Sunday night dinner

I prepared dinner for Mady, Fatou and Mor Sunday night. Boy was I stressed because Fatou is such a good cook (I didn't want to disappoint her) and I know that their pallets are only used to a certain range of ingredients and styles of cooking. They NEVER, EVER go to restaurants and haven't once left the country. So, I was worried they might not be able to handle something too "not African". So, I made a Curry soup with kurri squash (the big orange ones) and roasted a whole chicken. In a big platter I put down spinach, put the soup on top and laid the chicken in the middle. Well, everyone was waiting in the little one room studio surely wondering “what is this toubab gonna bring us”. After some hesitant bites by all, Fahtou says “Nehrna lool” ....very delicious. Though, even if she didn't like it, she would say it was good. They had never tasted a curry sauce before so I think they were a little wierded out by the coconut taste. Folk don’t do sweet/savory dishes around these parts. But I made sure to make it with a nice level of heat (spice). And they were totally not down with all the green stuff. They had never eaten spinach before so the taste was too strong for them. Parsley and cilantro were a no go either. Basically, the only green they eat fresh is iceberg lettuce. The roasted chicken however was A HIT!!! They rarely eat that much meat in one sitting since it is so expensive. The bird came from a European grocery store (the only one). The white meat was super juicy and tender, prepared with lots of herbs and spices. They ate the whole thing... broke down and chomped away at the cavity, sucked on the bones to get all the flavor.

I picked up the wishbone and asked them if they have any beliefs about it here... They said no. I explained to them how we do it: two people each grab one end and make a wish, once you pull and it breaks, whoever has the largest piece gets their wish. Fatou's eyes got real big... "ooooohhhh". I wasn't expecting her to take it so literally but I guess I should have known better in such a superstitious country. So at the end of the meal she and I took the wish bone and Fatou ended up with the bigger piece. She throws her hands up in the air with joy. Then she gets serious, and says in wolof, "I wish to be pregnant before the year 2007, and if I have a girl her name will be Liliane". Mady translates, I say, “ooohhhhh that is such a big honor, dejedieuf! (thankyou)” . Fatou is 36 and they've been trying for a baby for 18 years. Mor is Mady's brother's son. Inner family adoptions are super common here. Anyway, the whole thing was very touching. Mady got so excited that he decided we had to celebrate with some drinks... Coke or Fanta, whichever you like! These sweet drinks are serious luxuries for the family since usually no frivolous spending is allowed. After several rounds of chin chinning Mady gets serious. Liliane, I have been here for 20 years, Fatou has been here with me for 18 years and this is the VERY first time that anyone from the AFVP has cooked for us. The French, they are nice people, they have been good to us, but HIP HIP HURRAY for the Americans! I'm calling the embassy to tell them! LOL. It was a fun night.

In other news, I'm taking off tomorrow for a one week trip throughout Senegal. I'll be way up in the north for a few days (St.Louis) and then to a small village on the western border (Matam). The first stop is for a comité de liaison, a get together of all the volunteers in Senegal, and then off to Matam to discuss the possibility of a volunteer working with an association out there. It will be good to see outside of the big capital… get away from the pollution. I am sure I’ll come back with loads of interesting experiences and a camera full of shots to share…

Post Office

Last week I decided it was time to go out on my own, find a post office and mail a small something to my chéri. During my lunch break, I resolutely march out across the huge sand field towards the VDN. The VDN is a big bustling highway with a wide dirt strip separating the two directions. There is a constant frenzy of taxis, buses and vans rapidly stopping, picking up a few passengers and zooming off again. I suppose the Senegalese government decided maintenance is not a priority seeing that traffic lights are all non-operational and the long row of light poles haven’t worked for who knows how long.

The post office is directly across the VDN. As I approach, running across random goat legs (hoof and hair still in tack), I try to figure out what will be my technique. Mad chaos, constant lines of vehicles are buzzing by and I know as soon as I get close to the road I’ll get mobbed by hungry taxi drivers. Ahhh, I know, I’ll pretend like I’m with those 11 year olds about to make the fatal sprint. 12 minutes or so later, we all make it over to the other side. I continue across yet another field of dirt… aaahkk! wind blows orange dust in my eyes, nose, and mouth. And what is going on? More random goat legs! Maybe they are in fact mouton legs, left over from the ceremonial practices of the Islamic New Year celebrations. I scurry towards the big building with the enormous sign: POST. Hmmmmm… I only see Western Union tellers inside. I walk outside, walk around to see if I missed the entrance. Nope. I look for stairs, maybe it’s on the second floor. Nope. I walk back in and ask the man sitting calmly in the hallway preparing the traditional 3-service tea on pieces of coal.

