I just finished PST 2 (Pre-Service Training) which was the final installment of our technical training. These past two weeks were full of techniques, practices, and more English social stimulation than I've had since PST 1.
Aside from the technical practices that we learned, which I'll get to later, we also learned about Monitoring, Reporting and Evaluation (something we here call, MRE). This is the method with which we as PCVs use to record and report on our work at our sites while in country. This process is multilayered and comprehensive as some of the data that we report goes to Peace Corps Headquarters in Washington, while other pieces of information stay in Peace Corps Senegal for our sectors individually, and, for my program as a sustainable agriculture extension agent, some of our data also goes back to Senegalese organizations working on improving practices, seeds, etc. It is a lot of paperwork (digital of course), but also pretty straight forward and it seems like a cohesive way of collating data and information and disseminating to the sources that can best use the information. I'll have more of an understanding of how collecting this data will actually look once I'm in the field. We report this information through the Volunteer Reporting Form (VRF) that is used worldwide by Peace Corps. It is a bi-annual extensive account of all of our extension activities and the way that our work is aligned to our project framework.
We also learned about how to apply for grants through Peace Corps' system. I can use grants if my village expresses an interest in a project that would benefit the community, address their needs in terms of food security, etc. We can also use grants for group projects like the Girls Leadership Conference that Tambacounda will be hosting later this month. Some of the grants are funded by USAID or NGOs like One Acre Fund, World Connect, etc. while others are funded through community and families members back in the United States through a partnership program. It was all a lot to process but I am excited about the many opportunities that I have for my two years of service in Botou and in Senegal.
Our technical training was also much more specific than what we received during PST. I'll give you an overview of what we learned and if you want me to expand on anything please let me know. We learned about our seed extension program for field crops, SRI (System of Rice Intensification), permaculture planning and implementation, earthworks (boomerang berms, contour berms, cuvettes, etc), pruning, seed selection and storage (vegetable and field crops), companion planting, intercropping/mono-cropping, advanced gardening techniques (staking tomatoes, helping cucurbites climb), Farmer Managed Natural Regeneration (FMNR), vegetable propagation, integrated pest management, soil fertility management, chemical fertilizer best practices, and a few other things that I'm sure I'm forgetting. It was quite the comprehensive education, particularly for someone like me (typical Peace Corps volunteer with a liberal arts degree) and I appreciated that they do give us a baseline of knowledge so that we can go back to our villages with something to teach them. It is exciting and overwhelming and thrilling, and many other different emotions, but I'm very excited and looking forward to settling back into life in Botou and beginning the technical work of my Peace Corps Senegal experience.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Bakel, Monkeys, Donkeys Oh My!
It's been awhile since I last posted, and a lot has happened (at least for village life). A week ago, I made my way to Moribugu, the village where Jordan (Moussa Diarra), the other Bambara volunteer lives. He lives in a region called Bakel, a sub-region of Tambacounda. He is about 250km from me in an area that borders Mauritania and Mali. I rode up with Cheryl Faye, the new director of Peace Corps Senegal. Peace Corps encourages us to ride with PC vehicles if we ever have the chance and our travel plans align. We had some good conversation about the future of Peace Corps Senegal, and the five week challenge party that we are going to have at her house in Dakar in a few weeks. We also saw about 20 small monkeys on our way up...I'd have to say that was definitely a highlight. We first stopped at another volunteer's site because Cheryl was doing site visits in the region of Bakel. This volunteer is an agroforestry volunteer who speaks Pulaar du Nord, which is what most of the volunteers (except Jordan) speak in the Bakel work-zone. We then arrived at Jordan's village and after a tour of his site and his Master Farm Cheryl continued her way north and I stayed in Jordan's village. While our plan was to have Falaye (our language instructor meet us in Moribougou for our language seminar) that didn't end up working out and we decided that it would be better to have all of us meet in Botou. I decided to stay in Moribougou, since I had already made the trek, and Jordan and I spent a few days in his village and the neighboring villages, greeting people, working in his Master Farm, talking with the school teachers about their future projects, and speaking Bambara. It was so interesting to hear his Bambara as it is a bit different than the Bambara spoken in Botou. The region of Bakel was very cool, besides the monkeys, there were mountains (hills more like) and huge spots of erosion (which while aren't "cool" per se are very interesting geologically and ecologically). The state of his land and the work that has to be done up there is different in many ways than the work that I think I will do in Botou, but there are similarities too. It will be interesting to continue our service together and see how our villages react and work with us in the projects that we hope to do during our two years. Unfortunately I was sick for most of the time I was up in Bakel so I hope that I can go back later and see more of the land and maybe even one day nearby Mali or Mauritania!
