Dancing out malaria

I had a very interesting encounter the other day in my village. First off, let me just say that very few things happen in the day-to-day life here to make any specific day that memorable. For instance, the other day a man in my family got engaged making the woman and children have a little drumming dance party for an hour. We are still talking about it 3 days later.

The other big event that occurred was a doctor's visit to speak about malaria. I was informed about this occasion two days beforehand and was quite intrigued. Upon the day of his arrival I was excited to finally have something on my schedule for the day! At around 4 pm I followed children who were collecting plastic chairs and bringing them to a central area of my village by the road and underneath a massive baobab tree. I found a group of toddlers watching 3 men set up large speakers which they had hooked up to an antiquated music mixing table. Intrigued, I sat down to watch.

I was soon joined by members of my possy who began to do the typical mid-day hair braiding and gossip. After about 45 minutes of this, with no doctor in sight nor musical distraction, I was getting pretty antsy. Eventually the Senegalese popular music that to me sounds like a weird loud electronic noise but to them sounds like an invitation to shake their hips began. As confused as I was by this unexpected dance party, it did work to draw a crowd. Within minutes the crowd grew to about 150 gawkers, hoping to see someone other than a 5 year-old make a fool of themselves dancing. 

(Eventually an American song was played and I successfully embarrassed myself to the entertainment of everyone by singing out loud and shaking around.)

Before delving into details on the “malaria expert's” speech, I will go briefly into something that I have observed in my village and find fascinating- the culture of dance here. First off, as I found in Ghana and lets be honest, this is true with African Americans as well, people here can DANCE! The Jaxanke style consists of hunching over slightly and flapping your arms with a slight bend at the elbow as if one is preparing to take flight. In the meantime, one's feet are stomping to the rhythm of the drum beat (that is usually produced by banging two sticks on a bucket) and one's buttock impressively protrudes upwards. Some days, for the amusement of others I have attempted to reproduce this odd ostrich-like dance that they somehow make look attractive. My performance has resulted in lots of laughs and me looking like I pulled my back muscle and am having arm spasms.

Other than the unexpected style of Senegalese dance, the gender and age dynamics of society really come out with dance. I only once saw a male and female approach each other in the dance arena and it was a husband and wife. EVERYONE talked about how scandalous it was after. At least in the light of day, men and women are completely segregated in the dancing and social area. The men have a circle and the woman have another area, several feet away. These unspoken rules extend to the youth as well making discourse across sexes very mysterious to an outside observer.

So going back to malaria. The doctor from Dialacoto (the bigger town 2km from me) did show up resulting in an immediate scramble to assemble the microphone. After about 15 minutes of the screeching noise that a microphone makes when it is too close to a speaker, people realized the simple truth that when standing farther from the speaker, the horrendous sound does not occur, thus allowing the doctor's discussion to commence.

He started by reading off a paper in French that summarized some basic info about him coming here and malaria season. The fact that he began in French baffles me as it was an immediate trigger for people to not pay attention as 90% of the crowd present does not speak French. The celebrated doctor did switch over to Jaxanke but not quickly enough to stop girls from resume their hair braiding, women to resume their gossip and little boys to resume their wrestling matches. 

After a short 2 minutes, he handed the microphone over to two 16 year-old boys from my family who led the rest of the discussion. While my Jaxanke comprehension is not spectacular, from what I gathered they continued to emphasize the severity of the malaria, reminding the crowd that people die from this illness and to go to the hospital when one feels ill. 

I was impressed with how people took the initiative to generate this discussion on malaria. I had certainly not expected for this sort of domain to be present and was unable to decipher who organized and funded it. My apathy was extended towards the youth who made a dedicated but failed attempt at drawing the crowd's interest by asking questions and occasionally turning the music on for a few seconds. 

Through the gossip and chit-chat they continued to read out of their notebooks, emphasizing the need to protect the pregnant woman and children from malaria. This is a common misconception about malaria, it is a disease that pregnant mothers and children alone need to protect themselves from. So far, I have observed that this misconception is generated due to the fact that pregnant woman alone can receive a free mosquito net free of charge from my health clinic. While this can be viewed as a good program because it ensures that they obtain the net, it also communicates the message that they alone need to sleep underneath the net. My family even goes so far as to put the 5 month old baby under the net during the day in 110 degree weather, with no mosquitoes in sight because of the fear of disease.

 But with that said, I do not think that giving free nets to everyone is the answer as so many NGOs and international organizations have done because this sends the message of, 'oh they are free, I can get one anytime, I will use it to cover my garden because a new one will come next year'. In truth, I have seen more nets on plants then sleeping people. 

Ok so enough of my net rant, going back to the malaria discussion. After another 40 minutes of utter frustration, I too was getting antsy and contemplating leaving when I heard 'Fanta Mamayo!!!' come through the speakers. All I could think was 'oh crap, I am going to have to embarrass myself again in front of all these people by speaking in Jaxanke!' So I nervously made my way up to the microphone. The one benefit to being the white tobab, even if my language sucks, is that everyone did shut up for a second to see what I had to say. While I wished I had reviewed my malaria vocab, I was able to spit out the importance of sleeping under a net and that the mosquitoes with disease come out only at night (something most people here do not know). I reminded people to go to the hospital when ill and come to me with questions! Phewwww!

