Close of Service (COS) Exit Interview question #2 - A story

2)      Peace Corps service is characterized by a lot of ups and downs. What was the most rewarding situation that you experienced to an extent that you felt good about your decision to come and serve here? A situation that made you think that the time that you are spending here is worthy. (You can share a the full story)

a.       I think the ups and downs are both rewarding experiences that one may not realize immediately. They are both ways to learn about yourself and your surroundings. My decision to come to Peace Corps wasn’t to make myself feel good it was to learn a different way of life and begin to understand the diversity in this world.

However, if I were to give one example of a situation that warmed my heart and put a smile on a lot of peoples’ faces was the day I taught my sister to write her name. The event was a small example of life’s challenges and not just in the fact of teaching her to write her name. The event had depth.

We had been playing with my camera and drawing pictures then, taking photos of them. She really likes her photo taken and so, I challenged her. I told her she had to write her name and where she was from before I took her photo again. She groaned but eventually agreed.

Teaching in Senegal is really just copying. Here I made my sister sound out each letter and syllable of her name. I gave her examples of other simple words with similar sounds. When she messed up I simply said, “I don’t think that letter makes that sound.” Not once with all her begging, crying, and moaning did my hand take the chalk from hers.

I don’t know how much time passed. It didn’t matter because we were there with one goal and everyone, including my now present father, silently pushed my sister on. Again, we sounded out the letters making it to her last name. She pronounced each syllable and wrote just a little quicker now until finally she got it….Fatoumata Kamara Togue.

Wow! I was thinking maybe she wouldn’t do it, maybe she would just give up but no. With enough encouragement and the write amount of reward she was willing to struggle. Why should I be shocked? She does it every day. She has a reward: Food, Life. She has a struggle: Daily chores, farming, washing. And so, she struggles sometimes enjoying it and sometimes not.

Then, finally something clicks…….Fatoumata Kamara Togue. Snap….I took her photo as she looked at the chalk board which her name was written. She smiled and took the camera to admire herself and her work. Then, I proposed she write her father’s name next. She reluctantly agreed again for a photo. This time her struggle was less. She remembered the sound of the letters and how to write her last name and the name of her village. Again, I took her photo. 

The things that Sprint through your Head

The future has been a main topic of any conversation with any person. Everyone is curious. From the taxi drivers who only speak wolof (I speak Pulaar) all the way to both sets of my parents. It's fun and exhausting.

Of the things running through my head I have paper work to finish, cups to poop and pee in, rashes to have medicated, and a journey to plan (this one seems to be the most difficult as it literally can lead anywhere). However, there are always those little moments that catch you and put you in the place called HERE and at a time called NOW (a tribute to The Peaceful Warrior if you'd like captain gravity). I'd like to share one of these moments with you guys now because current PC volunteers found it amusing and I need to find out whether or not our humor here still cooperates with the humor there.

And so it goes....... Recently, during the month of Ramadan, I had two couch surfers from Spain contact me about their trip to Senegal and a possibility of coming to Kedougou. They were two girls on their summer vacation and wanting to travel cheaply before returning to school in September. I said why not (Ramadan is a difficult time here because nobody eats or drinks anything) and responded to their email.

Long story short, I was on a trip up north visiting a friend and broke my phone (3rd one in 2 years. Water is all I have to say). Miraculously, we found each other in the transit house in Tambacounda. It was movie like. They said, "We're leaving to Kedougou now," and I said, "Are you Spainsh?"  The rest is really history. We got on a bus and traveled South.

They first went to the common tourist spots (i.e. waterfall and animists) while I made it back to village to make sure it was okay to have guests for the big breaking of the fast, Korite. Of course, it wasn't a problem i was told with a very 'are you stupid?' look. Now the event really begins.

It rained the couple of days we had been apart and well, the river swells when it rains. Every year I have to take a paddle boat to cross the river for a few weeks and this years I had to get two Spainsh girls across the river with me. Sounds easy right?  Now, you need to imagine the contrast in cultures. Spain very comfortable with their bodies, sexual, playful etc.... not Ramadan. Ramadan is abstinence from all sinful things and fasting. Yup, it was a process but like a good volunteer and facilitator of cross cultural exchange I just let it go.

The car was prearranged since I had taken it to get into Kedougou and all I had to do was some grocery shopping and get the girls there by 4p.m. Easy I thought not realizing how hot it would be in the middle of the day and the fact that my perception of far is a lot different than Westerners now. But we managed and walked arriving to the boat crossing at just before 3p.m. Another sigh of relief as we crept by the stares of people who we shocked, surprised, and pleased with the two white grisl who just showed up in short shorts and tank tops (cultural reference: showing your knees is considered sexy in Senegal...during Ramadan a little offensive).

Fatigue had set in and I wanted them to understand the chaos that is crossing the river by boat so, we watched the first boat arrive.  Here is the fun part. Line are non existent and a lot of people are looking to cross with their baggage and sometime motorcycle. The boat. A 12ft aluminum venture boat powered by 4 men and their paddles.The boat is filled with what I will call SHIT (it consists of anything from a motorcyclem bicycles, buckets, chickens, goats and other items being sold or bought from the market) and of course people. The boat, when full, drops in the water probably 2 inches leaving maybe a half inch of space in between the top of the boat and water level. A bit terrifying for the girls.
it
More terrifying is getting on and off the boat. Imagine the lines, anxiety, and chaos that happens at shopping malls during Christmas. People in general just don't give a crap anything beside getting what they want... No one is happy. Now take away the store, replace the plastic bags with bicycles loaded with rice or chickens, solid floor becomes mud, river water, and thorns, and the goal is to get everything you want on the boat. Sounds fun?

The boat arriving meant either sneaking on, which I did with no baggage in the morning, or bullying your way in. I didn't have much o a chance with the Spainsh girls and their baggage. I had to plead with men as they litterally shoved people into the water and mud to get on and off the boat. It what ridiculous as they caught their last glimpse of the Western girls and tightened their grips on their baggage. The Spanish girls and I had no chance and the boat left with out us.

Soon, it came back and this time a plan by the Senegalese was hashed out. Only bikes and luggage would go on the next one. This way more people could go when the boat got back.  It was a good joke and not even April. This time we had to get on as my phone conversation with the car waiting for us was desperation. They wanted to leave I needed them to stay. The boat was again a scene out of Gladiator and I had one option: pull the useless white person card.

I called out to the people in charge, plead my case, and got them to wait for us. However, this just meant more Senegalese got their chance to pile on as we made our way down the bank of the river. Even getting on the boat that was only waiting for us people blocked our entrance on to the boat, refusing to move. I may or may not have shoved an old man out of the way. In the end, we got on then, we got stuck on a submerged fence. 10 minutes passed before we dislodged ourselves a safely made it across the river.

The girls now were wet, still in short shorts, not my wives (common question here) and a bit frantic. We were the last on and last off as the boat was so packed that 5 or 6 people had no where to sit. We ran up the river bank to where the car should be. Yes, the car left us. Quickly I called hoping, they hadn't gone to far. "Hello. Where are you? I am here. I need to take the car"
- "We left. How many are you?" - Car man
- "It's me and two others."
- "Who are you? Three isn't enough."
- "I'm Mamadou. Screw that. Get back here."
Call dies due to lack of reso forcing us to scramble back across the river on the boat we just got off. More stares, more questions. Back on the side we had just left from we find more people want to go across the river but no one can get a hold of the car. "No they aren't my wives. No, I won't offer you one. Here is the number for the car. Call me if they say they'll come back," I tell one younger man moving back to his village after spending some time in the Dakar area.

And so, the short shorts and tank tops and I went home. Then, at dark I receive a phone call....
- "Where the hell are you?" - car man
- "I'm in Kedougou. You left us, remember." - Me
- "We came back. Where are you? Come here quick. Lets go!"
- " Absolutely not. You said, 'wait till tomorrow. Three isn't enough.' So, we're staying here tonight until tomorrow."
- "You've wasted our gas. You owe us. We come back for you and now, you aren't going."
- "Whatever. Your fault, your gas. Have you forgotten hospitality?" - CLICK.

The next day after some raised voices we got on the car and to my village. The rest of the trip was a breeze and all you could do is laugh at the past events.