We left at 5am on a bus to Tamba and came back to Botou. It was a terrific homecoming. I got a huge hug from my host mom Raki and from Sorkhna (hugs are not common at all for the Senegalese). People were singing Halima naa naa, which means Halima is coming/is back. It was so great to be back home, and to really feel like I belonged and back where I am supposed to be.
On our second night I woke up to the sound of some serious crunching noises in my garden and I looked out my window and saw that there were donkeys eating away at my garden. I was furious, but didn't want to go through the ordeal of waking someone up, or going out in my shorts and risk being seen by my family (shorts aren't taboo but not something that I would wear in front of my family). I decided just to wait and see if the donkeys would leave, or if someone else would come out after hearing their crunching. Not long after I got back in bed I heard Kooli, Seynabu, Raki and Bouna out in the garden trying to shoo the donkeys out of my garden. In the morning I woke up and saw that the donkeys had eaten all of my cucumbers, most of my tomatoes, my sunflowers, basil and the peanuts and corn my family had laid out to dry in the garden. I talked with Bouna who said there were 7(!!!!) donkeys in the garden in the middle of the night. They had pulled out the wooden post that had been in the ground holding the door together. I was upset, but there wasn't much we could do about the garden except fix the fence and hope the donkeys don't come in again. As it turned out, it was a big deal for my village. All of the village elders, including the Iman came in and toured the damage. Bouna would tell everyone that came how much I had been working in the garden, watering twice a day, etc. He clearly was very upset about the donkey business (particularly because they were not all of our donkeys but neighbor donkeys as well). I think the village was also concerned that it could easily happen to other people's fences as well. Most of the donkeys aren't tied up and instead just wander around. After they all toured my now garden museum they all sat down in my compound and had a meeting about what to do. They asked me if I wanted them to pay me for what was eaten. I said certainly not, I had seeds that I could replace what was lost, but that what I really wanted was for the fence to be fixed so that it wouldn't happen again. They decided that those whose donkeys had been in the garden had to either pay money or help with the rebuilding of the fence. It was quite the ordeal, and even today as I was leaving Botou, people were coming up to me and apologizing for the loss of my garden, telling me how bad donkeys were. Jordan and I reseeded most of the beds that had been destroyed, and although my two and a half months of work are now in the bellies of asses, I hope that something will be growing again when I come back from my technical training in Thiès.
This month I will spend most of it out of site. I am going to Thiès for a few days to spend sometime with my friends around my birthday. Then we are going to Dakar for W.A.I.S.T (West African Invitational Softball Tournament) which is a big sports-like event with Peace Corps volunteers and other expats in Dakar. Then we head back to Thiès for two weeks of intense technical training. Then I head back to Botou for two years of service! I am excited to learn the rest of the technical things, like grant writing, that I need to know for my service, but I also will miss my family and my community in Botou as they have become the best family and community I could ask for in Senegal.
We left at 5am on a bus to Tamba and came back to Botou. It was a terrific homecoming. I got a huge hug from my host mom Raki and from Sorkhna (hugs are not common at all for the Senegalese). People were singing Halima naa naa, which means Halima is coming/is back. It was so great to be back home, and to really feel like I belonged and back where I am supposed to be.
On our second night I woke up to the sound of some serious crunching noises in my garden and I looked out my window and saw that there were donkeys eating away at my garden. I was furious, but didn't want to go through the ordeal of waking someone up, or going out in my shorts and risk being seen by my family (shorts aren't taboo but not something that I would wear in front of my family). I decided just to wait and see if the donkeys would leave, or if someone else would come out after hearing their crunching. Not long after I got back in bed I heard Kooli, Seynabu, Raki and Bouna out in the garden trying to shoo the donkeys out of my garden. In the morning I woke up and saw that the donkeys had eaten all of my cucumbers, most of my tomatoes, my sunflowers, basil and the peanuts and corn my family had laid out to dry in the garden. I talked with Bouna who said there were 7(!!!!) donkeys in the garden in the middle of the night. They had pulled out the wooden post that had been in the ground holding the door together. I was upset, but there wasn't much we could do about the garden except fix the fence and hope the donkeys don't come in again. As it turned out, it was a big deal for my village. All of the village elders, including the Iman came in and toured the damage. Bouna would tell everyone that came how much I had been working in the garden, watering twice a day, etc. He clearly was very upset about the donkey business (particularly because they were not all of our donkeys but neighbor donkeys as well). I think the village was also concerned that it could easily happen to other people's fences as well. Most of the donkeys aren't tied up and instead just wander around. After they all toured my now garden museum they all sat down in my compound and had a meeting about what to do. They asked me if I wanted them to pay me for what was eaten. I said certainly not, I had seeds that I could replace what was lost, but that what I really wanted was for the fence to be fixed so that it wouldn't happen again. They decided that those whose donkeys had been in the garden had to either pay money or help with the rebuilding of the fence. It was quite the ordeal, and even today as I was leaving Botou, people were coming up to me and apologizing for the loss of my garden, telling me how bad donkeys were. Jordan and I reseeded most of the beds that had been destroyed, and although my two and a half months of work are now in the bellies of asses, I hope that something will be growing again when I come back from my technical training in Thiès.
