So it is still technically the "cold" season here and guess what the temperature is? 100 degrees. Awesome. Not very cold, right? That's what I said.
With that in mind, some friends and I are biking to The Gambia today for soft serve ice cream. It's about a 40 kilometer bike ride from my village to The Gambia, but if all goes well, it will be worth it. However, nothing is really going as planned. I was supposed to meet 3 other volunteers in Velingara, a town 20 kilometers from my village, this morning at 11. From there we were planning on biking the remaining 20 kilometers to Basse, The Gambia. However each of the 4 of us have had some difficulties getting here.
As for me, as I was biking out of my village to the school this morning to meet my French tutor, I got a flat tire. Great. So, I walked my bike about 3 kilometers to the school and was very late for my French lesson. After the lesson I was planning on bikng here (Velingara) to meet my friends, but instead I had wait on the side of the road for a car to take me and my broken bike here. When I finally arrived, I paid someone to put air into my tire and happily went to meet my friends. About 15 minutes later, though, I realized that in my absentminded rush to meet my friends, I left my backpack at the bike place. So, I turn around, walk all the way back to the pike place, get my backpack, and go back to meet my friends. Unfortunately, however, as I was walking away, my tire immediately went flat again. I was very annoyed and very hot at this point. I met one of my friends, who told me that she had forgotten her passport in her village and was contemplating biking back to get it. The two other people we were waiting on were having transport difficulties and said they wouldn't be here until this afternoon. So, to make a long story short, we had time to kill. At the present moment my bike is being repaired and will hopefully be fixed by the time we all are ready to leave here.
As for the ice cream, aside from transportation issues, we also have to hope that the electricity came on today in Basse for the guy to prepare it. Apparently the electricity only comes on from 6am-10am and 6pm-10pm there. So, yesterday we had to call the guy and tell him that we were coming and make sure that he knows to prepare the ice cream. Additionally, we called him this morning to remind him again, because apparently he has to prepare the ice cream in the morning when the electircity is on and then wait for the electiricty to come back on in the evening to serve it. The elctiricty often doesn't come on at all here for no good reason, so we are placing a pretty big bet on the fact that the electircity comes on both times today and stays on long enough for this guy to make and serve the glorious ice cream.
Since we have to wait until the evening to have the ice cream, we are going to have to spend the night there. Luckily there is a Peace Corps house there that we can stay at for free. Tomorrow, after biking back here, Im going to go to my friend Holly's village to help her with a mosquito net project we are doing here. Unfortunately my internet time is running out, but I will write more about the mosquito net distribution project we are doing next time I come to the internet.
Hope everyone is having a great week!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Pictures instead of 1,000 words
Hello all!
I've been really busy lately and haven't had much of a chance to write any new blog entries. In lieu of a blog, here are some links to pictures I have recently posted:
Enjoy! PS if you are reading my blog and would like me to continue writing it, please let me know. Thanks and hope everyone is having a very happy new year!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
I know it's a little late, but I just wanted to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving! I also would like to write a little about my pilgrim-style Thanksgiving experience here.
So, there were 3 main options for big American-style (what other style there is, I don't know) Thanksgiving celebrations here in Senegal; the Peace Corps regional houses in the North and in Kedougou were both were planning big dinners, or we were all also invited to dinner at the Ambassador's in Dakar. I was planning on going to the one closest to me in Kedougou, but the day before just didn't really feel like making the journey and honestly just felt indifferent about the whole Thanksgiving celebration here. My friends Josh and Tracy also felt the same way, so
we decided to stay here and cook our own Thanksgiving dinner.
The cooking was interesting; we didn't have much to work with as far as making "traditional" Thanksgiving dishes with ingredients from the market. Also, Tracy and Josh are both vegetarians, and I'm not a pilgrim, we didn't have a turkey. I lack the know-how and desire to go through the process of "live turkey in the market" to "Thanksgiving feast turkey on the table." Those skills are required here just as much as they were for that first Thanksgiving, and I'd rather just go without.
The celebration of Thanksgiving is not just about eating good food, though. It's also about giving thanks and being with people you care about. With that in mind, we decided to invite some guests to our celebration: Sara, a woman who is doing research for a Fulbright here and her husband, our favorite guard El Hajj, and two other Senegalese men, Pap and Ibrahaima, who are not only great friends but also very helpful to Tamba volunteers in a variety of ways.