I

The Future

My time back in village has been one of mixed feelings, rather very emotional. Maybe it’s the malaria medications (joking Pops) but it’s seems to me that I have been way more in my head these days. The reason….I’ve finally decided that I will leave Senegal after my contract is over. What does leaving entail? Holy stink, it’s worse than when I had to pack up and sell all of my stuff, get my wisdom teeth pulled, and move back to Hawaii all in 3 weeks. True story ask my mom. Yet, at the same time the feelings I feel are mainly liberating because I believe I will be a better person in any society. Therefore, I am not afraid like I was about coming to Africa but rather nervous I will get lost in all the different possibilities that the world has to offer. There is farming, volunteering, teaching English, going to grad school, just pain working and then where to live, how long to stay, where to visit, how does rent work again? Utilities? What the hell are honeycombs? So much to think about but for me it isn’t so much frightening as just a little overwhelming because I want to give each opportunity a chance when in reality I probably can’t and therefore, have to make a decision. Who knew deciding what you liked or what you wanted to do or even eat are truly difficult decisions. So, as I try to control my excitement, I’m like a kid on Christmas Eve and I am not even planning on leaving for another 2 or 3 months, I need to finish up some projects that are in the works and do some things I’ve been saying I am going to do for a long time. As many of you know the Reading Room is being built. In fact, it has walls, a roof, and some cement. Hopefully, this Sunday the inside walls will get some concrete and I will be able to begin painting and decorating in order to liberate my mind from the constant thoughts of the outside world. I’m crossing my fingers because Ramadan also started today (Saturday) meaning people won’t be working as much. Another post will have to come once the Reading Room is done but for now I need to share a heart-warming moment for me. I’ve taken to writing down words and thoughts that I like or mean something as of recent. They serve as little reminders to do “good,” breath, relax, and understand that there are things much larger than not sharing my oatmeal and powdered milk with whatever cute little filthy child steps through my door. It came from a younger man who has a one year old boy a beautiful wife and as of recently has become the bread winner for his entire family due to his father’s death. Anyway, we began speaking about the weather and farming over some traditional Senegalese tea. It was typical banter. Then, the conversation turned a little serious and he asked me, “When do you go home?” Honestly, I answered in a few months and he asked, “Why?” Shit. Why am I going home? I answered as best I could, “There are more possibilities for increasing my education there, my family is there, my culture is there, and I want to see the world so that I can better understand people, farming, and our ways of life.” Usually I get the “oh! America is soooo great. Take me with you,” response but Hamadi simply gave me a Pulaar proverb. He said, “Ada memini Aduna e ada findini Aduna.” I couldn’t agree more. His words mean, “You are made to touch the world and you awaken the world.” That moment pretty much brought my Peace Corps experience full circle. I came here to learn, live, and begin to understand a new way of life and then, I came to take those new thoughts mixed with my original thoughts and share them with the people I meet along the way. I’ve never told Hamadi this so I guess I must have done something right with the past two years I’ve spent with him.

Blog June 29, 2012

Tanzania and PDC

My month of June was spent studying Permaculture Design in a place just below the equator but that never got above 80 degrees while I was there.

                Tanzania is home to the great mountain Kilimanjaro, the Maasai people group, great home grown coffee and, most popular, the Serengeti.  White people are in abundance in the more touristy places of Tanzania (i.e. Arusha and Moshi) meaning the local people then thrive on “catching fish” or approaching people on the street to ask if they need a safari, want to climb Kilimanjaro or if they’d be interested in seeing a meditation garden (puff puff pass). However, despite all the local people looking to reel in a big group the atmosphere of Tanzania is still filled with hospitality and a more than willing desire to help with whatever one may need help with.  If you could care less about hospitality or people then, the diverse scenery and breath taking landscapes are more than enough to visit or volunteer in Tanzania.  All in all, Tanzania is a great escape to clear your mind and enjoy the simplicities of life.

                My travel to Tanzania wasn’t really for any of the above mentioned items but instead for something called Permaculture Design.

                Permaculture is a compound word and sort of misrepresented. The term was created in the 60s by a man named Bill Mollison from the words Permanent and Agriculture. The idea Mr. Mollison had was to create food systems that are resilient and mimicked the way the natural environment provides for the human world, animal world and itself. His idea caught on and has been followed and researched for the past 50 years and is now be implementing all over the world in aid projects, at Universities, and most interesting for me is in the cities most of you reading this are now living in. Maybe the best thing about Permaculture is that its’s ethics and principles are based on simple things everyone can agree with: People Care, Earth Care, and Fair Share.

                 I won’t bore you with the details of the course or about the ethics and principles of permaculture but instead give you an idea of how it has solidified in my mind what I want to pursue in my life, planning/design.

                Before I left for the Peace Corps I had some small internships with organizations dealing in the planning of cities. During these internships I realized how little people actually know about their place as a whole. I mean complete whole from zoning, to land use history, and all the way to the migratory species and their seasons. Planning and Permaculture make these things necessities to know and understand. The internships I held forced me to look into a place’s history and really begin to see how that area’s policies became what they are today. Unfortunately, policies and words are the way traditional planning systems have been shaping the cities we know today.  Vision however, is how most people receive and begin to comprehend 90% of the information given to them (Don’t quote me if I remember I will look it up on the internet or maybe you should just try to do your normal routine with your eyes closed).

                Permaculture and some progressive designing codes are now moving towards a more visual representation of their proposed urban or regional plans. Personally I am all for it because the plans that will be produced are the best of policy and imagery. One who doesn’t want to read or get bogged down in policy can still have a great understanding of the codes guidelines just by looking at the proposed design where as the people who love policy can still have their regulation but now with a proposed idea of what the city should look like if said policy works. Permaculture design looks to combine classical knowledge (i.e. the science, facts, data that America is soo dependent on) with the romantic knowledge (i.e. arts, music, imagery the “cool” kids or hipsters usually have a grasp on) to produce a product that satisfies all the senses. That’s what I want to do. I want to satisfy all the senses and work with a system that is taking into account all of the surrounding outputs, inputs while still being productive. My only glitch is how I go about accomplishing this goal in the near future. Do I stay in Senegal for a third year? or Do I go off into the world, travel, work and volunteer for interesting people while living in the "real world"? I can't get past this question but need to make a decision by the end of the month for my sanity's sake. Wish me luck and stay tuned.  

An Amazing Feeling

Today before taking my weekly ride into Kedougou to do the radio show and other random things an amazing occurrence happened. I really should have taken a picture but I was just too damn excited and it was getting dark.

What I saw wasn't an animal or an amazing feat of strength/balance like the women who stack things on their heads. It was much simpler. It was people, the people of my village, all gathered in one place to learn how to read and write their local language from one of their own. They were studying, together, and supporting each other. My idea isn't crazy it can happen.

Most of the people there were women as the women's group's successful garden inspired a NGO to bring materials for them to study reading and writing. However, their children also has to come since mom went meaning they also get an education and all from a local guy who lives in the village and went through a previous NGO's training. Maybe the event was more beautiful because it was Aid work actually working and in a sustainable way.

I had to share this because as you, my followers, know I am building a Reading Room. This class now, which takes place under a make shift shade structure will move to the Reading Room once it is complete. I can't think of a better way to break the room in. People are actually excited about reading and following through. Man! I really hope this keeps up.

Wish me luck.

When you’ve only got one things to utilize why wouldn’t you utilize it? Over the past year and a half I have been attempting to “help” people by sharing ideas, demonstrating techniques, and adapting to a foreign culture. I have had some successes in setting up gardens, becoming proficient in a language and sparking interest in ideas that could improve people’s day to day lives. However, my most profound finding is that no matter how hard you plan, no matter how many times something gets discussed, and no matter how much someone says they want something that thing will never happen unless they take the initiative and do it themselves. I believe it was Ghandi that said something along the lines of, a great leader’s work is plentiful and hard for his people but when the work is all done it is the leader’s people who claim the work to be their own. I could find the actual quote online but the internet is slow and well I need to prove to myself that my reading comprehension is at the least still there. As many of you know, I have begun to build a “reading room” for my village to have the necessary materials to continue their education after the school year has ended or gone on break. I solicited moneys from you guys and drew up an agreement for my village that once the allotted monetary amount was met the village would commence building. My project timeline for the construction of this 4x4 meter room was a month start to finish. I thought the biggest hang up in the construct process would be my lack of resources in bringing out cement and other materials for completion of the room. To say it bluntly I am probably the hardest worker pushing to complete the room now. The project has been funded for over a month now and the village has only gotten the foundation done. The hang ups range from them having to do other work, worries of someone moving in after I leave and just plain laziness. I’ve become a broken record in asking, “Do you guys actually want this? Why aren’t you just doing it? All you have is your energy! Use it to make something you can eat, sell or develop!” The words only get a smile as they give me some extra because they think the extra food will cheer me up. However, with a bit of patience and the will to continue things usually work out in Senegal. Only having labor to give is sort of a double edge sword in which it truly is your choice on when and how you are going to complete something. For now, I share the beginnings of the Togue Reading Room before the foundation was built.

Funeral for a Friend

I now sit in a legendary hammock waiting for two exchange students from america to arrive and, if God agrees, to take a small vacation to my site. We call this cultural exchange. This time has allowed me to throughly reflect on past event that took place and is reoccuring every hour if not minute through out the world. Some say it's too much and others too little. What ever you think that fact is death is a necessity of life.

For some unknown spiritual, scientific, or galatical reason there have been a lot of deaths over the past 3 days. The first of which I would like to talk about because it happened to a man who I know a little bit but mostly because I got to attend his funeral. Maybe the only ceremony/meeting Senegalese people go to and don't expect to be fed. Fortunately there is a religious offering for the deceased a few days later and everyone who came to the funeral is invitted to eat until they can't eat no more.

I'd like to be a bit more serious though because the funeral I attended was rushed but perfect. Senegal doesn't have a morgue or 700 different chemicals to pump into a body in order to delay its natural decomposing processes. Instead, Senegal with the aid of cell phones must call the area, family, friends to come quick and help dig a grave.

Truth, I got to watch how they dug the grave. It's a square room with a shelf roughly 20cm from the top that will be sealed with wood once the body is palced in the newly dug dirt. The cemetery, if you will, is down by the river and riddled with old mounds of dirt where bodies still or used to lie. Now, trees and shrugs grow over the graves allowing animals and humans to walk or graze on them as they please. Trust me, my viewing point for the ceremony was on top of an old grave.