This month I will spend most of it out of site. I am going to Thiès for a few days to spend sometime with my friends around my birthday. Then we are going to Dakar for W.A.I.S.T (West African Invitational Softball Tournament) which is a big sports-like event with Peace Corps volunteers and other expats in Dakar. Then we head back to Thiès for two weeks of intense technical training. Then I head back to Botou for two years of service! I am excited to learn the rest of the technical things, like grant writing, that I need to know for my service, but I also will miss my family and my community in Botou as they have become the best family and community I could ask for in Senegal.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Sights in Senegal
Introduction to the Five Senses of Senegal:
Since I did a post awhile back on the smells of Senegal I thought, (along with some discussion with that certain father and a certain mother as well) that I would go through all of the senses and try and give you, as a reader, a better sense of what life is like in Senegal. These sights, smells, touches, tastes, and sounds are a part of my life in Senegal. They are not unique really to one day or one celebration, most often they are things that I experience frequently.
Termite mounds are abundant throughout Senegal. When I first saw them I thought they were ancient ruins, much like the Mayan pyramids that you can see still hidden in the "bush" of Mexico but before I actual spoke about those thoughts to anyone I asked. Turns out they are termite mounds, disgusting, bad for the trees, mounds of termites. Kids. Kids are everywhere in Senegal. But the most interesting difference about the kids here is that they go to the bathroom wherever they please. Most often in my compound it is on the ground and one of the mothers or an older sibling scoops up some sand and cleans it all away. There was the one time this week when my little sister, Tene, decided to go on my front porch, but just like everywhere else it is now spotless! Whenever I bike to Tamba I always love seeing the mile-markers. It isn't that far, 10km, but knowing which dilapidated mile marker is about to show up on my bike trip is a terrific motivator when the wind is blowing in my face and my backpack is loaded down with vegetables. Coming to Tamba is the time when we get to see BACON! And by this I mean the wild pigs that roam around, particularly in the trash river. Biking into Tamba provides me with lots of sights (and smells and tastes for that matter but that comes later). I always bike into Tamba in the morning, leaving Botou at 7am and as I arrive in Tamba I see many women walking with baskets and buckets to the daily fish market that is just on the outskirts of Tamba. Men shave their heads at what seem to be random periods of the year. One moment my uncles or host dad will have a modest head of hair, the next moment, bald! Babies are also bald. At birth, most babies come with some hair but a week after they are born before the naming ceremony they shave off all their hairs, even the baby girls! It is quite distressing actually to see them take a razor to a tiny baby's head. They also cut dogs ears and donkeys tails. I'm not really sure why they do either. I've heard that it is to keep the bugs/flies away, but it seems counterproductive to me when there are gobs of blood coming out of their ears and rear ends, a perfect habitat for blood thirsty insects. Dust is everywhere in my hut! I can't get rid of it. Things are no longer clean or sponged off, they are dusty. It's just a fact and I've gotten over my OCD about cleaning it 24/7. Now I just clean everything only once a day. Whenever cars come into the village it is a sight for the whole village. A car, in our village? Whatever are they doing here? Nobody owns a car in Botou so seeing one is a pretty big deal. Again when I bike into Tamba I see lots of truck drivers, many from Mali with their trucks parked on the side of the road. Most of them have pulled out mats and blankets and are sleeping or praying underneath or beside their trucks. UN trucks. On December 29, 2014 there was an attack on a UN refugee camp in northern Mali and because of the presence of the camp and the attack in particular there are always (and sometimes more frequently) trucks with UN posted on the side going past Botou on their way to Mali. Baobab trees, a tree many think of as a "typical African tree" are de-leafed in my village. All their leaves stripped and eventually they will grow back during the hot/rainy season. And finally, the sight of my host siblings watering the garden as I come back from Tamba is a true delight!
Since I did a post awhile back on the smells of Senegal I thought, (along with some discussion with that certain father and a certain mother as well) that I would go through all of the senses and try and give you, as a reader, a better sense of what life is like in Senegal. These sights, smells, touches, tastes, and sounds are a part of my life in Senegal. They are not unique really to one day or one celebration, most often they are things that I experience frequently.