I've never really done much of the "lets all say what we are thankful for" in past Thanksgivings, but this year I was all about it. I began the giving of thanks by saying how thankful I was to be surrounded by so many great friends: tha
nkful to be in the same region as Tracy a
nd Josh, thankful to learn about and be able to help Sara's Fulbright research, and especially thankful for the special relationships I have formed with the Senegalese people we invited.I then went on to say that I'm thankful for this entire Peace Corps experience- the highs and the lows- and for the personal growth phase I am going through right now. I'm thankful for friends and family that haven't forgot about me and make sure that I know it. I'm thankful for so very much, I could go on and on, which is also something to be thankful for. Eventually I stopped being sentimental and let everyone else have their turn, and it was just such a touching experience to go around the table and hear what everyone was thankful for. Spanning nationality, religion, and culture, and so much more, there were general things that we all gave thanks for- the families we were born in to and the families we have made, health, food on the table and love in our hearts.
This was my first Thanksgiving away from home, and I expected it to be hard for me, but having dinner with so many interesting, dynamic people from such different backgrounds really felt like the true spirit of Thanksgiving to me. What I want to say is that this Thanksgiving was the first time that I have seriously thought about how much I have to be thankful for. It's taken me almost 9 months, but I am finally becoming energized and engaged and comfortable here. What I've learned recently is that the frustrations, disappointments and heartaches I experience here will eventually be made up for by the fascinations, euphoria's, and revelations. I'm in the fascinations, euphoria's, and revelations stage right now and couldn't be happier.
Much love to all of you, and Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Girls Leadership Camp: An Attempt To Tip The Scales
So far, any health work I've done in my village has been very informal and not very well received. Even if I have helped educate people in my village about health topics, I really haven't ever felt like I've made that big of a difference in their lives. I recently was able to do some very fun and fulfilling work outside of my village, helping my closest neighbors Sara, Sharon, and Erin do a girl’s leadership camp in Koumpentoum, the departmental capital of Tamba. The three of them had written and received a grant for this camp and subsequently planned most of it all before I even arrived to Tamba, but even though I wasn't a part of the initial planning stages, but I was able to help with its implementation and it was very gratifying, to say the least.
The idea for doing a girls leadership camp stemmed from The Michele Sylvester Memorial Scholarship Fund program, which is funded by friends and family of Peace Corps Senegal who are committed to girls' education in Senegal, many of which have experienced the real circumstances when it comes to girls education here. In short, there are many economic, cultural, and social barriers that keep girls from attending and succeeding in school. UNICEF estimates that almost two-thirds of women age 15 and up in Senegal are illiterate, and that only 16 percent of Senegalese girls finish elementary school and go on to secondary school. With that in mind, scholarships are awarded at the middle school level only and are based on the girls' GPA, motivation, need, and location. Each girl receives a grant of 25,000 CFA (app. US$ 50) to help with school supplies, uniforms, and other school-related costs. The whole application, interview, selection, and awarding of scholarships process is done exclusively by Peace Corps volunteers. Approximately 30 scholarships are awarded annually throughout Senegal, enabling the recipients to have access to continued education and all of the possibilities that come along with it.
After the scholarships were awarded, Sara, Sharon, and Erin were looking for a way to further interact with the girls who had been nominated but didn't win. They chose to do a girls leadership camp to motivate and encourage all of the girls involved in the nomination/scholarship process in their studies. There were a total of 20 girls invited to the camp; 12 girls from Koumpentoum and 8 girls from Kuchaba, a town 30K into the bush from Koumpentoum. The broad goal our camp was simply developing and encouraging life skills such as communication, decision making, thinking, managing emotions, assertiveness, and self-esteem building.
Special thanks to:
Sara's parents in America for having 50 shirts made and sent for the camp.
Front: Girls Leadership Camp, Koumpentoum 2008
Back: Girls Education: To Give Them The Power To Pursue All Of Their Dreams
Thanks also to:
-Some of Sara's previous co-workers for sending 2 whole boxes of notebooks for the girls.
-Some of Sara's previous co-workers for sending 2 whole boxes of notebooks for the girls.
-Katherine Suri and members of The First Presbyterian Church of Mountain View, CA for their generous donation of pens, pencils, and stickers.
All of these donations were greatly appreciated by all involved and allowed us to make gift packages for all of the girls. Thanks for your help!)