Anyway, the digging is done by the river in a freshly cleared space. There are no machines. Only the tools one uses to live and farm the land with are welcome. I never would have guessed a pick, garden hoe, shovel, and machete could create such precision when diggin a hole. Everyone took responsibility for the constrution of the room. No one was allowed to get too tired and no one refrianed from making a contribution. The digging process was really beautiful as it was the perfect example of how all people are the same. Death comes along and we are able to put our emotional energy to a cause (I'm saying digging a hole is better than retaliating against whoever you felt was responsible).

Even those who didn't dig brought a fresh batch of leaves, instead of flowers, (there are three different types used for funerals) to be put on top of the body and sealed in with it. When the body arrived with it's caravan of chanting religious leaders, family, friends, and spectators (no women) it was dressed in all white cloth and quickly lowered in to it's new resting place. Leaves were then used to fill the rest of the hole and closed in once the hole was full. More leaves were added ontop of the pieces of wood used to close the new room and finally the dirt was added and we prayed. They gave a short and sweet prayer filled with please for God to accept his sould in to heaven.

The ceremony ended with everyone greeting eachother and telling eachother to be patient. I didn't notice it at first but no one had greeted anyone upon arrival. All arrvived and went stright to work. The final clod of dirt provided the closure they needed. The body, leaves, wood, and dirt now belonged to the earth and his soul was God's.

The men quickly left for the mosque to give one final prayer all together for the sould of the newly deceased once the room was completely closed. We, the men, then went to greet the women and ask them to be patient and after that it was over. The man's wife will mourn for 40 days. She won't leave the fence, she won't cook, wash, or lieave the house at night. Women and families then flock to stay with her and aid her during mourning. After that she will be cared and care for the family of the deceased.

In my personal opinion (sorry), I thought the procession was perfect. Everything came full circle even though the room was a rectangle. He came from the earth's nutrients and went back to the earth's nutrients by being buried by the people who daily use and need the earth's nutrients to survive.

Mali, Segou, Dogon.

I recently embarked on a Eastern bound journey toward the land known as Mali. The time was right, as elections in Senegal were around the corner, and the company was ever better. Really, these two ingredients made for a glorious journey.

Marcy, Brian, Toby, Jen, Meghan, and I embarked on our journey the afternoon I received confirmation that my reading room project had been fully funded (thanks to you for donating). Leaving was the most difficult part of the journey but we did and watched the lovely sun set as we crossed into Mali. From here the travel to Bamako was easy as Mali seems to have transportation figured out.

Malian transportation consists of bus systems rather than cars. These buses have set stations, prices, regular departure times, and sometimes even serve snacks. Now, you have a better understanding of why this trip was so glorious. This bus system allowed for us to wander around until our hearts were content then pack up go to the bus station and leave for our next destination. In fact our first night in Mali was spent sleeping in a bus at one of these stations. Well some of us slept others choose to experience the night life before getting on the 5 am bus.

We stayed in Bamako for a few nights and met a few amazing PCVs from Ghana and of course Mali. All of which were traveling to the Segou Music festival, the main reason we came. Bamako again seemed more organized than say Dakar. There were trash cans, public soccer fields with grass, vietnamese street vendors etc... However, it definitely was nt as developed. None the less I throughly enjoyed experiencing Bamako's rich culture and tastey street food delights before again getting on a bus for Segou.

We had incredible luck in getting the last 6 seats on the bus and in sitting next to the people we did. On the bus we found three wonderful individuals, 2 from Brazil and one from France. All traveling to the festival. On the 6 hour bus we shared stories, music, laughed, ate and were merry. Our bus got a flat an hour outside of Segou so, we just turned up my radio danced (tried) the Brazilian Samba before a local Toureg man graced us with his 3 string home made guitar. We were now 9 and had no place to sleep once in Segou. Most would panick, I danced.

The first night in Segou we splurged and stayed in a nice hotel but arguably the next few days were even better sharing a room with 12 beds and 9 people on a boat outside of the main stage. Using ou rboat as a jump off point we throughly enojyed the festival and it's numerous artists. I didn't feel as pushed or pressured to buy things at the festival eventhough that was obviously the main goal of almost every Malian there. Instead, I enjoyed the music, made the sellers tea before hearing their pitch, and jumped in the river.

The festival itself was riddled with incredible artist from Pape Diouf to Salif Keita and new up and commers Sauti Sol from Kenya. Music didn't start till late afternoon and ended at 2 am. Needless to say we were a bit worn out as we headed into or 4 day Dogon adventure and gues what we were now 10 as the Ghana volunteer we met in Bamako decided to join us.

Dogon is famous for being the area in which people fled the Fulfulde people and tried to live in peace instead of converting to Islam. Dogon is a very beautiful, rocky, and spiritual place. Led by our guide Hasani, a.k.a "Big Boss Man" (he is easily 6'4 and 250 but very agile), we explored the ins and outs of 8 different Dogon villages. We learned about the perfect number 7, 60 year mask festival, and dipped into a little bit of Dogon life. Our hike ended on a cliff watching the sunset, flying paper airplanes and wasing the aches away with some cold beer. Really recommened doing this if you plan on comming to Mali.

Unforunately, this cliff was the beginning of the end of our special group of 10. The next morning we left our 2 Brazilians on the cliff and set out for Hassani's house. At the house we split again leaving the Frenchman and Ghana volunteer to go there own way. We became again the original 6 on a long journey back to Senegal.

The whole journey home took a little over a day as we only waited for the next bus to leave. Back in Kedougou we remembered our friends and Mali with a slide show of all 600+ photos we took. Then the elections passed and everyone went home. Really it was that simple and that glorious. You should see for yourself.

Disease

My Peace Corps service has had its fair share of diseases. Skin disease, viruses, infections, diarrhea but no vomiting. I have never really been sicker for more than a month and certainly cannot claim my self to be among the sickest volunteers in country. I have a few friends who belong to that group though. So, with out further distraction here are a list of some of the diseases I have attracted while being here in Senegal.

Giardia lamblia (synonymous with Giardia intestinalis, Lamblia intestinalis and Giardia duodenalis) is a flagellated protozoan parasite that colonizes and reproduces in the small intestine, causing giardiasis. Thanks wikipedia.
Giardia is a common intenstinal parasite volunteers recieve from coming in to contact with drinking water or food that has been contaminated with fecal matter. In my case, I think I got it from drinking unfiltered river water. And so the story goes.
I arrived in 2010 right at the beginning of the harvest season and therefore, had a lot to go see in a short amount of time. My father one day decided it was time for me to see the rice fields. We set off at around 10 am and began our walk to the fields (5km). I thought, “well if we are walking, my dads about 70, and we didn'tget an early start then, the rice fields musn't be that far. My father and I ended up resting for about an hour at the fields, ate lunch, rested again for an hour then decided we better get going during the hotest part of the day.
Not to brag but I am fairly fit and didn't have a problem with the way things we going I just wished I had brought more water. An hour and a half after leaving the normal fields, crosing two rivers, and greetig the Basari people (Animist) my father and I had arrived at the rice fields and I was out of water. Along the way we had cut down some palm frawns in which I later found out were used to create a perimeter around the field in order to deter birds from eating the ripe rice. Our work took us to sunset.
As we set off for home my father washed nd got a drink from the river. He took my bottle and filled it for me from the river. Thinking very little about diseases I drank the cool, crisp, clear water and it quenched my thirst. Later that night I thought about how I may have put myself in compromise but I didn't pay for it for another week.
Giardia started with a full day of non-stop diarrea in which I couldn't leave my hut because of the bowel movements and cramping my stomach. The next few days it got a bit better and I biked in to Kedougou for a meeting. During the meeting is when the sulfur farts and burps began. The cramping and bloating also incerased making me feel as if I had to constantly poop. When I could poop it was yellow, mucusy, and smelly. I knew I had giardia with these threee symptoms of sulfur burps, sulfur farts, and yellow mucusy poop.
The remedy began with calling med and explaining my situation. They immediately recognized my symptoms and put me on a 3 day medication that cleared me up good. Since my battle with giardia I haven't had any real intestinal problems. I know carry a small bottle of bleach around to purify my water. 2-3small drops in to the river water and it becomes potable water in 45-60 minutes time.