While none of that was ideal, being able to watch and participate in the half dance, half discussion was a good motivator and learning lesson for me when I try to hold my own causeries. I learned several things: 

First off, the smaller the better and dividing people according to age is key.

Secondly, the simpler, the better. People here to not like to pay attention.

Thirdly, looking official with papers, notes and diagrams gives people the impression that you are really legit and they loveeee that!

Lastly, they do like hearing some music played and see a white person dance!

In the place of pregnant land

Generally I am not a fan of writing blogs that are long narratives detailing 'this is what I did this day, then I went there the next day, then I ate that for dinner, blah blah blah'. BUT I am going to give into my distaste and recount to you all of the boring details of my time in Kedougou. Primarily because I want to make you all jealous of all the cool things I get to do!!! (Come and visit and we can do these things too!)

First off, Kedougou is the region to the east of Tambacounda (where I am) and boarders Mali to the east and Guinea to the south. From my site, it is 150 km along a decently paved road to the city of Kedougou which feels more like a sprawled village than a regional capital as there is little in terms of larger structures and 'Western' style stores. But due to its reputation as the prettiest region in Senegal, Kedougou has several very nice hotels overlooking the Gambia river to accommodate the tourists who frequent the city.

I realized that there is a major geographical characteristic of Senegal that I have not yet addressed on my blog. Senegal is flat. Like, there are no hills anywhere. When I am biking and I can see the approaching road rise a few meters I think, oh man, here comes a hill! My legs burn just thinking about biking the hills of Berkeley right now. 

Getting back to Kedougou- there are mountains! Well, not really mountains, but there are hills and greenery! Due to the lush, rippling landscape and the Gambia river flowing through, Kedougou is stunning. 

Aside from the beautiful scenery, I enjoyed Kedougou because more people in this region speak Jaxanke (unlike Tamba where very few people in the city respond to my Jaxanke greetings). Because of the geographic location next to Mali and Guinea, both of which are dominated by Manden languages, I was able to use my Jaxanke. Resulting from the lack of acclivity, I had been unable to learn the word for 'hill' until I arrived in Kedougou- 'banko konoma'. A literal translation of this is 'pregnant land', which, if you think about it, is quite logical although I dont know how many pregnant American women would appreciate being equated with mountains.

So now, my bragging will commence. Myself, Anna (my site mate) and Alecia (a fellow Cal grad- we had classes together but never knew each other), left the city of Kedougou for a small village in the hills, 5km from Guinea. After dropping off our backpacks and ordering a chicken dinner that takes 5 hours to prepare as the chicken is SUPER fresh, we decided to brave the storm that was approaching and leave for a hike to the waterfall of Segu. While trekking through a valley the storm hit and became immediately drenched. The 10 minutes of down pour stopped suddenly and the clouds parted in front of us, allowing for our soaked clothes to dry in minutes.

The bush path that began this lovely trek was well marked and easy to follow until it dead ended at a creek.

 

From there, the 'trail' consisted of hopping over, in and through the creek for over an hour which was an excellent test of my balance and tolerance of nasty slimy things being squished between my toes.

Just when we were thinking that maybe we followed the wrong creek and got lost, we reached the waterfall. We happily waded into the ice cold water and I of course could not give up the opportunity to climb up on a ledge by the fall. Dont worry mom! It was totally safe :) 

 

The next day we woke up early and walked to a near by village, Dindenfello, and hike to the waterfall there. I had been informed that the waterfall of Dindenfello was much more magnificent and I must admit, it is.









The falls of Dindenfello rises over 150 meters into the sky and cascades down the rock wall into a refreshing pool of water that I could not give up the opportunity to swim in. When I thought it could not be any more beautiful, I realized that when standing to the left of the fall, one could see a rainbow that circled around and through the fall. The only thing that could have made it better was if I also found a pot of gold.

As it is the start of the rainy season, the falls had a decent flow but I was informed that in a month time they become even more beautiful.

The remainder of my time in Kedougou was split up between visiting the sites of 3 fellow volunteers. I started in Chip's village, a short 8km bike ride out of Kedougou city where the infamous Senegalese hospitality was validated to me. We decided to stay an extra day because his family INSISTED on make me a special lunch with goat meat.


I was happy take the extra time not only because of the chance to eat meat, but because we got to take the trek to the river where women, young and old, go to wash things from clothing, to pots, to floor mats. Like the good Senegalese woman I am, I carried laundry on my head, which always gets the crowd giggling.

The cultural by the river is fascinating. This day was especially crowded due to the rain that was forecast for later on.

