Work and Play

sama muus - ki moo ma sonnal

The first month of 2014 brought me successes and failures in my working life, an all-night party in my village, and a lovable hellion of a kitten. I had no intention of adopting a pet, but after this guy showed up right my door and mewled for a solid 12 hours I broke down. The Wolof word for milk is "meew," so my host mother ordered me to buy some powdered milk to appease the kitten's cry of "meow, meow, meow." He is a joy and a terror. In terms of work, I started a series of hygiene and nutrition lessons at my elementary school. The highlight so far was covering kids hands in glitter and oil to teach them about handwashing. Now when I see kids around town they always say, "Arame, my hands have microbes on them. I need soap to clean them!" Success.

Idrissa seeding lettuce and tomatoes

I also had the brilliant idea to start a home garden to demonstrate how easy and affordable it can be to grow your own nutritious lunch ingredients. Hah! Failure. I invited my three favorite agricultural volunteers over to create garden beds with amended soil and seed lettuce, tomatoes, moringa, sunflowers, and marigolds. Currently the moringa is (cautiously) growing while all the others fell victim to heat, bad seeds, chickens, birds, crickets, squirrels, and/or cat attacks. I complained to my host mom that I watered and watered until I wanted to die (transporting 200 liters/day is no joke) and all I cultivated was a sore back. All in all, I learned a lot about gardening, patience, and humility and am excited to try again in late February.

breastfeed exclusively for six months: no food, no water

At my health hut, I decided to paint a series of murals inside the maternity ward to educate new mothers. Women in my village are incredibly responsive to visual aides and since most of them are illiterate, murals are a great teaching tool. New mothers usually hang around the health hut with their mothers, sisters, aunts, etc. for four or five hours after giving birth and basically they all just sit around and stare at each other and the walls and the new baby. Now they will be forced to stare at my murals! My first mural encourages exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months of the child's life and has been very well received. Success. Next mural: young children's nutritional needs.

my host sister and myself: matchy matchy

But enough work, let's play! In January we had Gamou, the celebration of Prophet Muhammed's birthday. There was a celebration mid-month that was pretty low-key in my village, then we re-celebrated at the end of the month in a big way. The event was referred to as a "jangi," like a study session, and I think even now that I might have hallucinated parts of it. Here's how it all went down. During the day a car rolled in and unpacked and installed a gigantic tent, speaker system, christmas lights, a laptop, and a bunch of plastic chairs. We ate a particularly delicious dinner (spaghetti and chicken) around ten pm, donned our matching outfits, and convened in the tent around midnight. For the next seven hours (!) we sat in our chairs and listened to a group of men in the middle scream and sing and chant prayers and make speeches. The sitting was punctuated by demure dancing around the men and throwing money in a collective pile in the middle. It was strangely thrilling to be wearing the same outfit as two hundred other women and up all night in an environment that usually sees me in bed at nine pm.

prayers in the front, matching outfits in the back

Of course the night had its ups and downs. My mood peaked from about three am to six am, dancing and taking pictures. Then I was consumed by feeling annoyed at the hearing loss I was no doubt sustaining and angry at the men who came around to hassle me when I fell asleep in my chair. Luckily around seven they passed out coffee and we had one final dance circle and prayer recitation before everyone scattered to go home for breakfast and all day naps. Most people slept until five pm and I felt like I was participating in an 800 person hangover. And it was great.

he strikes this pose pretty frequently

 Overall, I've been enjoying the so-called cool season - high temperatures only in the low nineties! - and living happily with my family and friends in village. How could I not be enjoying life when my little brother shows up like this at my door in the mornings? He's been cranky lately, so I taught his mom the phrase "terrible twos" and she uses it daily. It's been almost a year since I touched down in Senegal and somehow I'm still filled with excitement about future work and play here. Right now I'm on my way to a country-wide conference followed by a country-wide party. We're hosting the West African International Softball Tournament (WAIST), which is sure to be an unparalleled experience. I'm excited for some big city life after a month in Ngar and to bring new ideas back with me.