“Sir, could you tell me where the post office is?”
“The post office?” (long silence) “…the post office has not started yet.”
“You mean it is still closed for lunch?”
(looking down, visibly a little embarrassed) “No, we haven’t got it going yet.”
Oh…huh. (starring up at the large sign)

I ask him where I can find the closest functional post office. I don’t understand his broken french, so after thanking him, I head out, exasperated, as I look on towards the daunting obstacle ahead.

Post Office: Part TWO

Next day, during lunch break I am once again determined to find a way to mail my envelope out to my sweetheart. The secretary tells me exactly where to tell the taxi to go. I have to catch one on the other side of the VDN. Ugh! After some price haggling (that’s right, I’m not gonna get cheated out of my 40 cents!), I jump in and he speeds off. Pictures of famous imams are plastered all over the dashboard. The taxi is like all the others, disturbingly loud and rickety. You literally feel like if one screw came out, the whole thing would just collapse. A friend told me that junk cars have become such a problem that a recent law makes it illegal to import cars older than 5 years old. It’s probably a good idea since there in an inordinate amount of private taxi cars racing around, spewing out dark trails of carbon monoxide, just trying to make a few bucks. The only positive is that the huge supply keeps taxi fairs really low… To go all the way to the other end of town, a 25-30 minute ride, it is about $4.

At the post office, Senegalese crowd the teller windows… One is open and no one seems to notice so I approach and give a big smile to the rather large woman sitting at her computer behind the glass. "Salaam Malakoum!" She pauses, glances up at me only long enough to give me a "can't you see you are bothering me" look. "Umm… aheem, I would like to know the price to mail this to the United States?" After a few minutes of disinterested tapping on her keyboard she grabs my envelope, throws it on the scale. "It depends, how you want to mail it." "Well, can you please tell me the different prices?" Big roll of the eyes. She talks to a colleague for a while (probably making snide comments about the needy toubab) and eventually gets around to mumbling some prices. "Sorry, what was that?" Another big roll of the eyes. After not understanding a third time I ask her to just send it regular airmail. Whew, finally mission accomplished.

*** note to reader: this is the first and only time in Dakar that I’ve dealt with such an unhelpful person. I don’t understand how post offices all over the world all seem to find and hire the most miserable people!

MORE NOTES TO SELF:

1. La Case is not like home, ALWAYS use caution before sitting on the toilet seat.

2. You can love spicy all you want, but it ain’t ever gonna love you! In order to avoid further toilet drama, stay away from the neighborhood restaurant that only seems to know only one way to cook food, extremely hot!

3. To deal with the bombardment of male solicitations: “lovely gazelle, what is your name!”, “Charmante, where are you from?”, MEMORIZE the phrase “AM NAA JEKERE…” I have a husband!

4. Children screaming “FOTO, FOTO” doesn’t necessarily mean they just want to be in a picture, but rather that they will expect compensation. tug, tug: “200 Francs Madame! 100 Francs!” tug, tug “Bonbons?!”

5. Furthermore, just learn to accept and ignore kids running around you. “toubab, toubab, toubab, toubab…” As if they were calling a pet over to play.

6. Regularly look over Wolof book. You will not learn the language through osmosis. Mastering a few small phrases will help you out in sticky situations.

7. Though you are now far away from the Parisian poohp side-walk obstacle course, do not lose vigilance! Careless steps here could land you in to a big pile of horse or mule dung!

8. Reconsider buying vegetables somewhere other than the big downtown market where the old ladies selling you their produce will ALWAYS give you double (or triple) what you ask for. The buyer has absolutely no power over these aggressive 80-year old grandmas.

“I’ll take a lb of spinach”
“ah, beautiful spinach!” (old lady precipitously stuffs a bag to overflowing)
“no, no… I only need ONE lb”
“here you are, 3 lbs!”
“but!”
“ah, I give you an incredible price! What else, carrots? tomatoes… here 10 tomatoes”.
“no, no, thank you but I don’t need any tomatoes! ”
“o.k., here 5 tomatoes, don’t worry, not expensive at all”.