Dermatophytosis or ringworm is a clinical condition caused by fungal infection of the skin in humans, pets such as cats, and domesticated animals such as sheep and cattle. Thank you again wikipedia.
My first time with such a fungal infection came in my first month being in Senegal. It was the tail end of the rainy season which means that Thies and Dakar become mass sewers for all kinds of fun bacteria and fungai. I was in my trainging village when I noticed my foot and and were very itchy and had a raised line underneath my skin. I didn't think much of for the first few days hoping it would just go away. It didn't and by day 5 the worm looking bump had now double in size to about an inch long.
This now begame semi-concerning because I didn't know what it was, why it was growing and whether or not I should call med. I didn't want to start off by sounding like a cry baby my first month into country. After a brief consultation with my language teacher I called the doctor. She reassured me that it was minor and very common for volunteers to recieve these fungal infections during the wet season. She perscribed another medication to be taken over 3 days which took care of the problem immediately.
My next confrontation with fungal skin infections wasn't so minor but did come in the wet season again almost a year after my first. This time the fungus was on my crotch, peck, arm, and shoulder and again I didn't really think much of it. I did start my own treatment of fungal cream which is taught to us by Peace Corps. I didn't hawever think the bit on my crotch was fungal i thought it was a rash from biking.
The fungus spread like a bat out of hell. With in a week I had a softball diametere red ring aronud my private part and it hard spread to both arms and multiple spots on my stomach. At this current time I was at the beach having some quality relaxation time and didn't want to ruin it. I tried washing multiple times a day, giving them direct sunlight, baby powder, and cream to stop the spreading. They sort of worked but I needed something more as the wet season wasn't even close to over.
Timing couldn't have been better, if it can ever be good to get an infection, because I had scheduled mymidservice medical check up later that week. Continuing my own treatment I waited for my appointment to consult the doctor. I wish i could have recorded his reaction when I asked him to look at my crotch and he saw just how bad it was. He went, “whoa!” and gave a sort of dsigusted bitter beer face. Not taking more than 15 seconds to assess my new friend he immediately gave me a perscription to take over 6 weeks for the numerous infections on my body including the beginning of staph under my armpit. Thank goodness the meds worked again and I have been jock itch free ever since.
Those are really the only shocking illnesses I have had. Others included bad colds and high fevers which get coupled along with the vibrant dreams caused by my malaria pills. I know of numerous other people who contract much more serious diseases such as meningitis, ecoli, and malaria. I've been fortunate and the medical staff has been more the willing to deal with any problem I bring to them. Including self induced illness. The worst of which and last of my stories is my stitches.
Coming back into my hut I began changing clothes and watering plants inorder to get off wuickly nd play soccer. I was on my way out my front door to water a citrus tree when my left foot caught the corner of my sheet metal door. The metal had risen off the wood frame just enough to slice my foot a good 2 inches in length and down to the bone.
After cursing for a while I opened my medical kit and began cleaning and badaging the wound. My brother came in to call me for soccer. Showing him my bone he began to pray and I told him I had to call Peace Corps. Peace Corps tld me to get on the earliest car I could to Dakar and start taking antibiotics. I followed orders to a T and got my self to Dakar with in a day. Med staff were waiting for me and immediately took me for x-rays and to get stitched up. The whole things from initial cut to stitching took less than 24 hours. It was amazing.
Again I can't stress how lucky I am and how happy I have been with Peace Corps Med staff.

Police

I'll try to keep this one short and sweet as I just dropped off my family at the Dakar airport and it's almost midnight. It was a beautiful two week holliday with the fam but, I think they'll agree, I need some rest.

So, here we go...... As you all know by now Africa is riddle with Aid, help, gifts, donations ,etc...etc..... Call it what you want. Senegal is no different in that 70% of the country's budget comes from foriegn aid. Yup thanks guys. Anyway, the story continues on a Saturday after I have finished one of my many radio shows. Ben, the volunteer living on top of the mountain Ilive next to, and I found out Mrs. Wade (President Wade's wife) was giving a speech on her relatively new campaign to eliminate HIV by some date. The goal is a bit ambitious but aren't all politicians.

While waiting for Mrs. Wade to arrive Ben and I got the bright idea to begin interviewing local agencies about what HIV is, how one gets it, how one can prevent it, and the contact information about the organizations trying to help spread the word about HIV. The day was goin well and Ben and I were on our way to collecting alot of good information to be broadcast on our next Peace Corps' radio emission.

Feeling happy with what we'd collected Ben and I assumed the positions and waited for Mrs. Wade. While waiting a small argument between a civilian and gendarme (Senegalese Police officer) broke out at the gate nearest us. The arguers were to far away for us to hear so we just shrugged it off and continued to wait. But the argument didn't stop and eventually some other people got involve, including one of the men we had interviewed.

I thought to myself, "that's strnage. Why would someone affiliated with a supporting organization be arguing with a police officer?" I let it go as the civilian was eventually let in and resumed his seat maybe two feet from Ben and I. Seconds later the police officer came back and leveled the civilian with one sift blow to the head. Fortunately it wasn't too lethal of a blow and the civilian quickly took defense. It was a good thing to because not only was the police officer he argued with beating him but two of his Army buddies ran in to get their few swift kicks in while he was on the ground. Ben and I wuickly backed away feeling absolutely useless as friends of the civilian and authorities began to brawl directly in front of us. It was incredible to see such violence break out with little to no ignition.

Maybe Ben and I should've taken a hint and left when this fight finally got resolved and the civilian was forced to leave the gathering while the police officer was permitted to stay and stand gaurd. The event carried on as if nothing happened. Until Mrs. Wade and her posse began showing up. People began pouring in and with it some were disallowed access to certain areas. One man didn't like this and began challenging authority. A small scuffle quickly began but resolved with nothing to brag about. Then, another man from the same crew began to challenge authority again. Mind you this is crew is supportive of Wade. This time the scuffle got a little out of hand adn roughly half the audience got involved. Fortunately, for Ben and I the choas swiftly moved to the streets and out of the fenced area we were standing in.

By this time Ben and I are a bit worried. Three fights at fairly close proximity and all being between the police and civilians. The events was beginning to drag on and we felt our safety was becoming increasingly at risk. We decided to leave as we had collected a lot of good material, we were hungry and there was cold chocolate milk near by. Our timing couldn't have been better. As we exited the gated area we passed a truck filled with police wearing riot gear and loading tear gas into their guns. Unbeknownst to us a small uprising had begun as we were leaving. We quickened our pace until we reached our friend Darrel's shop then, watched as things got a bit heated in the event we had just left.

Once things cooled down, Ben and I began our journey back to the Kedougou house. While walking to get our bikes I over heard some women talking about how disappointed they were with the event. They said it was broken by the war, that people weren't listening and the point was missed. They decided to leave because war cannot reside with peace and peace was what the event was supposed to be in. I couldn't agreee more and the actions of the police as well as the people opened my eyes to just how fast things, even simple ones like a talk about AIDs, can erupt into violence.

I'm not going to say this day's events are going to keep me from going to othe events but it has definitely prepared me for what can and may happen. In the end Ben and I put on a very informative radio show making me think that even with the fights that broke out at the event it still brought about more good than bad.

crime and Punishment

After a brief moment of contemplation, li hing mui (thanks mom) and socks for the feetzies (it's cold) I can now successfully try to entertain my readers with a not so happy story.

As many of you have no clue about I was robbed a few months ago while on a 3 day hiking trip. Yes, the trip was epic and yes I could see three countries from where I was standing but the return to my hut was not so epic. I was with my fellow volunteer, Ben, who stayed at my hut the night before our departure. As I entered the hut I immediately knew something was wrong.

My immediate instinct was to check for Ben's computer, he had left it in my hut not wanting to trek with it. I handed him the computer and told him to check to make sure everything was still there. Turning to the back door I discovered where the culprit had entered. I generally use a string to lock the back door of my hut. I thad worked for the year or so I'd been in village why would it fail now. That day I discovered it cut and I was able to freely open the back door.

I went into a rush. Ben told me everything was in his computer as I broke the news that my hut had been broken into. I went through all of my belongings which I now began to notice how out of place they were. Knic-knacks were strewn across my table, clothes on the floor, and buckets moved. I keep my hut fairly orderly to unsure minimal pest damage and cleanliness for visitors, it's not very big you know.

Anyway, I found that the money I had brought out to throw a party had been stolen (40,000 cfa), Ipod gone (neve realized how much I missed it till it was gone), voice recorder, solar charger, batteries, and 3 bars of soap. I screamed for my father to come over, not the best decision as unbeknownst to me the perp was still in village. My Dad, the village chief, came to my hut and I explained to him in very angry Pulaar what had happened. Then, my brother came over to tell me how sad he felt. I felt a little helpless but at the sametime at ease with what had been taken as it was mostly trivial things which could, if wanted, be replaced. My rage stemmed from the invasion of privacy and broken trust that had resulted from the theft.

A meeting was called and immediately my voice recorder emerged. I played for my Father and Uncle's present the recording I had done with my Father about compost 4 months earlier. How they didn't already know it was mine I don't know. They now believed me and told me Boubacar Diallo, a boy from Guinea who had been helping to farm some fields and staying in the village for roughly a month, had it and was taping people talking randomly in the village. Attempting to hatch out a plan in secrecy, something nearly impossible here especially when white person is involved, they set out to catch Boubacar.

Fail. Boubacar whether he heard me yell, my father call the meeting, or got suspicious when my brother took the voice recorder I don't know but he fled behind the fence into the bush with an excuse to poo. I hoped he pooed his pants. Ha!

Anyway, the chase began and my village was dedicated to catching him in a very non-chalant way. My Uncle who had house the boy took personal responsibility to the next morning at dawn ride 30 km to Kedougou to place a reoport than back 60 km into Guinea to place a report with all the villages on the border and the police. I saw him later that same day and bought him some cookies. Unfortunately, I felt all his hard work was a bit futile.

Morning came the next day and left. The afternoon brought some excitement as an old man said he saw him headin gotward Kedougou. The border patrol along with the forestry, because only the forestry has a motorcycle, left on pursuit. Nothing turned up and I went home a little bummed but my father had hope. He had called a Fatia, or done a religou offering with all the religous leaders and elders of the area to inform their people about the thief and to pray he gets caught or dies. Intense I know it gets better.

A few weeks pass and I am in Kedougou for a radio show. I'm packing to go back to village when I get a call from a number I don't know. I answer, "Alo?" -"Mamdou? It's me Malal. We caught Boubacar." Me - "What!? You caught him? Where? How?" Malal - " Come see. Come now. Tell your uncle in the market."

