Boobs!

This is a topic that is near and dear to all of our hearts- breasts. I have been wanting to address this subject primarily due to of all the stigma that is placed around breasts in America and because of the stereotypical image of the African woman being the National Geographic, topless female with a bone through her nose and nothing but a metal necklace to cover herself. Women here are MUCH looser about showing their boobs then Americans, partially due to the fact that breasts are not sexualized like they are in the states, women do not constantly walk around topless.

With that said, I do get saggy boobs in my face all the time. Unfortunately the boobs that you see are the one that you really do not want to see. After daily witnessing breasts the size of cantaloupes that sink bellow a belly button, I am concerned for the future of my bosom.

As soon as a baby has been attached to a breast it is all free game. They can leave those boobs hanging out all the time. I tell women that in the US women often use an elaborate sheet to cover themselves when breast feeding in public. The response is always confusion, bafflement, and then an exclamation of, why?! Women are meant to be proud that their breast is full of milk, it is a rite of passage into the territory of real womanhood. Shamelessly showing off their breasts is one way of saying, I am now a woman, I have children.

Before a woman breastfeeds they are more cautious about showing their breasts. In the privacy of a hut, young women will take off their shirts and fan themselves during the hot season. I am always tempted to join in this stripping. One of my favorite Jaxanke sayings that refers to me is: ‘I sunjiyo xa goleymaa ijewo ti’. Which translates to: 'your boobs are as ‘hard’ as your butt'. Meaning, I am just as shy about my breasts as I am my buttock. Contrary to most Western instinct, in Senegal, the butt is the body part that people are most shy about. Most women avoid wearing tight skirts so as to not expose the buttock.

Along the same topic, the younger women here do usually own a bra. If you consider a one size, triangular piece of cloth with straps a brassiere. While I was in the US for vacation I decided to do a small bra collection to bring back for my Senegalese family. I started out asking my mother and grandmother if they had a few extraneous bras. It quickly grew from there. Before the end of one week, thanks to the generosity of so many of you, I ended up with several trash bags worth of bras. I could have brought back more than 2 suitcases of bras alone. You all went above and beyond, bringing me the cutest, funkiest, and supportive bras, thank you!

While I could not bring back all of the bras you all so graciously donated to me, I still had over 50 bras with me when I arrived in village after being in America. And let me tell you, the women were ecstatic. When my 3 mothers were around my hut I decided to open up my room to them as a Victoria Secret dressing room. And they went crazy. Before I knew it I had 15 half-naked ladies, trying on bras, laughing, fighting over the cute ones, and helping each other figure out how to properly wear them. I helped women find the best size after I examined their naked breast, adjusted straps, hooked and removed numerous brassieres. The larger bras they thought were hilarious and they gossiped about whose boobs were big enough to properly fit into them. 

My favorite part of this was how for the next week I had women come up to me and flash me, showing off their new bra and happily exclaiming that it fits them and their back no longer hurts! Or my sister who is so proud of her new cute pink bra with ribbons on it that she flounces around her hut in her bra just to show it off. A day after the battle for bras, one of my favorite old ladies who didn't get a bra came up to me, lifting up her shirt and flapping her deflated boob in my face (that has fed 6 children), thus demonstrating her need for a bra. I did not attempt to stifle my giggles and neither did she.

My new norm

Any guesses on what my favorite part of visiting America was? OK food was pretty awesome but only won second to getting to see so many wonderful people. From seeing Grace in Boston, to all my family in Connecticut and then the amazing reunion I got to have with Marissa, Jessica and Natasha, it was a great reminder of all the supportive, marvelous people I have back home. And the simplicity of being able to go out to dinner, grab a cup of coffee, or take trips to Trader Joes was so refreshing.

But it was almost too easy! If I want to go buy lettuce here I have to leave before 10 am (afterwards its too hot), bike to the market, fight the crowds, argue in Jaxanke over prices and then bike back, making sure the shitty plastic bag I am using does not split open. And this is on a typical,

The magic of Sintra!

good day. On a bad day I get a flat tire on my bike, and have forgotten my water bottle and my cell phone. I am then stranded, dehydrated, pissed and have to walk the 2 km back. Sure makes you appreciate a car with air conditioning!