My Senegalese Family

Not much Valentine’s Day festivities going on in Senegal. The holiday came and past what out seeing any pink and red decorations, V-day cards or boxes of chocolate… didn’t even spot one single heart. No matter, over the years I lost my attachment to this commercially created holiday. I was quite satisfied with the explosive grin on Mor’s face when I offered him a box of chocolate covered cookies. Though, I did decide to treat myself to a bottle of red wine… Senegalese wine. Kinda tasted like cranberry juice with a kick. Not incredibly delicious.

I am very grateful for having Mady, Fatou and Mor next door. Fatou speaks French about as well as I speak Wolof so communication isn’t always very clear, but we understand each other. She has different clucks (which are common here) for answering yes, for saying she agrees, for sympathizing, etc. Anyway, this evening she prepared another fabulous feast… a huge salad with lots of savory levels and topped with whole fried fish. I thanked them for their kind invitation to dinner saying “it’s kind of sad cooking for just yourself and then eating all alone”. Mady exclaims “ooooh yes!, it is even sad for us when it is just us three! We are used to having company. And life is just too short, too short!”. Fatou clucks.

I asked Fatou if her muscles ache… like I said before, I never see the woman stop working. “Cluck, EnnHeeem!” She points to her ankles and her shoulders. So, as a gesture of respect and appreciation I gave her a foot massage one night and a shoulder massage another. For those who know me well, it is my specialty and something I honestly enjoy doing for others. Though, I could tell Fatou was a little uncomfortable. This might have been her first ever massage. But once I loosened up her knotted back a bit, she relaxed. She has an amazingly small bone structure but with very solid muscles. She is 37 but has legs of a 21 year old!

The family is very religious, quite pious. Having been familiarized with Islam and its practices it is not a cultural shock. Except for one thing. Polygamy. Mady loves to make jokes. When I said, “Oh Mady, you are so lucky to have a wife that cooks so well, everything she makes is delicious!” He replies, “yes, but imagine if I had two! ” Geez.

A tour of Sacre Coeur 3...

This weekend was calm. I got a pretty bad cold, probably from the change in temperature. Thrilled by the warmth, the first thing I did when I got off the plane was to strip off layers of clothes. However, the Senegalese all had on sweaters and jackets, the 70’s here seem quite chilly! So, last week when folks here were all bundled up, stubborn Lili refused to wear any long sleeved shirts so as to soak in some sun. And now, go figure, I’m sick.

So, I had a quiet weekend. Saturday, I went to a fabric store with a couple ladies and bought lovely textiles so I can have a few outfits made. Yes, yes I know I was complaining about the bougie life-style and now I’m participating in it, but I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DESIGN MY OWN CLOTHES!!! And, it seems down right foolish not to invest a small amount of money on garments while also stimulating the local economy. Heehee.

Sunday, I spent the day looking over my Wolof book, cooking and writing. I also took a walk around my neighborhood, Sacre Coeur 3 and snapped some shots. Enjoy the tour!

Everywhere you go people are selling things… in my hood there are a few “nice” shops and a multitude of small shacks. With only one real grocery store in Dakar (frequented mostly by toubabs), most people find what they need at “bitiks”, closet size stores selling the essentials. You can find a motley array of goods and everything is adapted to small revenues. Little sachets of vinegar, milk and butter are sold for cooking. Cigarettes are purchased individually rather than as packs. There are tin closets on the outside where they keep fresh baguettes.

So far, what most impresses me about Senegal is the strength of the women. Starting from a very young age, around 5 years old, young girls learn the secrets of African cooking. They help their mothers with the many domestic duties. They learn how to balance heavy objects on their heads. One of the volunteers had his Senegalese (22 yr old) girlfriend over and at dinner time she ran out to the butik and in less than an hour had a large dinner prepared for everyone at la Case. And it was oh so delicious. Very impressive to a gal from the new generation of women who are raised without the confinement of traditional gender roles. I don’t know where I stand here… my feminist tendencies do not align with watching women toil all day. However, one can not help but have a great deal of respect for the grace and quality of their work, passed down from many generations.

tall, solid and strong women

young girl follows behind, proudly immitating her mother

I am also so impressed by Senegalese women's amazing style. I just can not get over how well people dress here. Ladies in stylish gowns of brightly colored silk and satin for everyday affairs.

I always get a chuckle out of the vast span of tools and transport. Though we are in a big city with loads of cars and buses, people continue to regularly employ horse and cart for hauling people and goods. Since trucks can’t make it through the narrow neighborhood streets, these carts also serve to pick up people’s trash. You hear them holler as they make their rounds. Horses and mules hang out and feed in the gaps between large modern houses. Goats are often found tied to lampposts or trees.