I left immediately to the police where nothing happened because the theft didn't occur in Kedougou. I asked them to tell the police in my area to bring the thief to kedougou (thinking of course that it was their job. I told them about it). Nothin happened because the police in my area don't have a car or motorcycle. So. I left ot village.

Arriving at around sunset I fonud Boubacar sitting with my grinning father. I asked what would happen. They told me to wait until my uncle came back so, I went to bathe. Boubacar wasn't tied up and didn't look hurt but he looked tired, sad, and a little remorseful. As I showered I thought about how he was just a kid who saw an opportunity to have something he may only be able to dream of (I don't mean this offensively. Look into Guinea's status). I began to forgive the boy not in a religous sense but in a okay he did wrong he needs to pay but not necessarily by going to jail.

My uncle arrived and the meeting commenced, if you could call it a meeting. It consisted of humiliating Boubacar, telling him how shameful his actions were, and asking me to talk to him and him to talk to me. I wasn't having it and just wanted things to be decided and over. Unforunately, due to the time and Tebaski (a major Islam holliday) taking Boubacar to jail was out of the question for the next few days atleast, until Tebaski passed (2 days away).

Their first choice Tie him up to a tree or post until the holliday passed then take him to jail. He'd eat, he'd sleep, he just wouldn't be able to go any where. I wasn't a fan givent he immediate ridicule allready givent o the boy i could only immagine what would happen if he were tied up. Next and final option, Saria. Saria in Pulaar literally mean law and until today I didn't know what that meant. So, after some discussion with my advisor and my father and i agreed that this Saria would be the quickest and most acceptable puishment that would make everyone in the village feel like justice was brought.

Saria began at midnight with the showing of all the clothes Boubacar had bought with the stolen money. He then removed the stolen clothes he was wearing, in front of everyone, and put on the slothes he wore when he arrived. He was asked what would happen to him if he were caught stealing in Guinea. He said, "they ask you whether you like your foot or hand better?" My father now weilding a machete than asked, "well which do you prefer? Bring it forward?" Boubacar chose his left hand and my father raised the machete high and borught it down swiftly. Laughter erupted as my father stopped his swing just short of Boubacar's hand. The verbal abuse continued.

Until, one of my uncle's grew tired and called for the children to get sticks. Excited the children each brought a stick. A discussion broke out whether to tie Boubacar up. Thankfully, the decision was no. My unlce than, like something out of a movie, order the boy to sit on a map. He grabbed a the first stick and began beating Boubacar until it broke. Boubacar began crying and screaming with pain. The first stick broke and a second was taken swiftly. These step were repeated until Boubacar leapt with a yelp and began pleading for it to stop. He was ordered again to lay down on the mat. Compling Boubacar suffered again until the fourth stick broke and while the fifth came down on him he leapt again and plead for it to stop. They didn't so he bolted for the door. He ran through the village as the villagers followed for fear he might steal their bikes. Apparently beating and ridiculing is Saria.

I was astonished and intrigued. The people of my village thought nothing of it. They even joked and laughed at how he yelled in pain and congratulated my uncle on a good beating. The whole next day I heard how well my uncle did and how Boubacar cried. I also slept with my bike in the security of my locked hut and woke the next morning to do laundry.

Still shocked I didn't leave the village until the afternoon the next day. I was gone for maybe 3 hours and came back to find my back yard a bit of a mess. I thought, “Damn cat” and continued on my way to bathe. Then the greeting of, “Hey Boubacar is by the forage. Did you see him?” I replied no I hadn't and that you're not funny. Then, I began to think and opened my eyes. My back yard was a mess and there was an interesting space in the clothes I left to dry in the sun. That little SOB came back and tried to break into my hut again. Finding it was locked he took my shirt instead. I'm not going to lie I was scared and slept the next few night with my doors locked for fear of what he may try at night.

Boubacar showed his face in and around the area for the next 3 days before finally being spotted heading towards Kedougou. I haven't heard anything since but everyone is on the look out. I now lock my doors when ever I leave, sucks, but I do. I learned my village really does care for me and will go through a lot to make things right. I also learned that I should've shared the things I hid from my village (Ipod) because then they would've known it was mine and things wouldn't have gone so far. In the end, we have moved on and learned. Boubacar is no longer welcome in any part of my community and I know people are looking out after me.

Animals

Senegal has a variety of animals living in the wild that (I could be wrong) one cannot see in the wild in America. Things such as lions ("ohhh!"),Snakes ("ewww"), lizards, and yes the cute and cuddly hippopotomaus. Not to brag but I have seen a few of these little critters while attending to the daily business.

Baby hippo - Early in my service our entire region (Senegal is broken in 14 I belieev) went on a retreat in order to discuss desired projects, a visons for the year, and possible improvements. This pas tyear it was held at a Campement roughly 40km North of the Goo. The trip was pretty standard some alcohol, arranging for one of the worker's wifes to cook for us instead of the regular white people chef they have on tap, and the daily out door frolicing near the river.

I was fortunate enough to be blessed with a thought full, creative, and fish loving father who decided to send me a fishing pole. Sorry Pop, it's been used once but it does play a key role in this story.

A now retired volunteer and I decided, knowing the the campement is on the Gambia river, to bring the pole along just in case. After a long day of meetings and discussions we decided to get a few casts in before the sun fully set. Per usual we stayed out casting away, really just messing around, until dusk. Now, as many of you dwellers of the developed world may have forgotten but with no cars, generators, tvs, radios, or noise making devices the world is a fairly quite place and atleast in my perspective the darkness brings about with it a new level of silence. My friend and I were slowly approaching this silenece when it was abruptly broken with sound of water breaking. (You know the sound that you heard when you submerge a bottle under water and it pops back up or when your ears exit the water and are ambushed by the freedom of air).

Anyway, immediately we looked to the river and found a cute little Baby hippo (real life size probably about the size of a small car) and its mother. They came for down river and were sitting behind a little rock sehlf in the middle of the river avoiding the current. The baby was attempting to climb the rock. A few seconds later we began to notice the shines of not jus the two hippos but roughyl 3 others also resting in the shelter provide by the rocks from the stream current. My initial though, like any, was this is awesome, how can I get closer? We quickly scuried down the river bank to a clearing that put us directly in line with them and at roughly 50 yards away.

As we sit and watch these beautiful creatures the sun grows tired and decides to go to bed. We stand mesmerized staring now only at the contrast of shinynes between the hippos and water. No we don't have a flashlight. Why would we? CRACK, RUSSLE, SPLASH! We freak out now in an instant realizing hippos are very territorial, especially around their young and in the dark and they can easily out run us on land. We take off running/fast walking up the bank, down the trail and back to camp.

We laugh as we arrive, out of breath, and only able to ask, "Did you see it? Was it a hippo? Shit!" The crash was big (hence, the capitals), the russle equally as big and the splash well you can imagine. Waht caused it? I don't know but that Baby Hippo sure was cute.

For more info on hippos - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hippopotamus

Reptiles - There aer many reptiles in Senegal most of which youreally don't want anything to do with. I've seen them in the back of my hut and be headed (the common death penalty of a found snake after being beaten with a stick) on the side of the road. The other common reptile of interest that I've seen commonly are monitor lizards. They usually scare the crap out of you by plopping out of a tree, scurrying through the bushes, or swimming across a river. These actions are also true for most snakes.
My most recent enconter with one of these lizards was down at a farmer's field. His 10 year old son pointed the lizard out to me. It was sitting high up in a tree and appeared to me to be pretty tires, maybe a little hungry but definitely thirsty. The boy and by this time his mother, little brothers and father all agreed with me as we stared up at this lizard willing it to move.
The boy had other plans. No sooner than I pulled out my camera to take photos the boy was hurling rocks at the lizard to get it to come down. His little brother, age 2, scurried to his mother and somehow never took his eyes off the lizard. The rock throwing continued for about 15 minutes, none ever hit the lizard, until finally the boy's mother decided it was time for them to get back to picking peanuts.
The lizard seemed unperturbed but as we began to leave it turned around and started down the tree a little. I left for another field but was greeted later that night by an estatic little boy claiming he had hit the lizard with a rock, causing it to come down and run away. This is fairly classic rural animal and human interaction in Senegal however, this doesn't hold true with some of the larger mammals.

Lion - Ona return trip from Dakar I must pass through a National Park in which there is no cell service, houses, and one will see numerous monkeys, warthogs, and sometimes a lion. I got a fairly late start this particulair day getting out on the road for the last leg of my trip home. The sun began to set and most of the people in the car were asleep, thank goodness the driver was not. As we putted down the road a strangefigure began to emerge from the distance. The figure seemed to be laying on the road. My first assumption was it was a cow but as we approached I saw that it was a tad smaller than a cow. I live with Pulaar people I know what a cow looks like. I then decided it was a dog but quickly destroyed that though as the animal was much to large to be a dog. I hadn't made my third prediction when we arrived at the animal's resting spot. The driver was jsut as curious if not more than I in what this things actually was and upon learning what it was he quickly sped up and looked back at me.
He asked, "Did you see that?" Me, "Ya, what was it? Was it a lion?" He just nodded manicly and focused his speeding car down the road as his fear stem from the numerous stories people tell of bikers, herders, and even cars being chased, harrassed and sometimes destroyed by lions. I on the other hand was shocked but it made sense. This large figure mimicked the way a dog or cat would lay. It was smaller than a cow but much larger than a dog. It was a lion.