Harvest Time in Ngar

a monstrous peanut pile

First of all, Happy New Year to all! Second of all, if you're not interested in the process of peanut harvesting in Sub-Saharan Africa, I'm sorry to say that this blog post is not for you. 

In Ngar Gueye, the months of November and December were consumed by field work. Devoured by it. I'm talking ten hour days seven days a week. I'm talking about an entire village mobilizing to complete the harvest - ages five to sixty-five. I'm talking about no lunch breaks, no naps, no social visits, no nothing. My village is nestled right in the middle of the so-called peanut basin of Senegal and what a labor intensive crop they are! I thought the harvest process was fascinating, maybe just because I was living in the middle of it or because it provides enough cash to sustain my entire community until next harvest time. Whatever the reason, I was interested enough to participate and gather intimate knowledge about the harvest. What exactly are the steps that get peanuts from the ground to the market? I thought you'd never ask!

an even more monstrous peanut pile

 Previously I'd posted photos of peanut plants getting plowed by metal plows drawn by horses. (So many P's in that sentence!) After the plants are uprooted, women and children (and me) walk through the fields gathering the plants into small piles. After a few weeks in the sun, the plants get crusty and hard and men return to the fields to pile them on top of charettes, transporting them into even bigger piles. At this point, the peanuts are all still connected to the rest of the plant, hanging out in big monster piles. 

separating peanuts from the rest

Up until now, each family is more or less responsible for their own fields. But once the peanut piles have reached maximum size, men work together with whittled sticks to beat them until the peanuts are more or less separated from their stalks. Once the piles have been beaten to satisfaction, women return to the fields to separate the peanut pods from the rest. In my opinion, this is the most fun step of the process (fun for me because I could quit when my shoulders ached aka after thirty minutes or so). Women use the wind of cool season to blow the stalks away while the heavier peanuts fall straight down into a pile. After trying my hand at it, I quickly realized why every woman in my village has seriously defined arm and shoulder muscles. Once the peanuts are separated, they are bagged into ten kilo plastic sacks and transported to the nearest town to be sold.

final step: no peanut left behind

But the fun's not over! My family has a strict no peanut left behind policy when it comes to the harvest, resulting in the most tedious and least glamorous step of the process: peanut hunting. It's a task that I was encouraged to spend hours upon hours participating in, which I was somewhat willing to do until my host mother sustained a scorpion bite in the sand. Then I started a mural instead. Anyway, peanut hunting is just what it sounds like: sifting through every patch of sand in the field to gather runaway peanuts until they've all been collected. And voilà - harvest complete!

new fences for all

 There was a mad dash to finish the harvest by December 22nd, the date of a huuuuuuuuge holiday for the Mouride Brotherhood of Islam in Senegal. The holiday is called Maggal and entails a pilgrimage to the holy city of Touba. I was invited by my family, but wary of the crowds I headed to Dakar instead to celebrate the joint birthday of my friend Katie Curtis and my wonderful beautiful amazing mother! I stuck around for Christmas with my fellow volunteers and went north to St. Louis for a spectacular New Year's Eve. I am returning to village today, inchallah, to hear about how my family passed the holiday season and get back into the hang of things. 

baobab fruit 

The harvest was an exciting, exhausting, and educational time. I enjoyed the knowledge I gained but was challenged by the busyness of my fellow villagers. It made health work a fringe activity and my house a quiet and lonely place. Now that harvest season is over, we're flush with peanuts to sell, millet stalks to make new fences, bissap flowers for next Ramadan, and a huge pile of fruit from our baobab trees. The pods dangle in a Seussical way from the trees until boys knock them down. The fuzzy durable pods are filled with a white chalky substance with a faintly citrusy flavor. A great treat to have stored in my backyard! Well, back to village with me - hope y'all enjoyed your peanut harvest tutorial.