Soccer has got to be the main extracurricular activity. This large terrain is always full of young guys kicking the soccer ball around. When I told my Senegalese friends that I played soccer on a team when I was 13, they were SO IMPRESSED. You, (a female!) played soccer? What I didn’t tell them was that I was absolutely horrible, the twerp of the team, spending most of my time on the bench. I really had no chance with all the very large, muscular Afro-American women running around at the speed of lightening!

The orangish colored dirt covers most of Dakar. Though the lush plants and flower bushes adorning homes makes the area feel tropical, the conditions and landscape are desert-like, especially during the dry season.

Young kids wonder what is this toubab doing taking pictures of the neighborhood. They eager to participate ask me to take their picture too.

And last, here is the mosque, the bane of my… restful night’s sleep!!! It is just across from la Case. I know the little speaker on top looks small, but there are LOTS of them and the sheik blasts them!

Voila for now! Tonight Fatouh will teach me how to make Yeppah... some sort of smothered rice with chicken. Yum.

What am I doing in Sengal? Prensenting the AFVP

While in Paris, I never wrote a blog to explain exactly what I’m doing at l’AFVP. I have a few drafts but was always reluctant to publish them because my tone, no matter how objective I tried to be, sounded critical. And since my colleagues are welcome to visit my website, I feel it best to keep my opinions to myself. However, I will give you a general summary of the Association.

The AFVP was created back in 64, not too long after the emergence of big multilateral and bilateral accords (Bretton Woods, Marshall Plan) to manage global affairs. The U.S. had their peace corps and Charles DeGaulle, convinced it was necessary to protect French influence in newly independent francophone Africa, secured the money and politicians necessary to launch l’Association des Volontaires du Progres. Back in the day, most volunteers left on missions concerning agriculture. When the volunteer arrived in the African village the first thing he would do was build his house. Over the next 15 years, as aid became more accessible for developing countries, missions expanded to include infrastructure (building of dams, schools and hospitals, etc). The Minister of Foreign Affairs (MFA), the "unofficial" head of the AFVP board, decided the Association would be operator of development projects. This meant that from then on, not only would they be in charge of recruiting volunteers and following up on them, but they were also to place bids with large organizations like the IMF, World Bank and the UN to run and execute large projects. Their work mostly involved initiatives in francophone Africa but in the last 10 years extended towards Latin-America and Asia. The AFVP has an impressive list of partners co-financing their activities.

In 2000 everything changed. The MFA told AFVP that it was no longer to take on projects. The main reason for this, they say, is that developing countries are now able to find solutions to their own problems with the explosion of local NGOs and associations and the growing number of educated Nationals. The AFVP, with their 30 years of experience managing projects must return to their first objective of recruiting volunteers and placing them throughout the world as beacons of international solidarity. No longer should the volunteers be the ones in charge of projects, but rather will offer their presence as technical and organizational support for local initiatives. In making this change the government sliced their subsidies by half saying that the large structure running the Association was no longer necessary. Whereas the MFA used to give them a nice fat sum every year, they now peg their contribution to the number of volunteers on the field. AND, they now only finance 2/3 of the cost of volunteers. AFVP is required to find the last third themselves. To make a long story short, these massive changes caused an Internal CRISIS. Right before I arrived at the AFVP, they had just laid off half of their workforce… approximately 55 people.

My 2 months at the headquarters consisted of an intensive study of the Association’s history, its goals, structure, management, and activities. I spoke at length with department heads and employees. Most folks there have worked for the AFVP between 10-30 years! I really wanted to take advantage of the great accumulation of experiences and competencies in the development world. And I must say, I learned a lot. However, if I had to sum it up in one sentence it would be "by in large, the occidental method of imposing projects designed to solve occidental objectives didn’t work".

So what are my concrete actions? At the headquarters I worked closely with the Director of Communications and Recruitment. I prepared project descriptions for presentation packets aimed at establishing partnerships (w/ associations, municipalities, regions, businesses, etc). Now that the AFVP must secure funding with a partner before the government puts in their two-thirds, it is extremely important to establish these "cooperations". I also went to a couple University job fairs to help recruit potential volunteers. And, I did some translation work. The need for their documents to be translated in English has grown with the increase of Asian partners.