Termite mounds are abundant throughout Senegal. When I first saw them I thought they were ancient ruins, much like the Mayan pyramids that you can see still hidden in the "bush" of Mexico but before I actual spoke about those thoughts to anyone I asked. Turns out they are termite mounds, disgusting, bad for the trees, mounds of termites. Kids. Kids are everywhere in Senegal. But the most interesting difference about the kids here is that they go to the bathroom wherever they please. Most often in my compound it is on the ground and one of the mothers or an older sibling scoops up some sand and cleans it all away. There was the one time this week when my little sister, Tene, decided to go on my front porch, but just like everywhere else it is now spotless! Whenever I bike to Tamba I always love seeing the mile-markers. It isn't that far, 10km, but knowing which dilapidated mile marker is about to show up on my bike trip is a terrific motivator when the wind is blowing in my face and my backpack is loaded down with vegetables. Coming to Tamba is the time when we get to see BACON! And by this I mean the wild pigs that roam around, particularly in the trash river. Biking into Tamba provides me with lots of sights (and smells and tastes for that matter but that comes later). I always bike into Tamba in the morning, leaving Botou at 7am and as I arrive in Tamba I see many women walking with baskets and buckets to the daily fish market that is just on the outskirts of Tamba. Men shave their heads at what seem to be random periods of the year. One moment my uncles or host dad will have a modest head of hair, the next moment, bald! Babies are also bald. At birth, most babies come with some hair but a week after they are born before the naming ceremony they shave off all their hairs, even the baby girls! It is quite distressing actually to see them take a razor to a tiny baby's head. They also cut dogs ears and donkeys tails. I'm not really sure why they do either. I've heard that it is to keep the bugs/flies away, but it seems counterproductive to me when there are gobs of blood coming out of their ears and rear ends, a perfect habitat for blood thirsty insects. Dust is everywhere in my hut! I can't get rid of it. Things are no longer clean or sponged off, they are dusty. It's just a fact and I've gotten over my OCD about cleaning it 24/7. Now I just clean everything only once a day. Whenever cars come into the village it is a sight for the whole village. A car, in our village? Whatever are they doing here? Nobody owns a car in Botou so seeing one is a pretty big deal. Again when I bike into Tamba I see lots of truck drivers, many from Mali with their trucks parked on the side of the road. Most of them have pulled out mats and blankets and are sleeping or praying underneath or beside their trucks. UN trucks. On December 29, 2014 there was an attack on a UN refugee camp in northern Mali and because of the presence of the camp and the attack in particular there are always (and sometimes more frequently) trucks with UN posted on the side going past Botou on their way to Mali. Baobab trees, a tree many think of as a "typical African tree" are de-leafed in my village. All their leaves stripped and eventually they will grow back during the hot/rainy season. And finally, the sight of my host siblings watering the garden as I come back from Tamba is a true delight!
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Babies and New Year's Eve
It isn’t every day that you come back from a skype session
with your parents and its announced that there will be a brand new baby in your compound the next day. Last weekened, after my rough week in
general, my uncle, Daouda, announced that his wife had another baby and that
the next day she would be at our compound for the baby naming ceremony. I was thrilled! As many of you know I love babies. I
had heard so much about naming ceremonies that I was excited to witness
one. I asked Bouna if it was all
right if I took pictures, he said yes of course. A bunch of women were cooking in the morning, some sort of
corn mash with sugar that they made into balls. When I got up, my host sisters ushered me into Daouda’s hut,
where his wife was there with a teeny little baby. They were about to shave his head. I would learn later that this is what happens to every baby,
boy or girl before they get their names.
The naming happens a week after they are born. At around 10am, all the village
elders, meaning old men, came into our compound and sat down on mats. The iman, almami, was there front and
center. Then a younger man came
out and seemed to be speaking with the Iman, I think it was more that the iman
was speaking to him, telling him the name of the new baby, Djibie. They passed around the corn balls with
kola nuts inside (a very caffeinated nut that I think tastes very strong and bitter) and
gave it to everyone that was there.
They sat and prayed, holding their hands in front of them and then
praying, in Arabic. It was quite
charming and calming to watch. After a certain short
time, less than half an hour they all left, filing out slowly. The older women were at my compound the
whole day, cooking, and many family members from Tamba and neighboring villages
came to see the new baby and to see the family. Then later in the evening I walked out of my hut and my
uncle was slaughtering a sheep, I thought it was in celebration for the baby but
then it turned out that he was selling most of the meat, maybe the money goes to
the baby, as I’ve said before, I think, I still don’t quite understand the
money matters here in Senegal.
Holding a tiny baby was pretty much a terrific treat. The next day I went around the village
and ended up finding two more small babies, both under two weeks old. One that had been named, and the other
that was supposed to be named the next day. Everyone seemed to want to name it after me, Halima, which
was I was at first okay with. I told them I
would go back and take pictures the next day. I went back and spent a couple hours or so. I watched the iman
bless her, whisper prayers and I guess get or give her her name. I asked her mother if her name was in fact Halima and she
replied in the affirmative. It
wasn’t until later that I learned from my host sister Setou that in fact her
name was Maimouna, not Halima.
