here definitely contributes to this, along with the fact that bigger people are considered more aesthetically pleasing. The other night, Soso made me a huge plate of carrots, potatoes, cabbages and onions. I was very full (I had already eaten probably an entire baguette that day) before I finished it, but when I got up she told me that I had to eat the entire thing. Thus, I had to sit at the table, like a little kid, until I finished the entire plate.
Classes have started. Every class I am taking is in French, so we'll have to see how this goes... Normally if I zone out in class it is not too great of a problem because I can quickly catch up. In classes taught in French, that is not so easy. The classes are twice a week at an hour and 45 minutes at a time, which is longer than I'm used to, so paying attention thus far has been difficult. Another immediate difference I've noticed is that all the professors here use the French grading system, which means that the majority of the grade is based on a final exam or paper or project. I'm used to getting mountains of reading and homework in the first week of class, but so far I've had only one homework assignment.
I've walked to school and back every day so far, which I'm estimating to be about 1.5 miles. Greeting the people you pass is considered a common courtesy here, so I say "Bonjour" to most people (or if I'm feeling bold, "Salaamaalekum"). People often look serious but with a simple hello or how are you they become very friendly. I've been asked several times why I'm walking instead of taking a taxi or a car rapide; people just don't understand why I would go through the effort of trekking it to campus. On my walk to school, I am generally accompained by a random guy who wants to talk to me (often to practice English). Usually they have never heard the name Rebecca before, so they make me repeat the name about five times. One guy actually asked me to spell it out for him because he still couldn't pronounce it. Elizabeth (from my host family) likes to say, "Rebecca!" whenever she sees me. The first few times I thought it was because she actually had something to say to me, but then I realized it is just because she likes to say it. I have always wanted an exotic name, and now I finally have one!
The roads are insane. Although the main ones are paved, many are dirt roads. There aren't any traffic signals anywhere and people are quite reckless with their driving. Pedestrians do not have the right of way or any other special rights. Since there aren't any crosswalks, J-walking is the only way to cross the street. Cars, buses, scooters, horses and buggies, and the occassional bike or two share the road. The smaller roads and alleyways between lines of houses are patrolled by stray cats and sheep. The amount of sheep in Dakar is ridiculous, and it makes me sad because most of them will be used as sacrifices to celebrate the end of Ramadan. One of the guys here has a goat in his host family's backyard, and he asked them if he could name it. They looked at him like he was crazy and said it wasn't necessary.
[Somewhat random:] Power outages are commonplace here. In class, there have been a few outages so far. I find it rather entertaining, because if the lights go out the professor does not even flinch or anything, s/he just proceeds with the lecture as though nothing has happened.
I came to a realization yesterday as I was walking to campus that I have not felt self conscious since getting to Dakar. The conservative nature of dress here definitely contributes to this, along with the fact that bigger people are considered more aesthetically pleasing. The other night, Soso made me a huge plate of carrots, potatoes, cabbages and onions. I was very full (I had already eaten probably an entire baguette that day) before I finished it, but when I got up she told me that I had to eat the entire thing. Thus, I had to sit at the table, like a little kid, until I finished the entire plate.
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