In Senegal, I’m working with the Regional Director. He checks up on projects in 7 West African countries. Once again, I’m working on updating project descriptions. However it is also in the plans that I do some work synthesizing ongoing projects by theme… for example, women’s health, eco-tourism, youth programs, etc. It will be a enriching experience. I will travel quite a bit, visiting project sites throughout Senegal and maybe in a couple other countries. Finally, the last goal is to produce a 20 minute recruiting video to replace the current super dull powerpoint presentation shown to graduate students. The video will try to capture the spirit of working in Africa… introduce the variety of projects, show volunteers talking about their experiences, share some culture. I’ve been given the o.k. to have Phil come over and put it together with his mad digital media skills. The AFVP can only cover his plane ticket though… which is very expensive.

My website says Ill be helping the destitute of Senegal. I plan on changing this promptly. I really had no clue, nor did the AFVP, as to what my concrete actions would be. It is actually quite the contrary, for it is the Senegalese who are helping me. They have shown me a world completely different from anything I’ve ever known. I admire their amazing work ethic, especially the women, their family values, their gaiety of heart. It is refreshing to be surrounded by folks with a decisively communal spirit. Sharing is the only option here. Yes, there is an amazing amount of potential to be harnessed on this vast continent. The key is in education. It is the youth who will build the better tomorrow. Bringing awareness and dignity to women’s status and role is also of utmost importance. I’m jumping off my soap box now. Tomorrow, I promise little text, lots of pictures :-)

New Year- Wolof- Disparities

Wednesday was the Islamic New Year’s Eve. Each household makes couscous… but not like any couscous I’ve ever had. They use mill instead of flour. Mady and his wife had about 10 people over. Very festive… once everyone cleans out the large platters of couscous covered in mountains of braised mouton and veggies, the children run around the neighborhood clanging the large dishes. La fete!! They were out until near midnight, even really little guys dancing around, making music with whacks of serving spoons.

I’ve been quite occupied the last two days with my Wolof classes (3-day intensive course) and meeting the many volunteers and partners coming through La Case. One just finished her 2 year mission and is departing, an other is celebrating a birthday so a group of us went out to celebrate. We had super fresh seafood right on the ocean… refreshing salty breeze, soothing waves. It felt a bit weird because all the folk in the restaurant were toubab. I love being immersed in Senegalese culture… there is so much to learn from them. Going out with groups of Europeans in a way taints this experience. However, it has been extremely interesting to talk with the volunteers, hear their stories of integration and about their work with l'AFVP.

A typical dinner with French folk... lots of alcohol and chain smoking... ending with a loud off-key choral of a cheesy French pop song.

My privileged life-style also bothers me. To think, before arriving I was worried that the conditions might be tougher than I could handle. But alas, I have the huge bedroom with a balcony, a big kitchen, maids that pass everyday to keep things absolutely spotless. (They even wash the dishes volunteers carelessly leave behind.) Every morning a fresh baguette and coffee await me. Mady’s wife will wash, iron and fold clothes for cheap. Delicious food is sold at bargain prices everywhere. The volunteers all use the same tailor who makes outfits based on a picture or description with the textiles they purchase at the market. Each garment costs only a few dollars to make. The toubab life-style is so flagrantly disproportional to that of the average Senegalese. It is disconcerting.

NOTES TO SELF:

1. when using the work toilet, never again forget to step WAY BACK when flushing to avoid crashing splashes… ESPECIALLY during upset stomach times!

2. try to avoid using work toilet all together.

3. if running an errand near dusk, remember that once the sun goes down there is absolutely no light in the streets other than your own strikingly stark-white self. Lili light pole, Lili light pole!

4. careful when pronouncing tchok nga… meaning –works very well- as not to mix it up for tchuk na and have to embarrassingly explain that you didn’t mean pubic hair!

5. always remember, shoes off before sitting on the mat or in someone’s home so as not to offend with the potential misunderstanding that you do not feel welcome. Hospitality is what people pride themselves most upon here!

6. keep in mind a lot of people pass through La Case… completely unequipped. Fancy ($14 a bottle) Parisian shampoo half used. Same goes for the towel… back in room after each use!

7. even if there are only two mosquitoes in all of Senegal… they will find me!!! Mosquitoes love Lili. Never ever go anywhere without bug repellent.

8. figure out a solution to keeping the smallest ever Senegalese cockroaches out of the fridge.