The shore is segregated via age group, the older the woman the better rock to stand by, which they then use as a washing board and whacking place for dirty clothing. My favorite part of the river is the fishing. Young girls tie fishing line with hooks to the end of sticks and wade into the river until they the water rises to their stomach. Pounded corn that is formed into a ball shape is used as fish bait, which works surprisingly well! Within a minute a small fish about the size of your palm is caught, smacked on the surface of the river to kill, and saved in a bowl to fry up for later. Boney and not too tastey but better than nothing!

 After Chip's village, we biked the 20 km of hills to Chrissy's village where we were honored with 2 dinners. The next morning we biked to Saraya where our language seminar was held in the home of Annie and Patrick, the sweet married couple from our PC stage group. Six of us spent the next 3 days with a Jaxanke/Malinke language teacher, asking questions about phrases that I have heard for the past month but could never quite figure out. 

After an action packed two weeks I was happy to return to Tamba to do a little 'interneting' until I depart for my village later today. I anxiously await some privacy and relaxation time that I get there, although I anticipate that I will try out my green thumb in the next few days and go to the peanut fields. I'll let you know how I do!

Ataya

There is an infinite number of themes, stories, random rants and topics that I want to focus on but I have decided to write about something that is vital to Senegalese culture, and I find extremely frustrating- tea.

First off, I need to explain that there is a series of very specific and complex steps that one follows in order to make Senegalese ataya tea. It is not the easy tea bag you throw into hot water. 

Step one, the children fetch the hot charcoal to place on the mini stove where the pot of water sits upon  until a boil. The tea here comes in small cardboard boxes with one bag of open leaves that is all used up per-brew. It is purchased for 100 cfa or 20 cents. At a boil, 3/4ths of the leaves are poured in and then sit for over 20 minutes. After a sufficient amount of time the bag of sugar, about 1 cup full that is purchased for the same price as the tea, is then slowly poured upon the liquid leaf substance. For the first round, 1/4^th of the bag is poured in. Then the brewer pours part of the hot substance into shot sized glasses and alternates pouring the tea from one glass to another, making a foam at the top of the glass. This is done for aesthetics, to mix the tea, and in my opinion, to prolong the process.

After more sugar adding and more tea mixing, the tea is served. First to be drunk by the most respected person present, usually an elderly male who purchased the tea, then elderly females and down from there. In my village, they fill the cups up half way to stretch the amount out and share the precious golden liquid amongst 8 or so people. After the first round is gone, the process is repeated using the old leaves and the other ½ cup of sugar.

During training I found it be frustrating mainly because it was such a 'male only' act. The men would use it as an excuse to sit around and do nothing for 2 hours during the middle of the day. It was not acceptable for woman to make it and the youngest boy was called upon to brew this shot glass of hot, sugary deliciousness. 

While the gender aspect and the infiltration of laziness from the tea making culture I still find frustrating, the finanial aspect of ataya currently frustrates me more. (The other day I was biking home and found my father at the side of the road, sitting next to his field brewing tea with 4 other men. This was their 'day at the fields')

200 cfa, or 40 cents USD may not seem like a lot of money but it can go very far here. For instance, when I go fukijay shopping (buy used clothing that has been shipped in from the US, you would be amazed at the cute stuff I find!), a skirt, shirt or dress is all 100cfa! Also a large mango, baguette with beans and onion sauce (yumm), small bag of onions, half a kilo of bananas, are all 200 cfa. So while, it is not like this could buy an entire meal, it is a considerable amount of money, and people constantly ask me to buy them these things, but especially tea. There is one woman who I cannot pass during the day without her asking me if I bought and drank tea yet today. When Anna visits, its ohhh buy tea for her, when I am reading it is ohhh buy tea and when I am cracking peanuts its ohhh tea would go well with this. AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

My large Tanjan family is not wealthy nor extremely impoverished but they could use the extra 200 cfa. There is rarely meat or veggies in our meals, they fight over small packets of spices that cost 25cfa and they jealously gawk when I eat a mango. But still, they drink tea on the daily. 

From my perspective, Ataya tea is a superfluous expense, money that could quite easily be used on things that they ask me to buy for them- like medicine or healthy food options- but they choose this sweet golden liquid over curing an infection.

So due to my title as a health volunteer I am using ataya as my first 'health' project. With every shot, one is ingesting several tablespoons of sugar, which we know to not be great for you. Now whenever I am offered tea, I explain that sugar is not healthy for one's body and that fruit is a better sugar option (dont tell anyone I just ate 2 handfuls of Skittles in my hut). Due to this health aspect and the fact that financially, this money could go so far elsewhere, I have taken a pledge that is occasionally difficult to stand by. I will not buy tea nor will I drink tea for the remainder of my stay in Senegal. I will inform you as to how long my rebellion lasts.

Leaving for Kedagou- 4th of July celebration with 200 other PCVs, followed by visits to waterfalls and a meeting with my Jaxanke teacher for intensive language learning- it will be a fun 2 weeks! Ill try my best to keep you all informed!