A Busy October

October was a shockingly busy month for me! It kicked off with excitement on the second, when my health hut hosted an event to sensitize mothers in my village about common childhood diseases. We focused on the symptoms, treatment, and prevention of diarrhea in children under five, which is super prevalent in my village from September through December. After lunch that day a donkey cart pulled up with microphones and speakers and a car battery to get the party started. About 100 women showed up with their kids and had the opportunity to share their knowledge over the loudspeakers. Mothers that correctly answered our questions won prizes of laundry soap, handwashing soap, bleach, powdered milk, and sugar. I was blown away by the knowledge these women already possessed, including danger signs of dehydration and specific recipes for mixing oral rehydration salts. It was a fun and educational afternoon and maybe the best part was that everyone in the village was subjected to hours of loudspeaker education whether they wanted it or not!

The fun continued over Tabaski, the huge Muslim holiday celebrating Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son to obey the will of the divine. Abraham's faith not only saved his son's life, but got them a delicious animal to sacrifice instead! In my village we celebrated this ancient event with a delicious animal of our own, a ram. Tabaski is a multi-day holiday that involves a great deal of praying and socializing and family time and is quite lovely. But for me it was all about the ram. He showed up in our compound a few days before Tabaski and happily munched on grass and tried to fight our donkey, clueless as to the upcoming holiday. I tried to give him a head's up the day before so he could savor his last meals and sunset, but I'm not sure he understood my Wolof. On the morning of Tabaski my family members donned their fancy holiday outfits and headed to the mosque to pray and greet everyone else in the village. Then they returned home and spent the better day transforming our ram from this docile creature...

into this savory lunch! Lunch was really fun because my entire neighboring family came over and ate with us. Instead of my ten person family we all of a sudden had fifty people around our lunch bowls! I loved it. And all morning I got to watch the various stages in between live ram and lunch, which I have decided to withhold from this blog. Let's just say we used every part of the animal and my vegetarian parents would have been horrified. My host dad grilled various cuts of meat on this tiny charcoal grill, one mom and I made onion sauce for lunch, another mom fried up some potato wedges, and my third mom made a tasty beverage from mango juice and yogurt and ice - yum! I also enjoyed observing the various methods my family used to make the meat last for all four days of Tabaski, including drying it in the sun and packing it with salt. It was all so Laura Ingalls Wilder. In the evening I put on a fancy dress and walked around town with some friends to greet everyone and meet all the family members that were in town from Dakar. It was a wonderful holiday!

After Tabaski I spent a week having some crazy eye-opening experiences with various Senegalese health structures, which I'll write about later. Then I hosted an American study abroad student who has been living in Dakar since September. I was nervous before she arrived that she wouldn't be able to roll with the adventure of life in village, but she couldn't have been a more enthusiastic guest! She even came to the fields with me and my family because we were smack in the midst of harvest season. The photo to the right is my friend's peanut field. The men direct metal plows pulled by horses and the women follow behind and gather the peanuts into bundles and carry them home.

I continue to be amazed by the work ethic of every single member of my community when I go to the fields. My guest and I worked for about an hour in the late afternoon and spent the rest of the afternoon in the shade playing with the kids. Meanwhile, my neighbors aged fourteen to sixty worked in the field for six to nine hours a day in the October sun, which is quite hot. The average temperature is still around 100 degrees every day of October. But there's so much work to be done - beans and millet have been harvested, peanuts are in the works, and corn is up next. The photo on the left shows the collection of millet stalks after harvest.

Health work, holidays, harvest season, October had it all going on! Because so many people travel to be with their families for Tabaski, there was a rash of weddings in my village. Also, I don't know if it was the sudden protein overload from ram meat or what, but four babies were born in the week following Tabaski, meaning four baptisms were hosted the following week. Everyone was thoroughly exhausted from all the socializing at the end of the month and needed a nice nap, like my brother in the photo to the right. Coming up in November is the continuation of harvest season and, allegedly, the introduction of cold season. I am feeling skeptical about that, considering the daily high temperature in my village has not dipped below 95 degrees in the six months since I moved in.

Last week I experienced an unusually non-sweaty morning and I called a friend to share my excitement about cool season. She let me know that we were experiencing a solar eclipse and quipped, "a cool day in Senegal is more rare than a solar eclipse." True enough. Stay tuned for cool season!