Soccer madness

During my 2 minute walk to work, I never know what I'll run in to. Horses, chickens, goats... I find this funny since we are nowhere near the country side. It definitely changes things up from Paris. My trained ears became oblivious to the motors and honks of the city. Now they are adjusting to the loud clamour of birds and the goats baaahhhhhing outside my window, and errrrhhhhh the painful blarring of Islamic prayers coming out of the bull-horn style speakers next door. First call to prayer, 5 am!




Big day in Senegal… their soccer team has made it to Semi-Finals ! They’ll be playing Egypt at 5 pm this evening. Since we have a big t.v. at La Case, the house will be packed. The superbowl of soccer is on Friday.

Last night, I watched Fahtou prepare dinner. During the process she washed and rinsed probably 50 lbs worth of mill. Women here are very agile and strong workers. They bend way down, legs completely straight for long periods of time… they cook, sweep nonstop, wash dishes all in this same posture. I’ll try to get a picture of it to share.

After observing Fahtou in admiration, I was once again invited to have dinner with the family. This was the first time I sat with them inside their one room home. The sports channel was on, of course, showing the highlights of this week’s matches. Fahtou comes in with the dinner… mill, water, salt cooked up into a big pile of grey moosh served with milk (consistency of yogurt) that has been mixed with some sort of juice and loads of sugar. I was impressed that dinner, just about as unappetizing as a dish could possibly look, was enthusiastically gobbled up by little Mor. And ironically, to me at least, today when I made myself french bread pizzas for lunch (with my European sauce and European cheese) and decided to make an extra one for Mor, he looked at it strangely and hesitated before taking it. His mother even had to prompt him to say thank you. I got such a kick out of this.

Anyway, back to last night… after finishing dinner (btw, I ended up eating left over rice since foreigners are strongly advised against eating non pasteurized dairy products… phew. ) Mady says “Oh no! I ate too much!” (I think to myself, is eating too much possible around these parts?) He explains, “When my belly is too full, I am not able to dream. I wanted to find out who will win the big match!”. I laugh. His friend, in all seriousness replies, “It’s o.k., I remembered, I’ll come by and tell you tomorrow morning”. Fahtou, methodically pulls out her wallet and hands him a few coins to close the deal. As I was leaving for work this morning I ask Mady “so, what did your friend report?”. “Ah, Senegal 1-0!” then a pause and a troubled air “but it will be a very tough game, very hard match”. So there you have it… I’m posting the score an hour before the game begins.

Learning to be “débrouillard”

Saturday morning, after my coffee and Wolof review I got a call from Alexandra inviting me to run errands with them in downtown Dakar. I was overjoyed since I am still shy about venturing out on public transportation. It's crazy… there are official buses but most transport is controlled by random folk driving a colorfully painted bus that won’t actually go anywhere until it is not just full, but overflowing. You usually see at least 3-4 people hanging out from the back. Same thing with taxis… the informal sector here is much more prominent than any official business. It is a country of “débrouillard”… relying on ones own creativity in dealing with everyday needs… getting things done using whatever means available. Anyhow, you get on a bus and unless you’ve lived here forever, there’s no way to know where they are going… so #1. Must ask direction. However, this remains tricky because Dakar is a constantly changing landscape so there are no real maps since only half the streets have names. And, there are no real “stops”. You have to YELL from your smushed spot, “I get off here”. # 2. Must learn phrase in Wolof. Now do you understand my relief when a couple volunteers offer me a ride?


Bus waiting for at least 10 more people to squeeze in before taking off.

We went to a market covered by a HUGE pavilion, constructed by the French long ago. You can find everything here. Except pork products. This area of Africa is 86% Muslim. I must admit to already be suffering from withdrawals after having adopted the extremely pork-heavy French diet. And dang it, beer, or rather alcohol in general, is super expensive since Muslims don’t drink either.

Alexandra shows me the ropes.

I watched Brice (volunteer who has been here a year and 6 months) buy his fruits and veggies. Each purchase, seller and buyer must negotiate. MUST negotiate. It is part of every day life here. What a pain for a shy person. HA, it takes me going to Africa to turn timid! So, after they finished buying everything, they nudged me along, “Lili, go for it, you just got to jump in!” So, I did… I bought carrots, green beans, potatoes, garlic, onions, tomatoes, clementines, bananas, parsley… each time they gave me a price “oh, that seems too expensive, 600 francs a Kilo???, no, no, 500 francs!, 550 francs, I’ll go broke! Ok fine, fine 550 francs” Or, “Brice, how much did you pay for your carrots? 300 francs? I’ll pay no more than 300 francs. What?, 350 francs? Ahhhh.. ok. ”

Lady selling mangos on the street. I know everyone has already seen a picture of this type, but let me tell you, when people all around are carrying big buckets or bags of rice on their head, including kids, it is VERY impressive. On the right, Brice and Alexandra.