These are just a few of the animal encounters. Others include hearing Hyenas at night as they follow our cows back to the village, warthogs, and monkeys. I unforuntaely have not seen Chimpanzees yet but will before leaving. Any questions?

I stink at keeping this thing updated.

As the holliday times roll around volunteers begin to plan their trips home and families and friends begin to roll in to Senegal. As the times are in America, Senegal is happy and cheerful in the Peace Corps's world during the holidays. Even amongst the arguments over an upcoming election, this years drought, and the constant "Tobabing" children we volunteers seem to be able to make ourselves feel at home. Before I forget I'd like to wish you all a late Happy Thanksgiving, a Merry/Happy what ever religous holiday you celebrate and if none the have a good day, and of course a Happy New Year. Thought I would cover all the bases all at once just in case I don't write another blog post for the rest of my service.

I decided to jump back on the band wagon of blog posting after sharing some of the interesting stories I've thought I told my parents but have some how gotten lost in the back of my now some what Sengalese mind. Some of these are happy, some are sad and as I am a fisherman's son they may or may not be embelished. That is for the reader(s) to decide.

In an attempt to use this little intro blog as a reminder and table of contents for the stories I will lis the "chapters" of the stories below. Seeing how I have been eating straight pork for the past 2 days and ran 15 km today please frogive me if the stories aren't filling your new found appetite for fresh African stories.

Chapter One - Animals - Over my past year and few months in country I have encountered a few animals that many people will only see behind bars. Some deadly, some cute, and some tastey and all we seen while simply going about my daily business.

Chapter Two - Crime and Punishment - Everyone thinks that going into a third world country means on will have to strap on a bullet proof vest and buy one of those uncomfortable and akward traveling wallets. The fact is that yes people do view you as upper class, even if you aren't bac at home. The simple fact is that you have something they want and they may just decided to try and take it. A variety of crimes happen to volunteers here and across the world. I'd like to share my little incident and how I've never felt more at home while being no where near the place I truly call home.

Chapter 3 - Police - The most recent story about how one event can be ruined by what I deem as selfish.

Chapter 4 - Disease - Maybe the most gruesome of the chapters. I think it is time you hear about some of the diseases, illnesses, and health issues I have personally gone through while in Senegal.

Chapter 5 - Marathon - We'll try to end on a good note as I speak about beginning to train for a Marathon in March.

I hope this works and I actually saty on top of it for your benefit and mine. My Pops says I should share these stories and maybe some of them he hasn't even heard. So, here goes nothing. Fingers crossed I don't bore you too much.

Ramadan-Farms-Blah-Blah-Blah

So, it is another Friday and another radio show will but put on here in Kedougou. I am not sure I have ever describe what exactly our Peace Corps Radio Shows incorporates. I guess I should start now since I am in here.

The Peace Corps Kedougou Radio Show is a flavor of the week sort of show. What we talk about really depends on the time of year, genre (health, Ag, Agfo), and whether or not we feel it has importance (most of the time we do feel it has some importance). For example, last week June 22nd we spoke about correct spacing and thinning of corn and millet, Perma-gardening, and a little supply and demand. Most of these pieces are short, roughly 10 minutes, and explained with a straw-man skit. Straw-man means one of us acts completely naïve about whatever subject is being discussed while the other explains step by step what to do and why. The straw-man then repeat what the genius has taught him to reconfirm that he understands. It's a very effective way to communicate things that aren't directly tangible and the straw-man technique is extremely fun to play out as it often leads down random funny roads.

I'll try to post an example of one of our shows on the blog so you guys can listen to it.

Other than the radio show things haven't been too busy. Farming is continuing on at a frantic pace so that one doesn't have to farm too much during Ramadan, which starts on August 3rd. Apparently August is supposed to be the rainiest month of the year as well. That's good news because my local river and 2 foot waterfall should be flowing soon. I'll have to take some photos.

Over the last what ever its been. Time sort of flows together and gets lost here. Which is funny because they are obsessive about checking their watches and cell phones with me as well as each other to make sure they all have the same time. It always confuses me when someone asks me what time it is and their cell phone is in their hand. I don't always carry my cell phone on me so often times I just look at the sky and give my best estimate. I've gotten pretty good at it but no where near the mawbe (old men's) quality.

Some exciting news here on the West African coast in brevity:

Malaria and or Dengue are the new flu as mosquitoes take over
Presidential elections are getting heated as one candidate tries to slither his way through
Corn will soon be ready for fire roasting and eating at just 25cents a pop (too bad real butter melts in your pockets).
Waterfalls and skin infection win the awards for strangest couple and most eye opening.
PCV's being inventing a new extreme sport called mud skiing. (it involves some sort of vehicle usually a bike, rope, sticks and one large mus puddle).

That's all for now any request, comments, suggestions please feel free to let me know. Really I am just sort of writing this thing for the hell of it. I think there maybe a lot more interesting things written in my journal at site but I haven't mustered the courage to just directly copy yet.

Unitl next time I wish you guys all a good Ramadan. Eat lots of good food for me, for those of you near water sources jump in, those near forests/mountains go get lost for a while it's good for you, and for those of you who don't fall into either of these categories start you own small garden and experience just how good it feels to give life to something. Wonnen e Jam (Lets be in Peace).

Blog Report 15th July, 2011

Only a week since my last post, I think (not that I want to be this frequent), and I am back updating you, the reader, with my doings or do nothings. Let us begin with the rain. How marvelous the rain is after a few months of day after day of 110+ days. Even the shade under he mango tree was too hot to stand. Thank goodness the rainy season has arrived.

The month in July as all of you know and Kedougou, as I think I explained previously, just got done with their annual fourth of July party. I was in charge of cash/organization and am extremely glad the 4th passed with no serious injuries or malfunctions. Unfortunately that did mean I was out of village for roughly a week planning, nursing head aches, and saying good bye to a friend who is off to bigger and better adventures.

Adventures. I've been thinking a lot about adventures lately especially with all this rain and the mountains I live below. I know my area is beautiful but now that the dust is cleared I'm sure there are some good waterfalls, sights seeing spots or valleys that a beaming with new growth and fresh water. Over the past week in village I have made a little pat with myself to adventure a bit more at least once a week. I don't mean running off to the next village or going to the waterfalls I know exist. I'm talking about asking people where the biggest most beautiful places are, who lives at these places, how do I get there, can I take a bike, do they speak Pulaar, and Whose coming with me.

My self-pact doesn't mean I am playing hookey. On the contrary, one can only plant, weed, thin, and add fertilizer so many times. Corn, sorghum, peanuts, bean, and sweet potato have to grow on their own some time. I've got the date of importance marked on my calendar and will be there for the 15 day weeding and day 45 for adding fertilizer. However, those 30 days in between don't all have to be spent visiting farms or sitting around drinking tea.

You all are probably asking yourselves know, “So, what sort of thing has C.J. Gotten himself into? What have you done C.J.?”

Sorry, but over the past week I've been playing a little catch up and one of those important days (day 15 thinning) came and went with out a hitch. I'd did visit a new village, near mine, that butts right up against the mountain. The place is beautiful and they want a volunteer. I don't have the final word but I gave them the proper paper work and we'll see what happens. I also took a little adventure to some fields that are just recently being plowed and planted. Yes, I got lost a little but nothing to cry home to about (sorry mom and Dad). Other than these little trips I really haven't had any stories.

The main story has been rain and how wonderful it is. I am now taking hot bucket baths again. The combination of cold rain and hot water make for one delightful experience. Throw in a sunset and you've got one hell of a start to an evening. These little adventures and warm/cold bucket baths are what I enjoy most about this beautiful place I live in.

Alright, enough of the sappy 'oh, I live in Africa' business and on to some events, some news. I may have told you but my garden was eaten almost bare by goats. Stinks but I think with the rains it'll keep on truckin'. In other news, my boss visited me and gave me some props as well as some pointers. It must be a Peace Corps must for it's employees to be great motivators. Either way, he and I spent a few hours talking about my work and stuff and it made me feel important. Important like my work had a purpose other than to just feed people vegetables. Now-a-days, my focus has turned to farming and setting up small examples of mulching, spacing and thinning with in individual farmers fields (this should add to my adventuring).

Sorry this was a bit of a ramble with out much purpose or direction but I'm in a bit of a rush to get back to the fam-bam. Don't want to miss any more planting or the first opportunity to visit our very own 2 foot waterfall/swimming hole or fishing. I hope the rainy season is a good as I'm dreaming it will be. Water makes me happy and well the very name rainy season sounds like there should be quite a bit of rain.

For Kaveny,

Cooking a pig in the ground:
Items:
Rocks rouhgly 5-6 head sized and 2-4 fist sized
banan leaves and stalk or some other type of fire barrier and insulator
WOOD
Shovel
Drinks of choice
Golves
wire
chicken wire
Plastic tarp

Dig hole big enough to fit pig in with about a 4-6 inches of space all the way around it. Fill hole with wood and rocks. Light fire, relax, and prep pig (banana leave and stalks on outside pig but inside of chicken wire plus seasonings). Once fire has burned down to coals and rocks are red hot fish out the smaller rocks and stuff in side of pig stomach. Sew pig stomach up. Sew chicken wire with banana stalk, leaves and pig sandwich up nice and tight. Try to not let any of the pig show. Form crevice of rocks and coals in pit for pig to fit in. Place pig in, if you have one place a piece of sheet metal on top of the pig, extra banana stalks can also be used, if not bury pig with first layer of dirt. Place plastic tarp over first layer of dirt and then cover the tarp with dirt. This should reduce the amount of heat lost via the top of the hole significantly. Let pig cook for 10-15 hours dependent on size. You can't over cook it. When ready, dig up pig, clean off dirt, and eat.

