Saturday, November 6, 2010

Current And Up to Date

So, it is now November 7, 2010 and it has been a while since I last wrote a blog. I have posted some older blogs to try and catch you up/give you guys an idea of the process I am going through but it has been difficult with all the traveling lack of internet, computer problems, and the fact that I just get lost/have to much fun in my brand new home called Senegal.

As of now, I have been in my village Togue fro about 2.5 weeks. The village itself is about 100 people if you count the children, and I mean barely 100 people. My father is the chief of the village which mainly consists of one family name, Camara. None the less everyone is very happy and very helpful in teaching me pulaar, how to cook, how to get water, and just about anything you can think of because I am their guest and they need to know I am okay and have/can do everything I may need to do. Life is good.

The village itself, sorry if this is repetitive, is about 25-30km south east of Kedougou city in the rural commune of Dimboli. It is a village of Pulaar people who farm corn and some peanuts directly in the village during the rainy season as well as in their fields, about 5km outside of the village. The nearest volunteers are about 12-15km up a mountain and east. Really not that far as it takes me about 30-45 minutes to get to either place on bike due to the mountain and poor road conditions.

Living in village is a whole other world than training as I am completely alone and given total freedom of what I want to do in a day. It is a little overwhelming at first but I am slowly adjusting and finding things to do. For instance, I took a day trip out to Kafori, about 12km east of my village where another volunteer is stationed, to walk to a gorgeous waterfall. (see pictures below). Another day I spent with my father in his field eating corn (yakugol kabba) and then walking roughly 20km more to his rice patties. But for now, as it is the harvest season, I spend most of my days studying Pulaar and talking with the community in the morning and then helping with the harvest in the afternoon. Recently I've actually begun to make a rock pathway to my douche (toilette, which by the way I have definitely mastered).

Other exciting events have been the all night celebration (literally 12pm to 12 am) of the circumcision of about 10 boys. I was astonished to find out that these boys were between the ages of 10-12. No, I didn't actually participate in the cutting process, there was a doctor for that, but yes I ate as much Kosan and laccirri (couscous and sour milk with sugar) as I could stand and then danced it off before gorging myself on dabirri (a crushed peanut, sugar and laccirri mixture that tastes exactly like a peanut butter cookie). Really the food is delicious and the village has no problem attempting to feed me every second of every day.

The majority of the food I eat contains some sort of grain and a sauce. Usually this grain is funio, a sort of grass like crop which is stepped/danced on for its seed then dried in the sun and either cooked whole like rice or pounded and steamed. Either way its amazingly tasty. Other grains we eat often are rice, corn, and sorghum (although I have not eaten this yet as it has not been harvested). Most of the sauce that occompany these grains are okra (Taaku) or peanut based with different variations calling for species, crushing of the peanuts, sugar etc.... These grains and sauce known as nirri e mafe are usually eaten for lunch or dinner. While breakfast is usually mboiddi, a laccirri porridge made with water, sugar, and limes. There is no bread, no meat, and very little vegetables although I have had tomatoes once and bitter tomatoes few times. I hear this will change with the upcoming dry season gardening season approaching.

As for me, I have been on a roller coaster ride of hating, loving, good, bad, mediocre and ever other emotion, feeling, desire, or whatever you want to call them on could experience. However, the average of all these things has been more than positive. I was warned of the difficulties of not being able to directly and easily express myself but in the back of my mind I always thought there would be one person I would find who would understand or have the same humor as I did. I was wrong as of now. One grand example is farting. I, personally, find farting to be hilarious whether it is silent and violent or loud and proud all farts are funny as hell. I had held back my farts in training around my host family because I didn't want to be rude or know how they would react. However, with my host family in Togue I immediately became aware of some noises that I interpreted as farts but as a family would in America these noises were ignored. So, I waited for my time. A time with children and no adults preferably away from the village. This time came on my walk to my fathers farm in which I waited back forcing my little brother to slow down with me and I let out a loud but not deafening fart inorder to study the reaction of my little brother. For a good portion of the walk I had wondered whether he would laugh or be disgusted or fart too but nothing had prepared me for what he actually did. NOTHING! He didn't even break stride. So, I tried again as I has stored up some extra gas via the massive amounts of kabba I ate. Again nothing. My little brother had crushed every hope and dream I had of a simple due to natural gas in Senegal. Still I didn't give up.

I decided to push the limits and give farts one more chance this time with the family and at dinner something only kalabante (trouble maker) in the state would think about doing. So, as my family and I gathered around our food bowl, hands washed and full of funio I let out a little toot. Again not hideously loud but defnitely audible so one would know it was a fart. I looked up to see if anyone noticed, reacted, stopped eating, laughed, something...but again nothing not even the scolding I was prepared to take. The fart, a comedy I hold deep in my heart in America and have used on numerous occasions to lighten a mood, completely fails in Senegal. Well not completely as I can still laugh to myself whenever I fart or someone else does I guess.

Now, I am sitting in Kedougou city as I have to buy a bunch of food for a language conference being hosted at my village. Really it is just a teacher, myslef, and two other volunteers coming out for a few days to learn Pulaar but language conference sounds so much more official. So, I am going to end this long but informative blog entry with a bit of Pullar wisdom that I really like and have been repeating to myself for the past couple of days now:

lekkun bee e dowkal mun. (Every little tree gives its little bit of shade).

Until next time I hope everything well with every one and please and thank you for sending letters, emails, and any other form of communication.

P.S. NEW ADDRESS

PCV C.J. Cintas
BP 37
Kedougou, Senegal
West Africa

1 comment:

  1. dude, solid post. i feel you on a lot of the stuff you were saying. one of my biggest frustrations with living in a foreign land has been the inability to express myself or to find others who share my sense of humor. and with so much time on my hands i really have to stay self-motivated and find ways to be productive and create, learn, read, or write with my down time. otherwise it affects my happiness. but as long as i am doing something i am good. maybe you just need to figure out what your little piece of shade, or contribution, is. you're a smart guy. you will figure it out.

    p.s. sorry the fart jokes didn't pass. maybe let one go and then blame one of the kids. always a classic.

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