A Study Of: Sanse

Popenguine's stained glass

I have been in and out of my village since mid-August and I've seen so much of Senegal! Life outside of village is crazy - so much to see and do in the big wide world. Beginning on my birthday and ending in a surprise trip to Dakar, the past six weeks have been a variety of things, but predominantly sanse - the Wolof word for fancy. Here's a play by play of the past chunk of time accompanied by the fanciest photos I have to offer.

On my birthday (August 14th - I turned 24!) my dear friend Katie trekked out to my village to celebrate with me. I bought two chickens, two kilos of macaroni, and an undisclosed amount of oil for my birthday dinner. It ended up being so much food! I had a special dish brought into my hut to share with my toubab guests and my four closest friends from village. The rest of my family all ate together and my moms prepared dishes to send to our neighbors as well. It was a delicious day!

Dakar's finest chilled red wine

A few days later my whole stage convened at the beautiful Thies training center to begin our In Service Training. But before we got to work we had some fun at Accrobaobab Adventure Park, an amazing adventure course set in the tops of Senegal's signature baobab trees! It involved harnesses and pulleys and surpassed my every expectation. The three weeks of training was a great opportunity to talk with and learn from older volunteers and get excited about planning projects in my village!

the height of the sanse Dakar lifestyle

After all that hard work, twenty of my closest friends and I spent a few days at the beach to unwind - phew! I visited the cathedral in Popenguine and was blown away by the beautiful stained glass there! There was a black Madonna sighting in Popenguine, which has inspired an annual pilgrimage and the gorgeous cathedral. We also enjoyed sunsets and fireworks and and many naps on the beach trip. After Popenguine I took a short trip up to St. Louis, the capital of the colony of Senegal up until 1902. I was entranced by the water, the history, the bridge, the food. It felt a lot like Charleston, SC and I loved it!

peace corps volunteers' coffee haven

I finally returned to my village after that - a long month away it had been! Everything was so much bigger when I got home - knee height crops were now above my head, baby chicks had grown into awkward teenage chickens, and my favorite two year old looked so much taller. I did some really exciting work in village that I would love to write about once it has developed a bit more. Then I headed out with my neighbor/counterpart/health worker to a Peace Corps training in Toubacouta, which I now know to be the most beautiful part of Senegal! It's located west of my home on the delta with salty water, islands, and mangroves galore. I had a stunningly productive three days of training there and got to play with bioluminescence for the first time! Unfortunately I sustained a minor injury on the last day and was rushed to Dakar for medical treatment.

in Dakar, on the road to recovery!

I am well on my way to being healed and very happy with the care I received from Peace Corps. And I got to spend a weekend exploring Dakar! It was a truly self-indulgent time with mornings of lattes and bagels, afternoons sipping red wine on a pier, and evenings of sushi rolls and green papaya salad. What a food filled extravaganza! I also got to walk along the beach, explore downtown, and wander through a Pulaar market. Right now I'm on my way back to village and hoping to stay put until Halloween! Big holiday of Tabaski is coming up too - nothing but excitement in October! PS. I have killed about six mosquitos while typing this blog post - take that, malaria!

Ramadan: My Weer u Koor

fallen bird's nest - beautiful

I have to admit: I’m a terrible Muslim. I only fasted for sixteen days of the month of Ramadan this year. And while the rest of my family was doing their five-times-daily prayers, I snuck into my hut to drink water, something a good Muslim would never do. I’m happy to report that my family is much more devout than I: no food or drink passed their lips from sunup to sundown, even when they spent all day in the fields under the hot Senegalese sun. I realized how serious they were about fasting on day two, when I watched my sister sample some dough she was mixing. I was shocked to see her place a bit on her tongue but I thought, hey it’s just a little taste and I’d probably do the same in her position. To my surprise, she proceeded to assess the quality of the dough, spit it out, then rinse her mouth with water and spit that water out as well. I got the message: Ramadan ain’t no joke.

naps on naps on naps!