But, as fed up as I get with how much harder it is to do everything here and how annoying it is to have kids yell 'toubab' at me every second, I missed parts of this simple life! Because everything is so hard to do, I feel accomplished when I do one task a day. Its great! In the US I was running 5-7 errands a day! (I apologize to all of you that are actually working 9 to 5 jobs!)

I claim the tower on the left!

And of course, my time in Portugal was fabulous. I walked all of Lisbon, ate every pastry I could lay my hands on, visited museums, gardens, castles, monasteries and more. The Lisbon area is a magical place that felt like a cross between medieval times, San Francisco and Morocco. The Portuguese were friendly, spoke English and extremely helpful. I met so many other fascinating travelers and wanted to stay for longer than 5 days. I cant wait for my next Euro trip!


Some volunteers say that the transition pre and post-vacation can be the hardest part of Peace Corps, but I found it to be a refreshing experience.
Dont get me wrong, my first few days back in the '1st World' were tough. I went to at least 3 grocery stores and 15 restaurants on my first day in Lisbon, never buying anything just staring, overwhelmed at the options. I constantly wanted to do things like throw trash on the ground, pick my nose, eat with my hand and collect small change. All things that confuse and maybe disgust you all but are totally normal here and have become part of my norm. Even after almost 3 weeks, I would rethink touching things with my left hand or whether I should click my tongue in agreement or use words as affirmation. All of these strange traits are small ways that we as Peace Corps volunteers adapt to the culture we are engrossed in. While it was strange leaving those new pieces of me behind and trying to readjust my new oddities when I am not in Senegal, I found it as a refreshing reminder of how much I do enjoy this country and am comfortable with my new, strange life here.

While standing in customs at the airport, I jumped at the opportunity to attempt at speaking Wolof. I was so happy when I heard a man walk onto the plane and say 'Salum Alaikum' and was thrilled to help 4 Senegalese men fill out their declaration cards while on the airplane. Yes, all 4 Senegalese men who were sitting by me on the plane could not write. They had all been working in various European countries for 2 years and were returning home after a hard journey. So, while I do get frustrated with Senegalese people, with the heat, with the shitty food, I suppose that overall my life here is pretty darn good and has become seemingly normal, at least to me. As everyone says, Peace Corps sticks with you and I am sure that 10 years down the road Ill be just as excited as I am today to see a Senegalese restaurant in NYC or meet a Senegalese taxi driver who I can greet in Wolof.

Did I mention how I ate well? :)

But do not worry, I will be back after 2 years! I miss all of you (and eating ice cream, veggies and chips) too much! So thanks to all of you for making my vacation fabulous and now I am back, ready to work and sweat!

International Day of Women

For those of you who do not know, it was recently the International Day of Women on March 8th. Now if you ask me everyday is womens day, but I guess some people need a reminder. I just learned that my Dad and Stepmom also celebrated the day in Mexico by hosting a special worship service: http://erasingborders.wordpress.com/2013/03/11/international-day-of-women/ . While I am sure that was great and meaningful, I decided to celebrate the day with a little lighter approach.

In the treasure chest of the Tamba regional house, I found an old wig and old skirts that I brought to my village. On the celebrated day I went to the elementary school and explained purpose of the day and its history. After I had the boys talk about women's work and the girls talk about men's work. It quickly became clear who does more work who has the pleasure of sitting around and drinking tea all day.

After some pantomiming of work activities I invited the courageous boys to come in front of the class to put on the wig and skirt. For a class that is accustomed to writing down what is written on the blackboard and being beaten when they speak out of turn, this was an enjoyable activity.

As typical with pictures here, most kids refused to smile, even though they would laugh uncontrollably after!

For the rest of the day I had kids streaming into my room to try on the wig and skirts and have me take pictures of them that I promised to print when I am in the states, exactly 2 weeks from today!!!