Kind of a relief, just because it seems like a lot of pressure to have a
kid named after you and on top of that the family isn’t related to my family,
I’m not sure what the practices are.
But I got to spend a few hours with a number of babies and that was
pretty cool.
On New Years Eve my
host sisters came back from picking cotton and told me that they were going to
get together with some other kids from the village and cook spaghetti and eggs.
I decided to help them out so I have them 300cfa and decided to go along with whatever they were doing. After we watered the garden we went
over to another compound and started peeling onions and potatoes and cooking
beef. My uncle earlier had
slaughtered a cow, it was pretty amazing to watch them kill something that big
with a dull knife. All of my
uncle and neighbors were holding the cows legs, tied with ropes and they had the dull blade
of a knife that they sharpened by scraping it on the well. Then they called Kooli (my other uncle) over and he took a pole of wood and laid it across the belly of the cow to
hold it down so that the cow couldn’t move. It’s amazing to watch them kill animals with the slip of a
knife, they drain the blood and then begin the the butchering. But back to the cooking. I was with a bunch of 14 year old girls
who were all chattering away cooking up a storm; beignets, beef with onions and
mustard and spaghetti. The irony
of the whole thing was that the dish we were cooking was supposedly called
couscous marocain (Moroccan CousCous).
I just think that is pretty crazy. I helped out with the peeling and cutting of potatoes and onions. At one point, about three hours later I
was getting tired and bored, and they began to notice. So they took a bowl as they were
beginning to get ready to eat and my Tupperware container that they had
collected peanuts in and they packed up my part of the dinner that I thought we
were going to eat together and walked me back to my compound. I thought we were going to eat all
together but I guess that wasn’t the case. I sat down with my own bowl of “marrocain couscous” and
invited my host siblings and my aunt to join me. They of course did and then we sat down and had our New Year’s
Eve meal. Pasta with onions,
mustard and beef.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Guilt and Peace Corps
Peace Corps isn't easy. No one ever said it was nor did I have the illusion that it would be. But what I didn't expect was this. Aside from feeling unproductive 80% of the time I also get waves of guilt (not the Jewish kind), boredom, frustration, unhappiness and general dissatisfaction. The good news is that I know that this all will pass. Things will get better, everyone says so, and I believe them, if I didn't, I wouldn't be here anymore. Things don't just get better with the snap of my fingers though, it takes time, dedication, and perseverance. Staying in village for me has been key. Getting through the hard days is always rewarded with good days and great moments.
Christmas was hard, and not because I wanted to celebrate Christmas, nor was I upset that family and friends back home were, but it was that I knew that all my family and friends were getting together; something that I always enjoyed during college was getting together and seeing people who often I would see only once or twice a year. It wasn't even that I necessarily wanted to be there instead of here, but the simple fact that it was happening, even when I was here, in Botou, was difficult to say the least. But I did come out on the other side, and as I said there are always great moments. Christmas afternoon my host siblings said that we were going to go and do something. It came across to me as some sort of adventure and of course I said yes. It turned out that we went to pick little shriveled fruits off my least favorite tree in Senegal. A tree that during CBT would constantly attack Jordan and me at our garden, a tree that has the most painful spines, but a tree nonetheless that provides a strange, and occasionally satisfying taste of sweet and sour. Spending time with my host siblings, whether it be pulling water from the well like a donkey and watering the garden, or picking these bizarre fruits are the great moments that I rely on to keep me sane and happy at site. My siblings, the three girls in particular, are sometimes the siblings that I never had growing up as a kid. I give them a hard time when they do silly or stupid things, I roll my eyes with them behind the back of their mother and watch them giggle, and I help them with their French homework.
The other frustration of being at site is feeling guilty. I feel guilty when I read, I feel guilty when I cook food in my hut to supplement my diet of rice, I feel guilty when I use a pen that works much better than the pens my host siblings use for school, and generally there isn't much I can do about any of these guilt ridden daily happenings. I still read in my hut because it gives me a piece of mind. Reading is now, and always has been my sanctuary, my escape from reality, even if for a little bit. While I could (and sometimes do) read outside my hut, I am then surrounded by a group of kids from the village who can't read or participate in what I'm doing, so begin to chatter in Bambara. I also feel guilty about cooking beans in my hut. While the food at site is particularly good for Senegalese food, it isn't varied. Most lunches are either peanut sauce or fish and rice and dinners are corn couscous with a bean sauce, often with moringa, but usually with few actual beans themselves. Protein is obviously lacking in their diets so I have taken to cooking myself a cup of beans every few days to supplement. Sometimes to the point that I'm not as hungry for lunch, and this my host mother, in particular, notices. It's frustrating because I don't love the food in Senegal, but I do eat it and sometimes I genuinely like the food, but I do feel the need to eat some beans now and again. Maybe it's the language barrier right now that doesn't quite allow me to express what I'm feeling or thinking, but I try the best I can to explain and hope that either the message gets across and they get used to it, or we can laugh and joke about it whenever it becomes an issue.