A month is a long time for any holiday, especially one like Ramadan, which is filled with highs and lows. Some of the lows are severe: for me it was hardest to witness the physical and mental toll that fasting took on my friends and family. Their lives during this season are extremely physically taxing, which was plain to see on my mom’s face, in my neighbor’s eyes. Other lows weren’t quite so serious. Most days of Ramadan contained a solid block of time in the afternoon during which all (and I mean ALL) adults were asleep, resulting in wild packs of children running around town. This qualified as a low for me because it was as if some apocalyptic event had visited but only killed off people over age twelve. I did not enjoy being left among the survivors.

two chickens ready to be cooked

The highs, as per usual, revolved mostly around food. Not the porridge I ate every morning at 4:45 am; no, not that food. The good food came at sundown, when everyone’s spirits lifted at the thought of nourishment. My family broke fast every evening with a date and a cup of coffee (everyone got coffee, from age two to sixty) and water – with ice, what a luxury! After a break for prayers, a second round of coffee was served along with beignets and bisap flower juice. We ate dinner late, around ten or so, and sometimes had fancy food – like chicken! Yum!

fried food! alhamdoulilah!

Obviously I enjoyed breaking fast, but my favorite part of the day was the two hours prior to sundown, when the preparations began. One of my sisters, who is around sixteen, was on beignet duty every night. She made big beignets for adults and minis for the kids and flipped them using a stick. Any holiday that includes fried food is one after my own heart. Another of my sisters, who is around twelve and experienced her second fast this year, was in charge of coffee prep. She began by building a fire and hand roasting the beans in the flames. Then she ground them using the mortar and pestle, the signature tool of the Senegalese kitchen, while boiling water over the fire. The grounds went into a homemade filter and then all the coffee went back in the pot to stay warm until the time for consumption arrived.

fresh, delicious, hot coffee

dad and kids with the TV

Another high of Ramadan was the introduction of a television into our nightlife! I love our little TV because it is black and white and the one channel it receives is always fuzzy. I also love that we watch it outdoors exclusively. The evening call to prayer was broadcast on TV every night followed by the news, which was delivered in French and therefore unintelligible to everyone at my house. Once every two weeks or so, a weekend night would bring the excitement of an American movie! I always tuned in for those and told my family that no, I couldn’t understand the French dialogue, but yes, I enjoyed just looking at the United States.

winter fashion 2013

The past month also saw the arrival of the rainy season. It didn’t really show up until the beginning of August, but better late than never I suppose. It was truly astonishing to see how quickly the sandy ground surrounding my village turned into fields with either orderly rows of crops or densely tangled grasses and weeds. All of a sudden the trees had leaves, the eggplant plants in my backyard grew little purple veggies, and my family had an insane amount of work on their hands. These days every single one of my family members goes to the fields every single day. One of my moms will come home to tend to household affairs, but everyone else just works and works and works. Thankfully the rain also knocked the temperature down a few degrees. The cool air is a delicious treat, especially because I get to see my family’s winter wardrobes!

clouds at sunset

All in all, the past month has provided much insight into the nature of Islam in Senegal. Ramadan is in the spirit of one of my favorite results of religious action: humility. There is something incredibly powerful and awe-inspiring about the nature of sacrifice. To repeat that sacrifice over and over every day for thirty days, to commit so wholeheartedly to it, is inspirational. And it encourages a sense of gratitude and humility that is nothing but positive. Many days I felt myself getting cranky due to the heat, the hunger, the exhaustion. But it was easy to put my problems in perspective by thinking of how much harder it was for everyone else. And to remember that the point of Ramadan is to experience the heat, the hunger, etc, and live through the difficulty. If it were easy, it would be pointless. Also, Ramadan finally got everyone else as interested in the sunset as much as I am! Alhamdoulilah!