Decided to give this baby a go, pretty adorable.

Cant believe I have been here for one year. I have learned so much but have not learned to tolerate the heat! It is back to 110 daily, which is do-able when you have air conditioning to escape to but when your only escape is a hand-held fan the heat can be quite painful! With that said, cant wait for East Coast weather and to see all of you so soon!

I recently had my first visitor here in Senegal, allowing me to explore more of Senegal with a laid-back, fun, adventurous partner. Over 12 days we had a whirl wind of a trip- exploring Dakar, going to my village, Tambacounda, Thies, the Gambia river, Toubacouta (a gorgeous town next to mangrove lagoons) and Lampoul (a picturesque touristy desert spot).

Myself and Anabel (a fellow Berkeley grad who I met when we studied abroad in Ghana together and due to fate we lived next door to each other the following year)

The only downside of the trip was that I feel like I have spent enough time sitting in transportation to last a lifetime. One of the more ridiculous days involved riding on an ‘Alhum’, sept-place, taxi, bush taxi, back of a truck, snowboard and camel. Eight modes of transport in a period of 16 hours- you couldn't pay for that type of adventure in the US!

I think we really only had one low point-when the car that we were jammed in for 4 hours (dehydrated and starving) had cockroaches swarming the floor. Anabel became an expert roach killer while I tried to focus on not getting a concussion from my head hitting the roof of the car. The high point for me is a tie between our pirogue boat journey in Toubacouta where we watched over 100 birds flock home as the sun was setting and our camel ride during which we watched the sunset and the full moon rise over the sand dunes. Not too shabby.

But overall it was a well worthwhile trip (for me and I think for Anabel as well ;). Getting to show off my village to a person who knows me was a special experience. I am so of how much I have learned and changed over the past year! Just watching Anabel struggle to eat rice with her hand while I expertly licked the particles of rice and sauce from my fingers made me realize how far I have come. It is also refreshing to translate for others and remind people in my village how far my language has come- there was once a point when I too could barely spit out 5 words and did not know how to greet! But Anabel within no time Anabel was a pro, she was ecstatic to take on a new name- Oumu- and felt quite connected to her namesake whom we helped pull water at the garden and made lame attempts at pounding grain for her. I wish we could have spent more time in Soucoto as with 4 solid days there she would have had the greetings down, impressing everyone.

I have to admit tho- translating for another person for 2 weeks is exhausting, especially as I was working through speaking Jaxanke, Mandinka, Pulaar, Wolof, French, and English. My proudest moments involved haggling in Dakar making sure she got the lowest prices on souvenirs- and Id say we did pretty darn well.

Got to pet 10 month old lions at a Park Reserve! Pretty cool, their tails and paws especially felt cool!

Being a tourist here was a nice break from my day to day life- which I am eager to jump back into before I leave for my next journey, a trip to the East Coast! 

But cant wait for my next visitors to share my experiences and to explore all that Senegal has to offer! So Bismillah everyone!

Eating to live- Senegalese Village Diet

I just realized I have yet to write a blog on the thing that I think about the most- FOOOOOODD!!! obviously....So I am going to try to give you all a run down on the typical Senegalese village diet and table manners, or should I say dirt manners?

First off I will give you a summary village meals. Lunch is always plain rice with peanut sauce. The sauce is made by boiling water, then adding peanut butter to it. A special stick is used to stir this mixture which makes it boil up and become fluffier. Spices, pounded onion, pepper and occasionally dried fish (gross) or small bits of meat are added for flavor. In general this sauce, mafee, is not bad it is just becomes kinda drab when you eat it every day.

My favorite sauce

There are two dinner options for me. One is a couscous that is made either or millet or corn with a sauce served over it. My favorite is when there is couscous with a leaf sauce that is made by boiling leaves, and then adding spice and ground peanuts (right now squash is also added giving me a real vegtable!). My other dinner option is boiled corn that turns into a kind of mush and then has either a peanut or leafy sauce in the middle. When I first got here I could not stomach any of the mush but now, I have gotten used to it... Never thought I would say that.