The point of frustration about the lack of productivity is the one thing I know will get better in the months to come, guaranteed. Right now I have my garden seeded, I started a nursery with my host mom and dad under the water chateau in my uncle's garden, and now that the harvesting of peanuts is basically finished, people should be around more so that I can spend time in other compounds. But sometimes I think about whether my presence in village really means something to the villagers other than the fact that they have an American living in their village. I know that at times it truly does, that they enjoy talking to me and learning about American culture and ideas, but at times I feel like I'm enduring many more daily struggles and personally getting a lot more out of my time at site then they are. Part of that may be because I can't see, and may not see, the effects of my work at site.
Christmas was hard, and not because I wanted to celebrate Christmas, nor was I upset that family and friends back home were, but it was that I knew that all my family and friends were getting together; something that I always enjoyed during college was getting together and seeing people who often I would see only once or twice a year. It wasn't even that I necessarily wanted to be there instead of here, but the simple fact that it was happening, even when I was here, in Botou, was difficult to say the least. But I did come out on the other side, and as I said there are always great moments. Christmas afternoon my host siblings said that we were going to go and do something. It came across to me as some sort of adventure and of course I said yes. It turned out that we went to pick little shriveled fruits off my least favorite tree in Senegal. A tree that during CBT would constantly attack Jordan and me at our garden, a tree that has the most painful spines, but a tree nonetheless that provides a strange, and occasionally satisfying taste of sweet and sour. Spending time with my host siblings, whether it be pulling water from the well like a donkey and watering the garden, or picking these bizarre fruits are the great moments that I rely on to keep me sane and happy at site. My siblings, the three girls in particular, are sometimes the siblings that I never had growing up as a kid. I give them a hard time when they do silly or stupid things, I roll my eyes with them behind the back of their mother and watch them giggle, and I help them with their French homework.
The other frustration of being at site is feeling guilty. I feel guilty when I read, I feel guilty when I cook food in my hut to supplement my diet of rice, I feel guilty when I use a pen that works much better than the pens my host siblings use for school, and generally there isn't much I can do about any of these guilt ridden daily happenings. I still read in my hut because it gives me a piece of mind. Reading is now, and always has been my sanctuary, my escape from reality, even if for a little bit. While I could (and sometimes do) read outside my hut, I am then surrounded by a group of kids from the village who can't read or participate in what I'm doing, so begin to chatter in Bambara. I also feel guilty about cooking beans in my hut. While the food at site is particularly good for Senegalese food, it isn't varied. Most lunches are either peanut sauce or fish and rice and dinners are corn couscous with a bean sauce, often with moringa, but usually with few actual beans themselves. Protein is obviously lacking in their diets so I have taken to cooking myself a cup of beans every few days to supplement. Sometimes to the point that I'm not as hungry for lunch, and this my host mother, in particular, notices. It's frustrating because I don't love the food in Senegal, but I do eat it and sometimes I genuinely like the food, but I do feel the need to eat some beans now and again. Maybe it's the language barrier right now that doesn't quite allow me to express what I'm feeling or thinking, but I try the best I can to explain and hope that either the message gets across and they get used to it, or we can laugh and joke about it whenever it becomes an issue.
The point of frustration about the lack of productivity is the one thing I know will get better in the months to come, guaranteed. Right now I have my garden seeded, I started a nursery with my host mom and dad under the water chateau in my uncle's garden, and now that the harvesting of peanuts is basically finished, people should be around more so that I can spend time in other compounds. But sometimes I think about whether my presence in village really means something to the villagers other than the fact that they have an American living in their village. I know that at times it truly does, that they enjoy talking to me and learning about American culture and ideas, but at times I feel like I'm enduring many more daily struggles and personally getting a lot more out of my time at site then they are. Part of that may be because I can't see, and may not see, the effects of my work at site.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Halima Fofana
Life has changed once again in Peace Corps Senegal. This time, for Halima Fofana! I am now living at my permanent site, Botou, Tambacounda, Senegal. It's a village of 900 people according to the village chief and 2500 according to another source. It lies just 10km outside of Tamba, the capitol of the region. I installed on Tuesday December 2, 2014. That morning a group of us as new volunteers visited the prefect (like the governor) of Tamba, the head of the gendarmerie, the head of the police, the head of agriculture for Tamba and the head of Eaux et Forests, the body that governs the national forests in Senegal. While we were at the Eaux et Forets office, Djitte, one of my supervisors got a call from my host dad Bouna, because everyone in Botou was ready, waiting to dance me into the village.