I tagged along for the rest of the volunteers errands… my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open… the energy is electric, colors bright, women with magnificent builds and dressed like Queens, and stuff everywhere.

All the streets are lined with small merchant stands. Whew, they are a bit aggressive as you walk buy. They are very polite but they just don't let up. Alexandra says it's the vicious circle... the more aggressive they are, the less you want to buy, the less you buy, the more aggressive they become.

Afterwards we stopped at a “restaurant”, more like a shack for lunch. Brice pulls out a big serving bowl, goes in and has them fill it with rice and sauce for 3 people. We ate at La Case. So delicious! And this time there was a good bit of meat. Brice had paid the equivalent to 5$ and we had leftovers. Not bad.

The rest of the day I relaxed with Mady’s family outside. I’m trying to pick up on the Wolof but it is really hard. They speak so fast. The sounds are not easy to replicate. But at least I know the essentials… I might butcher it but I think toubabs who at least try are more respected.

Oh funny story. Mady had his friends and family over yesterday… they have visitors hanging out all the time. Well, as I mentioned before, people are soooooo soccer crazy here. Last night, there was an important game in the early evening so all the guys were packed in to Mady’s little one room house intensely watching the match on his small screen. So I decide to retire since no one is outside. I ask Mady if he’ll show me how to work the t.v. in the Case. So he comes in with me… and shows me how to turn on the cable. La Case is only subscribed to 5 channels: movie channel, sports channel, Senegal, Nigeria and Mauritania channel. So, as he is telling me the numbers for the channels he shows me the sports channel, then the movie channel, the sports channel, then the Senegal, the sports channel… you get the idea. He finishes with the sports channel, stops for a couple minute to watch before reluctantly handing me the remote. After he leaves, I get comfy on the couch and flip through the channels several times before finally deciding on watching the crappy movie playing. Not too long after I hear all the men back out in the courtyard area. That’s weird. Well, it wasn’t until way later, when Mady came in saw I wasn’t watching t.v. and turned it back to the sports channel that I finally got it. I felt so bad… The tv in the Case controls what shows on their tv!!! Duh! I apologized profusely to Mady for making all the 12 guys miss their game. I promised him not to change it from the sports channel ever again!

Sundays… ahhhhhh… so relaxing. Today I followed Fahtou around as she prepared rice with a fish sauce for their large family. Mady is the eldest of 5 so brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins and grandchildren come to his place on Sundays. Their kitchen is in a small concrete block across the courtyard. It didn’t seem so hard to prepare… but that’s cuz masters in the kitchen always make it look easy. I was just impressed by how she could easily gage how much of each ingredient was needed in proportion to how many people there were to feed. So, I learned their sauces are made with a base of oil, the juices rendered from fried meat, tomato paste, salt… and then you add your paste that has been mashed in a gigantic version of a mortar and pestle. It could be peanut based, or okra… today it was garlic, onion, pepper, and a couple nut looking things and herbs I’ve never had before. This is mixed in and then the veggies are thrown in until softened a bit. Then, water is added, bouillon cube, it is checked for salt, a couple red HOT peppers and once it’s back boiling a colander type bowl is placed on top to cook the rice. The rice here is thai, small and cracked looking. And voila! Once the rice is cooked, it goes on the platter, sauce with veggies and the meat is added. Mady asked me when am will I make it all by myself. I said I have 4 months here… I need one month of being the assistant.

Fahtou, always smiling!

Ok… I think I’ve given you plenty to read for the day. Thank you for your emails and comments. Even though I’m not really all that far away with modern technology… it still brings me so much joy to hear from you all.

First impressions of Senegal

My second day in Senegal. Wow. What an experience. The change happened as quickly as I transferred flights in Milan towards Senegal. As soon as we were in the air, the ambiance became that of a pre-party… folks hanging out in the aisles, drinking and talking convivially. I was seated between 2 impeccably dressed young Senegalese men, both doing business in Italy. Dress is very important to most African cultures because it signifies status. I felt it a little overboard though… c’mon leather suits in the tropics? Even on the plane, they were hurtin’!

