Hair!!!

The highlight of Korite, or the celebratory day after the month of Ramadan, is the prep. The girls go all out. If their parents have money they buy new outfits, new shoes, makeup, and fancy hair ties. But more likely than not, their parents dont have the funds to purchase those extravagant accessories and so they put all their card on the most important show- hair.
For days before, little girls rush around, getting their hair done by the pros. They fight back tears as the women quickly pull these tiny little braids into masterpieces. The final touch- the burning. They take pieces of cloth and light it on fire, then slightly burn the top of the hair to make it 'tighter'. I failed at trying to convince them that it is just damaging their hair.

 

Some kids buy hair extensions and do fancy dos like this-

Others buy those cheap plastic pieces and tie them on to the ends like Gundo's hair here. This picture is taken of Gundo getting make up done and all the other girls eager watching, fighting over whose turn it is next.

And of course I could not miss out on the fun so while I was buying veggies for my family the lady insisted on doing my hair so I gave in. And she did a good job!

 

Here I am on the day, decked out in my complete with my ladies.

Time is ticking!

I survived! I made it through another hot season. There were days where I could not summon the energy to move off of my floor (bed was too hot, floor is cement and thus a little cooler) between the hours of 2-5 pm. Try living in 115 degree heat without your fancy fans or air conditioned car. Surprisingly, there are a few positives to hot season-

-shower 4 times a day and no one judges

-No one does anything or expects to do anything between the hours of 2-5pm

-excellent detox for my sweat glands

-I wore shorts knee length in my compound and no one cared

-Mangos!!!

-Hippos are back!

-Bragging/bitching rights

-And that its over!!! 

So ya, the rains have come! Hooray! While it is still damn hot, the temp has decreased some and has been replaced with humidity. Some times slightly better.

I have been at my site for over one year and am seeing things happen again, the exact way they rolled out last year. More and more I realize how much I missed last year and how much more I understand now. 

The first rains have come, signaling the men to first rush to the fields. I understand who works on what crops. I know what all of the things people build are for, and why it is necessary to create huts just for peanuts. I am aware that women with older daughters plant more than one plot of peanuts while women without older girls do not. I realize that my father, the old, crazy chief that rarely moves from his chair, still has crops of cotton, corn and peanuts because others plant it for him out of respect.

Aminata has grown so much since I arrived, she now walks and is beginning to talk!

What has affected me the most is how hungry the women are after working in the fields from 8 am til 2pm. Since December, people were not working in the fields and I had forgotten how much food these women could eat. Now that they are back in the fields, their aggression at the field bowl increases. Additionally, Ramadan is around the corner meaning that people are trying to save their money because Ramadan is expensive. Therefore we have run out of rice and are only eating corn couscous. 

With that said, Ramadan is coming as is malaria and with these two events, I have my work put out for me. I have just attended a 10 day

intensive 'Malaria Boot Camp' that is put on by Peace Corps and includes PCVs from all over Africa. During my Boot Camp, there were over 30 volunteers from 16 different countries. I was able to collect lots of ideas and information on projects I will do over the next few months, working on encouraging everyone in my community to sleep under a net. With malaria work, talking to pregnant and breastfeeding women about not fasting during Ramadan, and an internship program that I am starting in Tambacounda, I have a busy few months ahead. Before I know it, I will have 3 months left in Senegal and will be planning my next adventure!

Kid playing on the chief''s brand new moto that he received from the government for being chief... He now uses it to travel 20 meters away from the compound.

Bassari Initiation

Last weekend I had one of those experiences that some of you may think of happens all the time here and is 'typical' Africa. I went to an initiation ceremony for young boys (about 13) into manhood. The older men put on these elaborate costumes that exposed more skin than I had seen in months and the young boys marched around following them in white outfits with a bow draped over their shoulder.

Whistles were blown, flutes were played, food and drinks were passed. This is not the norm in Senegal.

Transport. (and i usually take cars like this to get to village)

To witness this, I headed to Kedougou, the region in the South East corner of Senegal that is home to the Bassari ethnic group, one of the only groups of animist practitioners in Senegal. Every year a group of Peace Corps Volunteers head down to the Bassari country to attend these initiation ceremonies along with a decent number of other white tourists and a large amount of Senegalese tourists- wealthy Dakarians who are interested in witnessing this side of their country.

First off, the Bassari are a tiny ethnic group and within Senegal they only have a strong presence in this one area of this small region. Getting to this village was already an adventure, over 30 of us squished into a car that took us 80 kilometers down a bumpy road, taking about 4 hours. We arrived with changed skin color, layered in dirt and sweat.

Upon arrival, it appeared as if we had pulled into an other random village. Few people were there, everyone was sitting under the shade taking a nap and staying out of the heat. My first thought was, I came all the way for this?!

But once 5 o'clock rolled around men emerged from the woods, making music out of plastic whistles and wooden fluts, all in sync doing a slow two step around the village. The older men were trailed by a large group of young boys who looked nervous, excited, and like they were concentrating much harder at staying with the beat. All the tourists jumped up and began to trail the congo line of dancers, eager to make sure that we did not miss out on anything. Little did we know that this exact procession continued on until 1 in the morning.

In the meantime, everyone else was greeting old friends, eating fancy meals and generously pulling us white people into their social circles to talk with us and share stories. And, unlike the 90% of Senegal that I am accustomed to, they were drinking. We walked around with an empty cup and people generously shared palm wine and honey beer with us, wanting to make sure we had a good time. And let me tell you, they through a darn good party. These people were up ragging past the dancers, who would step out of the line to take some swigs of palm wine before jumping back in. As the night went on, more people danced, more people sang and hooted and hollered. I was in my tent by 11 but could hear people laughing and partying well past 2.

Young boys waiting to become men

The next morning began at 8 with the men re-emerging from the woods, doing the same two-step but wearing more elaborate costumes with masks that covered their faces, as shown in my pictures. Many of these faceless people appeared to be suffering the consequences of the night before but they still held up their end and danced for 2 hours until they led the initiating boys and other men to the woods.

At this time I was pretty pissed to be a girl in Senegal because we are not allowed to witness the actual ceremony where each young 13 year old boy fights one of these 30 year-old masked men. This battle is the final step towards becoming a Bassari man. According to my male friends, only one young boy did throw down his opponent, which led to a scandal as that is not really supposed to occur. The remainder mainly lost badly, and someone rushes off to tell the child's mother that he has become a man and fought bravely.

After this we ate lunch and returned home. Now reflecting on it, the entire 24 hours that we spent were not all that eventful. For most of it there was just a line of men scandalously clad doing the same dance in a line. But due to the stark contrast of this ethnic group and any other village I have been to in Senegal, it was damn cool to see.

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!