We went and picked up all of my stuff and drove to Botou. Upon arriving, the women were gathered in a circle dancing and singing my name. They had cleverly made a drum out of a gourd bowl placed upside down in a bucket of water. I danced with them and clapped as they danced. Before I knew it, I was whisked away, covered in a white shroud and walked to my hut with a group of 15 or so women. It was simply amazing. I got to my hut and when I turned back into the hut from the back yard all of my belongings were in my hut! My hut is made of cement/mud and wood for the structure itself and the roof is made out of grasses from the fields placed on top of a conical beam structure. This kind of hut is ideal because the straw roof keeps things relatively cool. I have a shade structure/porch that faces the other huts in the compound. Then there is a window facing the garden and a door to my backyard and to my bathroom. I sleep on a stick bed frame made by a man who lives in Jam Jam, a bush village not far from Botou, that was commissioned by my ancien. I also have a great work table- made by my ancien and our uncle Mahdu. I have made a few additions to my perfect new abode. I painted two rectangles inside with chalkboard paint to keep lists, etc. I painted an image of Vermont on the outside of my hut. Seeing as both Connor and I are from the wonderful and beautiful 802 it seemed only fitting. Now I am hoping to secure the next volunteer's home state. I finally feel settled into the hut. Just a week in and I built a stand for the clay pot I bought that will keep my water nice and cool during the hot season. I've planted some vegetables in my nurseries and made a compost as well as started experimenting with some basil and nasturtium container gardens. I also planted some sunflower seeds from High Mowing Seeds on the edge of a berm, but I have no idea if they are going to grow- stay tuned.
My host family consists of two families. My host dad Bouna is the de facto village chief as his elder brother lives in Tamba now. He is married to Raki and they have nine kids, six who live in Botou, two who go to high school in Tamba and one who lives in another village. The kids range from Sorkhna who is about 15-16 to Tene who is a year and a half. There there is Bouna's younger brother Cooli who's wife is Seynabu and their child Fili who is a bit older than Tene. Another brother of Bouna's also lives in the compound but is in and out. Then next door is Mahdu and his wife Muya Mahdu is another brother of Bouna's. Their sister Masirrah also lives with them. She is deaf and watching people speak to her with their hands has been one of the most interesting parts of my short time here so far. Mahdu has 5 kids and works at the water tower that the town recently got. He's also a woodworker and farms. All of the men in the family farm, peanuts and corn are their main sources of income. The women sort of garden and do all of the cooking, cleaning and child rearing. The one thing about the men in the Fofana family is that they are among the most kind, patient, and interested/interesting men I've met so far during my time in Senegal. They will sit with me as I ask them questions, they won't yell at me to speak as Raki has done, and they are very sweet to their young children.
It has been exhausting getting used to this new pace of life. I got strep throat again...But otherwise I'm learning to become a more patient, more relaxed person. So much work happens, but slowly, day by day. They say that here in the Peace Corps, days go by slowly and months rush by. I've felt that, but I also love spending the day with the kids in my family, wandering around my village, or helping in the peanut fields. The manual labor is exhausting in itself in Senegal. Everyday I pull water from a bidon from the well in our compound, 30 meters down, which is pretty deep for a water table here. Harvesting peanuts, and the work they put into their fields is amazing but sometimes I wonder if their physical exertion is worth the amount of money they get for all of their hard labor. I guess at this point it is their only option. Let's just hope that the rains will fall harder and more frequently in the years to come!
We went and picked up all of my stuff and drove to Botou. Upon arriving, the women were gathered in a circle dancing and singing my name. They had cleverly made a drum out of a gourd bowl placed upside down in a bucket of water. I danced with them and clapped as they danced. Before I knew it, I was whisked away, covered in a white shroud and walked to my hut with a group of 15 or so women. It was simply amazing. I got to my hut and when I turned back into the hut from the back yard all of my belongings were in my hut! My hut is made of cement/mud and wood for the structure itself and the roof is made out of grasses from the fields placed on top of a conical beam structure. This kind of hut is ideal because the straw roof keeps things relatively cool. I have a shade structure/porch that faces the other huts in the compound. Then there is a window facing the garden and a door to my backyard and to my bathroom. I sleep on a stick bed frame made by a man who lives in Jam Jam, a bush village not far from Botou, that was commissioned by my ancien. I also have a great work table- made by my ancien and our uncle Mahdu. I have made a few additions to my perfect new abode. I painted two rectangles inside with chalkboard paint to keep lists, etc. I painted an image of Vermont on the outside of my hut. Seeing as both Connor and I are from the wonderful and beautiful 802 it seemed only fitting. Now I am hoping to secure the next volunteer's home state. I finally feel settled into the hut. Just a week in and I built a stand for the clay pot I bought that will keep my water nice and cool during the hot season. I've planted some vegetables in my nurseries and made a compost as well as started experimenting with some basil and nasturtium container gardens. I also planted some sunflower seeds from High Mowing Seeds on the edge of a berm, but I have no idea if they are going to grow- stay tuned.