Fêtes on fêtes on fêtes!

my mother contemplating her reflection

 Senegalese social affairs are designed as full-on assualts of all five senses. The big three of Senegalese social events are: weddings, baptisms, and funerals. Baptisms, called ngentes, are by far the most prevalent. A typical ngente is an all day affair that begins with the typical kind of religious activity you would expect. In the morning, the village’s imam comes to the home of the newborn and shaves its head, proclaims its name, and blesses its newly formed life. Once that business is done, the baby is promptly stashed away somewhere safe, not to be seen for the rest of the day. The mother is rushed off to the salon for a truly remarkable hair and make-up ordeal and I honestly could not tell you anything about the father's day because men and women exist in such separate spheres socially. 

let the sitting begin!

The afternoon is when the real fun starts! All of the men, women, and children in the village and neighboring villages dress to the nines and flock to the house of the new baby. Then the main activity of Senegalese parties commences: sitting. Don't get me wrong, sitting is plenty of entertainment because you get to stare at everyone's fancy outfits. The hosts usually erect a tent so everyone can squeeze into the shade. Ladies and men sit separately and most kids run wild and crazy. We sit. We talk. And after a few hours, we earn the excitement of: food! 

a portion of the dirty dishes - yikes

Lunch is obviously a highlight, not only because food is always a highlight of my day, but especially because party day food means - meat! After eating rice and fish every single day for lunch, nothing beats a nice hunk of goat in the lunch bowl. The party food hierarchy is as follows: goat with rice for ngentes, goat spaghetti for weddings, and beef for funerals. Yum! But I enjoy lunch for more than the simple satiation of my own gluttonous appetites - I love watching the prep of lunch because it's done in such mass quantities! Imagine cooking lunch for hundreds of people with no kitchen - it's a cooperative effort between the men, who kill the goats, and the women, who do everything else. My favorite part of the process is after the food is plated (or bowled, in this case) when the men hoist all the bowls above their heads and march out in a line, rice and goat held high to be delivered to a group of hungry guests. 

traditional ngente/ceet make-up

After everyone's bellies are full and fingers licked clean, the real fun begins. The mother arrives back at home, usually by automobile (!) and everyone admires her beautiful transformation. Suffice it so say make up is utilized quite differently in Senegal than the United States. Then, finally, the music and dancing begins! In my village they favor metal bowls and plastic buckets for percussion and boy, can the women sing! It starts out pretty tame with a few women dancing in front of the mother but before you know it, the drummers are worked up into a frenzy. Women are dancing like crazy, kicking sand up everywhere, and absolutely everyone is making a ruckus and dripping in sweat. I can not do justice to the style of dance I've seen in village, nor am I sure I should divulge the particulars to the internet world at large. Here is my best attempt: skilled, rhythmic, raunchy, and filled with stomping. Everyone, and I mean everyone, in my village can dance and its a wonderful experience to see the women let loose and have fun. 

some kids dropping a beat

But back to the full-on assault. At this point in the ngente, your eyes are not only overwhelmed by the bright colors and lively patterns of Wolof women's wear, they forever have the vision of some crazy dance moves imprinted on them. Due to the heat, the stiff fancy fabric you're wearing, and the proximity of other sweaty bodies, you're covered in sweat and probably sand as well. Women are grabbing your hands, falling over you and themselves, and in general having less than none private space. You've still got the taste of goat and hot pepper mingling on you're tongue and you're absolutely parched. You can smell the lunch leftovers, the wood fires burning under coffee pots, and the cows that just so happen to live in the compound that's hosting the party. But the noise is by far the most vicious part of the attack - the clang of metal bowls, the high pitched singing, the ladies shrieking in joy and mock scandal around the dancefloor. Not to mention the fact that everyone is yelling at you in a language you still only sometimes understand - oh and the rooster is crowing and the goats are screaming next door and babies are crying after their moms drop them like hot potatoes to get to the dance floor. 

a colorful and crowded affair

One of my favorite pastimes at Senegalese social events is to play the game of how-many-seconds-does-it-take-to-find-all-the-colors-in-the-rainbow-in-my-current-line-of-sight. Usually it takes between 7 and 17 seconds, I reckon. My first chunk of time in village was sandwiched between an ngente on my third day and a ceet (wedding) on my thirty ninth day. Ceets are in the same vein as ngentes but require more endurance, as they are two day affairs with many more rituals and late night goat spaghetti. Despite the endurance test, it was a nice progress report to see how I could handle myself at the ceet - what a skill set I had developed since that first assault of my first ngente! And in the past month there have been two more ceets, three more ngentes, and one funeral, aka plenty of time for me to acclimate to the Senegalese social scene and maybe even thrive in the midst of the chaos. 