On the first day of the camp, the girls arrived and received their gift bundles of t-shirts, pens, pencils, stickers, and notebooks. We then introduced our panel of successful women, which included a midwife, teacher, leader of the girl’s academic excellence club in Koumpentoum, and radio station technician. These women then each talked about the obstacles they had faced, how they were able to overcome them in order to get to where they are now, and their plans for the future. After that, we had a question-answer session with the girls and the women on the panel. I think this discussion was really motivating for the girls because the women on the panel were all from the Koumpentoum region and had similar upbringings. Their success showed the girls that they too have the same chances for personal liberation of unprecedented dimension and opportunity.
All of these donations were greatly appreciated by all involved and allowed us to make gift packages for all of the girls. Thanks for your help!)
On the first day of the camp, the girls arrived and received their gift bundles of t-shirts, pens, pencils, stickers, and notebooks. We then introduced our panel of successful women, which included a midwife, teacher, leader of the girl’s academic excellence club in Koumpentoum, and radio station technician. These women then each talked about the obstacles they had faced, how they were able to overcome them in order to get to where they are now, and their plans for the future. After that, we had a question-answer session with the girls and the women on the panel. I think this discussion was really motivating for the girls because the women on the panel were all from the Koumpentoum region and had similar upbringings. Their success showed the girls that they too have the same chances for personal liberation of unprecedented dimension and opportunity.
The next session was basically an introduction to the topic of gender and was led by Erin, a volunteer whose d
rive and dedication to the development of Senegal makes her not only a great role model for fellow volunteers (aka
me), but also for the girls at our camp. She began by describing the difference between "sex" and "gender roles". We then handed the girls "gender cards" with words such as: control, strength, caring for the sick, violence, work, money, cooking, religion, intelligence, leadership, ect. We told them not to look at their cards until we said "go!" at which time they were to tape their cards in what they thought to be the appropriate area on a board we had made that had "Female" and "Male" on different sides.
She then asked the group if everyone agreed on the placement of the cards, which sparked debate among participants regarding how the culture views certain activities in terms of gender. After asking the opinions of all participants, most of the cards were eventually moved to the area in between "Male" and "Female," an area that nobody had even originally thought to be an option when they originally decided where to put their cards.
Erin ended the session by having the girls list some of the gender roles expected of men and women in Senegal. They then discussed challenges to current gender roles and ways to foster change within the community and culture. I think it was a really great session and helped the girls to realize that gender is determined by culture- it is how the community wants you to behave and think based on whether you are a man or a woman. Complete changes in attitudes about these issues probably didn't happen from this session, but it at least formed a base for the beginning of the girls' thought processes around these issues and how they affect their lives and futures.
After this session, Michele, Sara, and I went to pick up lunch and made were laughed at by all of Koumpentoum as we walked from the cook's house to the community center we were using for the camp. White girls with bowls on their heads are always an entertaining sight for Senegalese people.
For the last session of the day we showcased Elle Travaille, Elle Vit! (She Works, She Lives!), a documentary produced by Peace Corps v
olunteers highlighting achievements made by five women from poor families. The objective of the film is to promote, among young Senegalese girls, the idea that it is possible for everybody to succeed, regardless of their family’s financial situation. USAID loaned us a projector and it was so amazing to watch the girls- many of whom have never watched or seen a TV- see this documentary. It is very well put together and interesting and I would highly recommend it to any of you all who are interested in this topic. It's in French but there are English subtitles, and the website is http://www.peaceonlyproductions.blogspot.com/. After the video, we had dinner and then had a dance party, which was lots of fun for all involved; Senegalese people love to dance and also love forcing American's to join in, and then laughing at/with us for our lack of rhythm.
The second day was amazing because Awa, who is the culture/homestay trainer for the Peace Corps in Thies, came all the way to Koumpentoum to lead sessions for the day. I cannot explain how much I personally love Awa.We have a special bond; she helped me through some issues I had during training, installed me into my village. But my love for Awa is beside the point. She is one of the women featured in Elle Travaille, Elle Vit! , and it just a great role model and motivator for young women.
She led sessions on developing life skills such as good communication and negotiating, making appropriate decisions, thinking through the consequences, and delivering assertive messages. She split the girls into groups and gave them hypothetical situations- a father refusing to let his daughter continue going to school and arranging an early marriage, rape by a family member, ect. - and had them perform skits based on how they would deal with the given problem. These skits and following discussions really helped the girls develop critical thinking skills and taught them a number of alternatives in dealing with difficult situations.