My host family consists of two families. My host dad Bouna is the de facto village chief as his elder brother lives in Tamba now. He is married to Raki and they have nine kids, six who live in Botou, two who go to high school in Tamba and one who lives in another village. The kids range from Sorkhna who is about 15-16 to Tene who is a year and a half. There there is Bouna's younger brother Cooli who's wife is Seynabu and their child Fili who is a bit older than Tene. Another brother of Bouna's also lives in the compound but is in and out. Then next door is Mahdu and his wife Muya Mahdu is another brother of Bouna's. Their sister Masirrah also lives with them. She is deaf and watching people speak to her with their hands has been one of the most interesting parts of my short time here so far. Mahdu has 5 kids and works at the water tower that the town recently got. He's also a woodworker and farms. All of the men in the family farm, peanuts and corn are their main sources of income. The women sort of garden and do all of the cooking, cleaning and child rearing. The one thing about the men in the Fofana family is that they are among the most kind, patient, and interested/interesting men I've met so far during my time in Senegal. They will sit with me as I ask them questions, they won't yell at me to speak as Raki has done, and they are very sweet to their young children.
It has been exhausting getting used to this new pace of life. I got strep throat again...But otherwise I'm learning to become a more patient, more relaxed person. So much work happens, but slowly, day by day. They say that here in the Peace Corps, days go by slowly and months rush by. I've felt that, but I also love spending the day with the kids in my family, wandering around my village, or helping in the peanut fields. The manual labor is exhausting in itself in Senegal. Everyday I pull water from a bidon from the well in our compound, 30 meters down, which is pretty deep for a water table here. Harvesting peanuts, and the work they put into their fields is amazing but sometimes I wonder if their physical exertion is worth the amount of money they get for all of their hard labor. I guess at this point it is their only option. Let's just hope that the rains will fall harder and more frequently in the years to come!
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| Always a Vermonter |
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| work table |
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| Bed, with my mosquito net cocoon, front door |
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| My roof |
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| Bathroom; I hope to plant a banana tree there in that hole |
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| backdoor; outside yard; I do my laundry here |
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| bathroom: we call it douche here |
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| My garden |
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Moving to Botu
Today is the day! It feels a lot like the Dr. Seuss book, Oh, the places you'll go right now. Today after visits to government officials in Tamba, I will be driven in my last official Peace Corps approved ride to my village of 2500 people and install into Botu. I will also be accompanied by a current Agfo volunteer, a Mandinka speaker (in the Mande family) for support and company, a nice tradition. As I install we will walk around and greet the village leaders, Almami, village chief (my host father), among others. Then they will move all of my stuff into my hut...if they can fit everything, and set off! It's exciting, scary, and freeing all at the same time.
After install I'll spend 5 concentrated weeks at my site, learning as much Bambara as I can, soaking up the daily life, and settling into my new home. I've bought chalkboard paint to paint the inside walls of my hut, pictures to hang, maps to stretch out, and a beautiful garden to start planting in. The 5 week challenge is a Peace Corps tradition where volunteers try and spend 5 consecutive weeks (35 nights) in your village. This does not preclude a trip or two to skype with my family, but it is a concerted effort to show your village that you are there for them, to live with them, and to immerse yourself in what will become your life. I'm ready.
I want to thank you all for reading and commenting about my training with Peace Corps Senegal, the struggles and the successes, but do stay tuned. This is only the beginning. Now is when the real work begins, the real work partners forged, and the relationships formed across cultures.
This is where my two years in Peace Corps will be:
After install I'll spend 5 concentrated weeks at my site, learning as much Bambara as I can, soaking up the daily life, and settling into my new home. I've bought chalkboard paint to paint the inside walls of my hut, pictures to hang, maps to stretch out, and a beautiful garden to start planting in. The 5 week challenge is a Peace Corps tradition where volunteers try and spend 5 consecutive weeks (35 nights) in your village. This does not preclude a trip or two to skype with my family, but it is a concerted effort to show your village that you are there for them, to live with them, and to immerse yourself in what will become your life. I'm ready.
I want to thank you all for reading and commenting about my training with Peace Corps Senegal, the struggles and the successes, but do stay tuned. This is only the beginning. Now is when the real work begins, the real work partners forged, and the relationships formed across cultures.
This is where my two years in Peace Corps will be:
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