40 Days and 40 Nights

I have spent the past 40 days happily in my village, Ngar Gueye! It’s a little place with about 800 people, a primary school, and health hut, and a whole bunch of house compounds. My house is on the southeastern most side of town (Google it! But really, you can – how weird is that?) in the midst of what are soon to be fields of peanuts, millet, and corn. Everyone in my village farms and is busy prepping for the rainy season, which will allegedly come in full force in July. We have had one rain so far and what an adventure it was!

home sweet hut!

The first rain of the season is typically preceded by intense winds, which cause dust storms (the ground is all sand). Our dust storm came a few weeks ago and kicked up so much sand I could hardly see from one side of my compound to the other. My moms were all carrying about their daily lives as if nothing was happening, but I seriously considered putting on my goggles. The wind kept up all day and after dark thunder and lightning rolled in as well. The rain didn’t show up until 2 am, when I awoke to find absolutely everything in my hut covered in dust and quickly getting muddy! I stood in my doorway and marveled at the rain for a while – it had been so long since I’d seen it and it was really pouring! It was exhilarating and immediately afterwards little green sprouts started poking out of the ground all around!

my family's compound

Thankfully my hut seems to be mostly waterproof. My hut has concrete walls and a thatched roof and is really quite fancy with its window and screen doors! I have a luxurious double bed with a green mosquito net, two trunks that I have decoupaged, and a set of shelves that I filled with books and knickknacks from home. The shelves are wonderful and really make my hut a home! My compound also has a hut for my dad, a guest hut, a storage hut, a kitchen hut, and a long concrete building where my moms live. We have two neem trees that provide shade all year long as well as two horses, a donkey, and countless chickens.

mom #2 and love of my life!

 My family is AMAZING and have made the past 40 days not only tolerable, but educational, entertaining, and fun. My Senegalese dad is a mason and a farmer and a sweet and hard-working man. I have three Senegalese moms who are inspirational in their ability to juggle manual labor, homemaking, child rearing, and lively get-togethers. There are eight kids ages two to twelve that live in my house and about a billion others that run in and out all day long. It took most of the kids about a month to get over their white person fear, but now they all know what a great playmate I can be. I am head over heels for my third mom’s youngest son, who is coming up on two years old. I shamelessly give in to his every demand and even tied him to my back one day so he could experience the magic of bicycle rides.

me and my number one mom

Every month in my village and our two neighboring villages, Ngar Ja and Ngar Therere, we have growth monitoring events for all kids ages five and under. We have a scale for the babies and a band to measure arm circumference for older kids. All of the kids who are underweight come back to the health hut where we feed them a nutritious dinner and send them home with a bag of powder to make a protein shake of sorts. Participating in these events has been an interesting way to get to know my village and an excellent opportunity to hold some very tiny and very adorable babies. I’m looking forward to figuring out how exactly I can contribute to the health and wellness of my village overall and more specifically, work alongside my number one Senegalese mom, who is the matrone at the health hut.

fallen baobab tree playground

Overall it’s been a really stimulating, sweaty, and exciting beginning to the next two years of my life. I have retained my mental and physical health, alhamdoulilah. I’m developing an applicable skill set of carrying buckets of water on my head, eating rice with my hands, and joking with Wolof people. I’m looking forward to the rainy season beginning soon, the Peace Corps 4^th of July celebration, and my birthday in August! And in case you were wondering, it makes my day and even my week to see letters through the peephole in my mailbox in Guinguineo – so write me maybe!

PS. It's hard to get pictures of the interior of my hut due to its tiny size, but here are the highlights:

sama neeg - dafa rafet torop!

globe, books. obama, tiddlywinks

water filter, gas stove, bucket collection, beautiful bicycle!