I arrived at 3am. An AFVP colleague picked me up and we rode across the bumpy dirt roads towards La Case. I really had NO CLUE what to expect so I was pleasantly surprised to find hot water, clean rooms, nice kitchen, courtyard… There is a full-time guardian, Mady who lives in a little studio next door with his wife and child. In the morning they gave me my first lesson in Wolof. Incredibly friendly… nothing like I’ve ever experienced.

Mady

Around lunch time I was invited to eat with them. Everyone takes off their shoes, sits on a mat around a large platter. (Utensils are apparently optional.) Maybe since I’m a toubab (whitey), we were given big spoons to scoop up piles of steamed rice smothered in palm oil, smashed okra, spices, mouton and potato. Very little meat. Most families live on small revenues. Though, this does not stop them from feeding 2 friends that pass by. Food here is to be shared.

Mady's wife Fatou and son Mor

Before heading off to check out the office, (a convenient 2 minute walk from La Case) I set up my stuff in one of the 4 rooms upstairs. I chose the one with the big french doors to get in maximal light. If I’m lucky we’ll find the key so that I can also enjoy the huge balcony. It’s pretty humorous. Every single room in the house, including the kitchen and dining room has a lock and key. Not to mention, there are lockers in the hallway and locks on every single closet and cabinet. Not too sure why this is necessary since the neighborhood is safe, the locks on the front door are good and La Case is closed in by a high white wall. Anyway, I’m very comfortable and am looking forward to decorate the place. Before checking out my new work place I sat and had some tea with Mady and a few of his friends. Though, I didn’t make it through the 3 servings. First is a strong bitter tea, symbolic of death, the second less pungent symbolic of life, the third super sweet symbolic of love. Each brew takes a long time. Two small cups are used to mix the tea by pouring one in to the other from up high. I only got through the first before I had to go. Tastes like dirt, mmmmmmmm.

Friends stop by for tea and talk about the BIG of the big soccer: Senegal vs Guinea, which they won 3 to 2. The ENTIRE city cheered when they made a goal. The intensity in sound was impressive.

Everyone at the office seems nice. Again, extremely approachable, easy grins. Since I got arrived so late in the day, I didn’t spend much time there. Though, it was long enough to get an invitation to share dinner with a colleague and his wife. Once again, same scenario except this time there were 10 people around one platter, I being the only toubab. After a quick rinse in a bowl of water, everyone dug in with their hands. A little strange, yes, but since I’ve ALWAYS been a messy eater it was almost liberating. And the food was quite delicious. I really want to know all the spices she used to jerk the chicken. Yum.

This morning the other volunteers from the AFVP came to the office to welcome me over coffee and pain au chocolat. It was nice to hear about their work and experiences. One volunteer invited me to have lunch at her place… steps away from the ocean.

Hot sun, cool breeze, beautiful view

I can't wait to spend the day lounging by the water. Though I remain a bit nervous, my SUPER pale skin is bound to attract a lot of attention.

SO JEALOUS! Once again, fed to my delight. She and I shared good conversation. It takes a little work to psychological adapt to such a change in environment. She, having arrived 6 months ago was fresh enough to understand exactly what I was experiencing but also been here long enough to have good bit of helpful advice. I feel like a child. I must relearn everything. Nothing is “evident”. Luckily, the folks here are so, so friendly that it is no problem. But one thing is for sure, for a gal who has always been confident (at times to my own detriment) this really shakes things up. When going to the store to buy water alone seems daunting, one quickly feels fragile! But, Alexandra assures me I’ll get through it. Just need a little time to get used to things.

Right now, I’m at La Case. I decided to be tough and go to a little “suprette” and buy what I need for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. Whew, Western products aren’t cheap. I’ve got to learn how to cook Senegalese food!

We live right next to a mosque. Mosques are everywhere. Man, is the call to prayer LOUD. They have huge speakers that echo on all the concrete buildings and walls and they repeat the same two phrases over and over for lets see… how long has it been now? Too long. Whew, they stopped. Now comes the sermon.

There was lots of photos I wanted to take today to share with all, but I’m still too timid to pull out the ol’ camera. Already, I attract too much attention for my comfort level. Plus, folks here are extremely superstitious. Some believe bad things will come upon them if they are captured in a picture.

That’s all for now. I’m going to go back out and see if I can post this at a cyber café.