For special events cheeb is cooked. This is rice that is cooked with oil and spices. Then a few veggies are fried up to serve on top and if you are lucky, fish is fried and put on top as well. I do not particularly like cheeb as it just means oily rice, no sauce, and in my case only a small bite of fried cassava, but other volunteers eat cheeb everyday for lunch and see a pile of veggies in the center. I only saw that many veggies for Tabaski, the biggest holiday of the year.

Something I find particularly cool is that for the first time in my life I am completely eating seasonally. For instance, I had never seen a squash here until about a month ago when there was a massive harvest in my village and now I get a bite of squash everyday. Squash is usually boiled or fried and is a delicious addition. Before squash it was okra, and before bitter tomato and before that it was... humm I forget!

Plato-y food, when the sauce is good I can handle it!

Much to my mother and grandmother's chagrin, but to my pleasure, I eat with my hands here!! Myself and 8 other women crowd around one bowl for meals, using only our right hand to scoop out rice from the portion of the bowl directly in front of us. To get the sauce you kinda pull some of the sauce from the center to the rice, roll it in your hand for a bit, then those it in your mouth, licking off the remainder of the sauce. If I did not look attractive when eating before I came to this country, there is no WAY I look anything less than hideous now.

Lastly, I want to clarify that what I eat is totally different from Anna, who is a mere 10 km away from me, and is completely different from what someone would eat 70 km away in Tamba. Every village is different and every family is different. I recently discovered that my family's food is especially poor and there are other compounds in my village that eat more fish, meat, veggies etc... Yes, I have been using this knowledge to my advantage and eating food at other homes :)

People love it when I eat at their home. The funny part is that I am always given my own bowl, as I am a special guest, and then brought in a room to eat alone. Either that or a few people will awkwardly watch me eat by myself as they wait for their bowl. I compare this to having a visitor in the states, sitting them in front of the table as the rest of the house goes and watches TV. Weird right? Gotta love culture! 

While I sure do miss American food and find myself dreaming (literally) about salad bars, multigrain bread, Mexican food, asparagas and shrimp...ok i need to stop making this list...I have found that because I often have no choice of what I am eating, I have learned how to eat to live, not live to eat, which is something that us Americans love to do.
With that said, every time I go into Tamba I shove myself with goodies and treats and delicious care packages that you all have provided me. Sooooo I have definitely not made it a rule for myself but it is an interesting thing to think about and man am I excited to not eat rice ever again!!!!!!!

My favorite baby!! Aminata, isnt she adorable! And yes, very dirty :P

Rediscovering my Roots

Best picnic spot

In preparation for the 400 km bike ride over the preceding 6 days, I packed my backpack full of the necessities- one shirt, one tent, one skirt, one book, underwear, soap, and LOTS of snacks. Bits of all of you came with me- padded bike shorts from mom, map from dad, shirt from Deb, art tools from Jill, and goodies that were hungrily consumed from the rest of you. We all appreciated it sooo much and all of you were in my thoughts! 

Chrissie, Alicia and I sleepily departed the Tambacounda regional house on Christmas Eve morning with zero expectations. I desperately needed to get away from my region as I was going a little stir crazy after repeating the same routine for over 2 months. 

Our first clue of crossing over the border into a different country, and a former British colony, was when we saw a ‘Police’ car pass us on the road (instead of Gendarme) followed by children eagerly chasing our bikes and simultaneously shouting ‘Helloooo, How are you’. It was bizarre. I forgot how accustomed I have become to everyone speaking French! Greeting people in English and being able to negotiate prices in my native tongue was a whole different ball game that I never got used to.

Wassu Stone Circles

The other linguistic bonus for me was that the majority of the country is Mandinka, meaning I could finally use my language skills that I have been so diligently working on. This is something I can rarely do in Senegal as most people do not speak a Mande language. I had not expected this but I was getting a vacation away from Senegal. 