One Great American Holiday

Alright I have been back and healed from my last post for abut a month now. Things have been going well and after a little catch up on work I seem to be back in the groove of things. I've distributed seeds to my farmers and educated them on the planting, saving, and caring techniques Peace Corps has passed down to me. Whether or not these techniques will be used is completely the farmers decision and from what I have seem so far the techniques have been ignored. I guess that what you get for trying to "change" a habit based on history and survival. All in all, I chalk it up as a success because I cans still try and at least get them to save the seed they do grow instead of being almost completely dependent on NGO's and other programs to come in and give them what they need.

Also, my garden was producing eggplant, okra, tomatoes, and green peppers like mad. Most of which, tomatoes and green peppers, I ate while in the garden while the eggplant and okra went to family and friends. I eas even able to supply a baby shower with enough eggplant and okra to be put in every bowl (for perspective roughly 40 people showed up not including my village). Pretty good I think. Unfortunately, the day before leaving for Kedougou (July 1st) my garden was broken into by some thieves, goats to be specific. They ate most of the okra, bitter tomatoe, beans, moringa, etc...etc.... Hopefully some of it is left but from what I saw the village isn't to interested in copying what I am doing but more so in just eating what I can produce.

Anyway, I also had a visitor, the volunteer before me, Steve, came back for a visit during his trip to Mali. It was wonderful to spend the day with him and hear what has changed, what he liked, what he actually did, and what the villagers lie about him doing. The village builds Steve up to be a real superhero so, it was nice to see how he really is and realize he is just human.

At the present moment, I am recovering from a long week of planning, creating, and enjoying our annual Fourth of July Party. I say planning but really nothing could be done with out the other volunteers in Kedougou. The party went smooth and I even cooked two Kalua Pigs (yup, dug the holes and everything). People loved them and I had never felt so Hawaiian before. Pulling the pigs out of the ground people began gathering, then I tore of some meat and gave it to someone for tasting. Eyes watered, saliva dribbled, and the frenzy began. I don't think it took more than 30 minutes for people to finish off these pigs. And that was that for the pigs. The party continued on into the night. I haven't heard one complaint.

Really now, this moment, I am putting together my life, getting all the things I have put off to plan the party done, in hopes I will be biking back out to the village this evening. I sadly have to say goodbye to a ear friend today. He'll be leaving for another adventure after serving here for a little over 3 years. I'm bummed but know we'll stay in touch. I'll say goodbye then hit the road and the next time I come in he'll be gone, still so strange. Until next time remember : Mon haylaaki, o haylay horee (The one who doesn't adventure, only shakes their head). Keep that in mind the next time you can't figure out what to do on a day off and just get out and walk around. You'll be surprised at the things you find.

6 New Volunteers, 11 Stitches, and 12 Days in Dakar

The title gives all the exciting points away but I'll try to keep you in a little but of suspense.

Part 1: 6 New Health and Environmental Education (EE) Volunteers

Yes, it is true I am now longer a "freshman" volunteer. I graduated on May 13th when the new group of Health/EE volunteers swore in at the American Embassy. Shortly after swear-in 6 of the newbies arrived in Kedougou, excited, eager, and scared to finally be out on their own in the place they will be spending the next 2 years of their lives. Unfortunately, (due to PC policy I cannot name all of them [Really this is just a good excuse because I can't remember all of their names. I hope none of them are reading this]). Any how, my area got one of the six new volunteers. It's a boy and his name is Ben. Ben is a genuine, fit, and sincere guy with a desire to get outside and go on adventures and learn the Pulaar tongue. You should have seen the smile on my face when I found out he liked adventures and Pulaar. Ben and I have hit it off so far but my first visit with him really made me realize just how "green" these new volunteers are. Things like cows and goats out in the open, always having a flashlight on me, and the large presence of different infections and disease don't shock me as much as they do him. One of my favorite conversations with Ben starts with him saying, "C.J. it gets really dark here."
Me: "Ya Ben. It's called night time."
Ben: "Ya I know but you can't see anything. "
Me: "It's night time there is no light. You didn't bring a flashlight."
Ben: "Not last night left it in my room before going to dinner. Then, it got really dark and I couldn't find my way back to my hut."
Me: " Alright, well...It gets dark, there are no lights, you need to carry a flashlight on you when you leave and don't excpect to be back before dark."
Ben: "Okay."
I don't mean to seem mean but thinking about it now I probably could've been more sensitive. The comment just caught me so off gaurd at the time. Ben is going to be a great volunteer and dark or light we will have some good times I am sure.

Part 2: 11 Stitches and 12 Days in Dakar

It all began Monday May 23, 2011. It was a simple and non-eventful day. I started with some work in the garden, then studied at the Priemer school near my village, before returning home for more gardening and a hope to kick the ball. Unfortunately the latter was changed when I kicked the sheet metal covering my wood frame door. Unknowlingly the bottom corner of sheet metal had come undone a little and on my way out to water my orange tree my left foot made its acquiantance. Feeling the impac but no real pain I instinctually looked down at my foot. To my surprise there was not much red but quite a bit of white. It took me a second to realize the white I saw was bone and the little of bit of red was rapidly growing. I dropped the bucket and picked up the first aid kit. My namesake, at that same moment, arrived at my hut to ask to use my bike. He was shocked to find me cleaning and tending to such a wound. His words were something like, "Oh my Good God" but in Arabic. I quickly put him work to get me water to clean up. With the wound attended to, I made the crucial decision that the wound was bad enough to call the medical staff and see what they would like me to do. I secretly already knew they were going to tell me to go to Dakar as quickly as possible to prevent possible infection and to get stitches which new would be needed.
Long story short I was driven to Kedougou with in an hour of the iccident by a teacher and on a bus to Dakar wih in 6 hours. I arrived in Dakar, saw the doctor, and was stitched up with in a day of initially cutting myself. Now, I am laid up in Dakar for 12 days with no real plans. The only good thing to come of it is that I will get to watch the Champions League final at the destination of my choice with some good friends and I'll try to write a few more blog posts to inform you a bit more of what I have been up to. Until then Yo Allah okkee mon cellal e golle e ko hondun fallaton. (May God offer you health, work, and what you want).

Being a Sustainble Agriculture Extension Agent

I think it is time to describe exactly what it is I am expected to do for my job and then what actually happens. I've explained this to a few people already (mainly the mawbes (parents) and sister) so here is, what I hope to be, a brief explanation of my job/direction while living here in Senegal. Oh, and Pictures will be included if the si internet jabi (if the internet agrees).

The pictures above are from my demostration garden in my village. As you can see there is still a lot of land to plant and improve upon. I myself haven't just done it because it's not my land and I've learned from experience that you don't necessarily learn something unless you practice it yourself. So, instead I am waiting for the day the women's group, village, chief, or someone approaches me and says, "Hey Mamadou I want to plant here. What can I do?" This may seem like a utopian approach to my "volunteer" work but it's the only way I feel I can make a direct short and long term change because the people approaching me for these techniques, I assume, want to learn them and will therefore use/practice them. Harsh to some and maybe not enough to others but that fact is I have two years here to work, play, and learn. Two years may seem like a long time but I've been here for 8 months now and it seems like yesterday I was just learning how to squat and properly wash myslef in the douche.

I am not going to lie to you and say my demo garden is just for learning. I definitely enjoy working, smashing bugs, planting seeds, and in general watching things grow. The kids seem to get a kick out of it too when they decide to try and help. However, the demo garden isn't the only way I "reach out" to find these motivated and interested people I am looking for. We also partner up with other NGO's such as, USAID and Trees for the Future, to put together informational meetings about such things as seed saving, seed distribution, tree pepeniers, and any other agricultural or agroforestry concerns one may want to attempt to learn. My experiece with these partnerships has been positive: 1.because the NGO workers are local and speak the local language much better than I and 2. They are used to interacting with Europeans ro Americans and there fore aren't consistently if ever asking me for things and on time . I guess you could say education, mostly pertaining to Agriculture and Agroforestry, is the main goal of my job (atleast as I see it).

Education is an important part of developing or imporving any one's or thing's living standards because one most understand why and for what he or she is changing the norm for. There fore, and to contrary popular belief most of my projects and successful projects are non-tangible. For example, the two Agroforestry meetings I've help set up and run or the mural I painted of the world are not projects that one can, usually, tangibly see the positive or negative results of because education takes time. Just think back to how long it took you to learn all 50 states or break a habit. In America, one may think these are just fun and "busy work" projects but in reality the pasing of knowledge via imagery and hands on experience is greater than the monetary handout that is mostly associated with the words help, project, and development. I want to give knowledge that can be passed on for years to come weven after I am old and having brain farts on a regular basis. Below, because I seem to ramble and rant when discussing this subject (it really is difficult to explain unless you've experienced it directly), are Peace Corps 3 simple goals written by John F. Kennedy back in 1961 to promote world peace and friendship (I think they are crucial in understanding where I got my methods from):

1.Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.