Contrary to its obscure geographic proximity (look at a map) and ethnic similarities, the differences did not end with the English language. Because of the size, colonial histories, current presidential situation, and more, the Gambia and Senegal are two very different countries. 

Ferry crossing, the man refused to accept money from us to pay for the ticket

Most of our days we took slowly, leisurely riding past ponds, tropical forests, swarms of birds and the adjacent river. We stopped in villages and asked for water when thirsty, ate next to picturesque landscape when hungry, and napped under the shade of trees when tired (although were often interrupted from these naps by herds of cows, curious children and concerned adults).






In total we biked over 430 kilometers although the time flew by due to the lax pace and good company- we impressively sang all of 100 bottles of beers on the wall, played 21 questions for hours and discussed everything from the validity of obscure cereal flavors to pigmy rituals.

The scenery, company and fresh air were enough to make a perfect trip but what was truly the icing on the cake were the people who we met on the way. While I do not know why, we collectively decided that Gambians are friendlier than Senegalese people, which was a touching reminder of why I returned to Africa for Peace Corps. I was thoroughly impressed by the kindness and generosity of Ghanaians and found Gambians to be just as warm.

After biking 3/4^th of the country we decided to take an extra detour to visit James Island and Juffure, where the writer Alex Haley traced his African roots. Afterwards, he wrote a book titled “Roots” which became an American classic and made James Island a popular tourist attraction.





Visiting the Island was fascinating as there was a crumbling fort that thousands of slaves had been shipped out of and a group of American tourists who made themselves known by rudely shouting ‘can yall stop speaking The Gambian already!’.

But for me, the real adventure was the journey there. We took a horrible road off of the main highway to get down to Juffre which took us longer than expected. As the sun was setting we rolled into a small Wolof village and asked if we could pitch our tents and spend the night in someone’s compound. The prospect of making us sleep outside was appalling and we were quickly ushered to the chief’s home. Upon entering the compound, 65 adults and children alike surrounded us, unable to tear their eyes away. To entertain them we sung a round of ‘jingle bells’ that was an immediate hit and turned into a clapping and dancing fest. Afterwards we were brought to a massive room with a private bathroom that was our lodging for the night. Two families brought us food and were sad to see us go the following day.

James Island

Once in Juffre, we were reminded of the fact that we are white, rich, tourists and were constantly asked to give money for this and that, making me so frustrated that I was ready to leave without spending the night. But once again, our language skills changed the experience. As soon as we turned the conversation into Mandinka or Pulaar our skin color became inconsequential. We were offered a free place to stay, tea, and food that was pushed in our faces until we could no longer politely turn them down and were forced to oblige. 

The river at Georgetown, the previous Gambian captial

Without realizing it, I have become accustomed to people sharing everything with me, going out of their way to help me, and eagerly hanging onto every word that I say. Some days I become irritated by this all encompassing attention and just want to blend in and go places without being badgered by a million questions. Receiving genuine kindness and generosity from Gambians reminded me that this is a truly extraordinary experience and while it may be frustrating, the root of the matter is that people here are truly exceptional. 

Happy Holidays!!

Made latkuhs in village, they were DELICIOUS and so easy! Will have to make them again, does not have to be during Hannukah!

 Missing all of you during the holiday season! Cant believe I have been gone for 9 months! Now that I have been here so long, I have become quite accoustomed to life and forget that there are so many things that have become normal to me, that would seem so bizarre and interesting to you! For instance- school, food, health, funerals, births, work, not work.... the list goes on and on. But alas, those blogs will have to wait til next time!

But here are some pictures I took during my last village stay to make up for my writing laziness. Happy Holidays, eat lots for me and hugs to all!

Gave some to Anna's family. They loved them!!

Nice pile of peanut plants.

My pregnant mother 'tiga suru suring'. Essentially wait for wind and pour the peanuts out while the leaves separate, blowing away.

Post lunch wrestling tournament. I joined in as well. Dont worry, i won.