2.Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

3.Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

As you can see by just surviving in village and writing this blog post I am fulfilling all 3 of Peace Corps goals (which if you haven't notice contain no numbers, quotas or directly tangible "projects or delevopments.") Peace Corps' 3 simple goals are why my answers to the question, "So, C.J. what projects are you working on? or How are the proects coming along?" usually begin with, "ahhhhh, welllll, you seeee, can you define projects?" My overal, main, over reaching goal here is to share my culture with the people I encounter as well as to learn, practice, and share their culture with the one's who choose to follow me on my journey.

For me my Peace Corps experice(s) aren't about how many wells, forages, gardens, schools, fences, and any other useful structures one could build with the ludicrious amounts of grant money that is out there. No, I want to see how many people can learn something from or teach them something. The most difficult of change for any person is, what the experts call, a behavioral/habitual change such as using a douche rather than wherever you happen to be when nature calls or quiting nail biting. Sometimes these changes are fast, like my host father putting mulch around all of his mangoe trees, and other times this change is slow, like getting a village to undersand using a douche is more important than parading the fact of having a douche to boost you social status. This isn't too say I am against building/creating tangible projects. I just want that project to continue giving, helping, surviving and providing for the community and itself when I decide its time for me to move on. Again, referencing Peace Corps 3 goals because each is able to provide for itself when one moves on in one's life. (i.e. cultual exchange continues long after a Peace Corps volunteer leave's his or her village with the sharing of stories betwwen villagers and the people that volunteer meets (this is especially true now with the modern world's communication abilities)).

I hope this helps you guys understand why I answer "the project questions" with a sigh and grunt; and please understand that this is my opinion and you don't have to agree with it. This is simply the best way, I feel, I can enjoy, integrate, help, teach, learn, and LIVE during my service. Two years is a long time now but 23 years of life have gone by in a blink of an eye (ask my parents) and I feel I must find a balance of work, play, and pleasure inorder to fully experiece all of Senegal.

[Photos: not necessarily in order: bean flower, okra bigger than hand, okra flower, my garden, agfo pepenier training, and the beautiful mangoe that was chilled by the Segou stream. Tried to give a balance of work and play].

A month's review

April 24th, 2011

So, again it has been almost a month since I have last posted on my blog and to tell you the truth it doesn't feel like much has happened but I am sure things have changed a bit. For this blog I will consult my handy calendar book created by my wonderful friend and neighbor Katherine Crocker (KC for short).

Since I last wrote the college kids have left and I haven't heard a word from them since. I think they are okay though because some are staying at the Kedougou house now. April fools day has come and gone and I didn't act on either of my ideas for an April fools joke. The first was to pack up all my stuff and begin walking out of my village. This gesture would provoke the questions, “where are you going?” “why do you have all those bags?' I would respond, “I'm going home. I miss my family too much.” This would only be funny because my village is very paranoid that I will not return whenever I leave the village. I decided against the “fake going home” because it would probably cause I village wide panic and my father may have had a heart-attack. I don't want to be responsible for the pain/death of an old man. The second idea was to switch the usual tea sugar with salt. It would have been a classic switch -a-roo that probably would have gotten some laughs and been a lot less harmful than the previous idea. Instead, my joke on April fools was a complete fluke. I was sitting making tea with my counterpart and some friends when the sugar ran out for the third round. (side note tea in Senegal is taken in 3 rounds in which a shot glass of sugar is added in each round. People are served a ¾ shot glass full of tea at each round. For good tea sessions it is best to have less than 5 people drinking tea from one pot). Usually when the sugar runs out one would ask for more sugar. I, being American and sugared out, decided I would just continue making tea and see if anyone noticed since there was already so much sugar in their anyway. No one had noticed that sugar hadn't been added when began pouring the first glass to be distributed to my counter-part. He took the glass and with the first sip made the infamous bitter beer taste. He immediately shot me a quizzical look and handing me back the still full glass asked, “Did you add sugar?” Knowing I hadn't I responded, “Yes, I added it on the first and second rounds.” He was a little annoyed but still playing along when he specified his question to the third round. I answered, “No, there is no more sugar so, I made American tea with out sugar.” Everyone began to laugh and quickly ask to be served their share of the tea. Some lied it, most hated it but in the end everyone got a good laugh.

Moving along through the month of April we come to the 4th also known as Senegal's Independence Day. I decided to head into Kedougou after being told by everyone kid in village about the Independence parade that took pace on the fourth. Curiosity got the best of me and I left the afternoon of the 3rd to be sure to be on time for the parade on the 4th. I left earlier than normal on the 3rd because it wasn't too hot and I didn't have anything else to do in village. I decided to take a different route than normal. The route took me past a village I hired to make some shelves and then continued on through the bush to the Kedougou road. I was told it would be a lot faster and it might have been if I could ride my bike on it. The road was skinny and blocked by numerous fallen and live trees. I walked my bike most of the way but when I could ride it I did. This is where the fun begins. Five minutes into riding my bike on the path my front tire goes flat, which usually isn't a big deal until found out my pump doesn't work. Long story short, I ended up walking 25-30km towards Kedougou before getting picked up by some boys from a surrounding village. The boys, also on bikes, allowed me to sit on the back of one of their bike and push my bike along side me. We did this for the last 5km.

Back to the parade/march. I got up early to run to the market before the parade started at 9 am. My promptness paid off and I got a good seat with some kids on a wall adjacent the road to be marched on. I though, “This is great I have an unobstructed view and some kids to mess around with. It'll be a good parade.” On the wall I sat for roughly an hour waiting for the parade to start. 10 am rolled around and the parade looked like it might begin at any moment but I still hadn't seen any kids, parents, NGOs, or other group that looked like they would march besides the Senegalese military. 10:30 am the parade starts and a military band begins to blare its trumpets. The Senegalese police force is first, then the army, then what I am guessing is air force and then no one. The parade ends in less than 5 minutes. A little astonished/bewildered I sat on the wall for a few more minutes watching the most exciting part of the parade, the Senegalese Army, continues marching and chanting while spectators followed and chanted beside them. Next time I'll get more details about the celebration but it was good for me to see and be seen by some of my community members and to support such an important holiday.

So, this post is getting long I'll try and be a bit more brief. Back in Togue we've had an explosion of baby births. 3 this month so far. What takes place at a Senegalese baby shower is the naming of the baby just born. The parents choose the name but nothing is official until it is whispered in the ear of the religious leader, Imam, and repeated with some Koranic verses. A pretty special and spiritual process. Rice powder mixed with honey, cobal (choball), is divided and distributed to everyone after the name is announced. Then, there is a lot of sitting until the food is served, usually rice with a peanut sauce, and the ceremony takes a rest before eating again. The denabou, as the Pullaar call it, takes up most of the day and is usually fairly uneventful but a good break from work.

The next event to happen in April, was KC and my bike trip to Segou via the mountains. It took one day, roughly 25 km, but due to some work constraints we couldn't start till the heat of the day. After some flat tires and rest stops we made it to the Gambian river (5km from Segou) and swam in it to cool off before continuing on to Segou. We arrived unscathed, tired, and a little dehydrated but excited for the waterfall the next day. The trip was definitely worth while and photos can be seen on my facebook.

April turned out to be a pretty heavily packed month with the above events coupled with the new volunteers coming down for their first visits, my garden getting bigger, mangoes being extremely ripe and plentiful, and KC's announcement of leaving early to attend grad school. I've had a busy month and only going to get busier once KC leaves. Jessica, my other neighbor, and I will be the oldest volunteers out our way giving us the full responsibility to set up new sites, answer questions and explore. I'm a little scared but I think I'll managed some how. April hasn't ended and KC is still here. I plan on picking her brain and hanging out until she finally leaves. May can only bring new lessons and adventures.

So, I've finished with the month of April until now. Sorry it was a bit rushed but I'm happy to answer any questions. Now, I'll leave you with a funny story that made me think I was in America. It was a Thursday afternoon and I was heading to the Lumo (weekly market) in Fungolimbi (15km towards Guinea up a mountain). KC and I usually hang out at Lumo discussing language and culture. I was getting a late start and had on the pants I had been wearing for the past 3 days. Before leaving I always let my parents know, just like in America, but this time I was confronted not about where I was going or when I'd be back but because my pants were too dirty. My mother told me I could not go unless I changed my pants. I asked why and she responded because they are dirty. Enter my father who is now curious about where I am going. I tell him and he gives me the same talk about changing my pants. I tell them my pants are going to get dirty going up the mountain anyway so what is the difference? Simultaneously, they respond, “It makes you look bad, your family look bad, and your mother look bad because if your pants are dirty then people think we are not washing your clothes or taking care of you.” I simply couldn't help but smile and laugh a little as it reminded me of the time my mother, biological, sniffed me in the movie theater and told me, not very subtly, “You stink. You need to shower when you get home” before returning her attention back to the movie. Any where you go parents are the same. They only want their kids to present themselves and their families in the best light whether that is through clothing, bathing, or manners. So, to end the story I couldn't change my pants because the rest were just as dirty. We compromised. I bought soap at the Lumo and she did my laundry on Friday. Almost like home.


Shout out:
Frank Guzzardo say hi to his mother.