After Awa's sessions, we had a recognition ceremony for all of the girls at the camp. We invited their families, gendarmes (police), teachers, principals, religious 
leaders, an
d other community members. Erin led most of the ceremony and began by thanking everyone for their support and talking about the importance of girls’ education and empowerment. She then recognized each of the girls, and then two of the groups with the best skits preformed their skits for the audience, followed by all the girls singing a song about women's empowerment. After all of that, some of the teachers and community members made brief speeches and thanked us for our work with the girls and just thanked us over and over again, then thanked the Peace Corps, then thanked America, and one teacher even ended his speech with, "viva America! Viva Obama!" which I thought was a nice touch.
leaders, an
d other community members. Erin led most of the ceremony and began by thanking everyone for their support and talking about the importance of girls’ education and empowerment. She then recognized each of the girls, and then two of the groups with the best skits preformed their skits for the audience, followed by all the girls singing a song about women's empowerment. After all of that, some of the teachers and community members made brief speeches and thanked us for our work with the girls and just thanked us over and over again, then thanked the Peace Corps, then thanked America, and one teacher even ended his speech with, "viva America! Viva Obama!" which I thought was a nice touch.It was just really nice to hear
all of these important people say thank yo
u to us and that they appreciated our work. It's just not something you hear very often here, and even though I didn't even play that big of a role in the whole camp, it was still the most heartwarming, "maybe I am doing some good here, after all" feeling. I can't really explain it but I really think it's true that as a volunteer, you get just as much as you give out of your work. 
all of these important people say thank yo
u to us and that they appreciated our work. It's just not something you hear very often here, and even though I didn't even play that big of a role in the whole camp, it was still the most heartwarming, "maybe I am doing some good here, after all" feeling. I can't really explain it but I really think it's true that as a volunteer, you get just as much as you give out of your work. 
The rest of the photos from the camp are posted here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/GirlsLeadershipCamp#
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/GirlsLeadershipCamp#
Hope all is well with you all and keep in touch!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Learning To Live With What I Am
So. I shaved my head, as many of you know. Contrary to what some of you may be thinking, no, I haven't completely lost my mind. I know, I know, the odds aren't exactly in my favor: remote village in Africa, no electricity/running water/cell phone reception, nearest white person/person that speaks English 45K away, ect. BUT, for the time being, I am clear headed and in touch with the real world. Well, most of the time. Anyway, since it is kind of a radical thing to do and some of you may be interested, I thought I would write a little bit about it on here.
First off, I have no idea why, but ever since I found out I was going to be coming to Africa, I always joked that I wanted to shave my head. I really can't explain why that idea ever came into my mind, but I never seriously thought about it more than thinking it would be cool to do.
In May of 2007, 3 months before I was originally supposed to come to here, I cut 10 inches of my hair off for Locks of Love. My hair was really long at the time, and I figured it was a good idea to cut my hair off before I came here. Anyway, I absolutely hated my hair that short. The great thing, however, was that any time I got upset and felt ugly, I just reminded myself that I cut my hair for a good cause that I really believed in. Here's the basic info about Locks of Love from their website:
Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers.
So, even though I hated how I looked then, I just kept telling myself that my hair will always grow back, but for the with alopecia areata, theirs won't. So, I got over it. As an added bonus, a few months later, my mom donated her hair, too.
Fast forward to Senegal. For the first few months, as many of you know, I really wasn't happy here and came very close to ET'ing (et = early termination) on several occasions. I always said, though, if after IST (in service training) in August, I went back to my village and was happy and felt confident that I would be able to stay for the full 2 years, I would shave my head. Well, I had some ups and downs and plenty of "am I doing any good here? is this worth it?" moments, but I got through all of it and feel stronger because of it.
The biggest contributing factor to me shaving my head was simply because here in Senegal, my hair was a hassle and nothing more. This is what washing my hair in the village would entail: rationing water for a few days and saving up enough to wash my hair (no way was I going to pull and carry more water on my head just to wash my hair: that's hard work), then shampooing and conditioning it via bucket bath, and then beginning the battle that was combing out the various knots/dreds that had formed since the last time I had washed my hair. Oh, and to add to the fun, being naked and thus a huge target for mosquitoes, flies, bees, and the like during the whole ordeal.
The other reason I wanted to shave my head was the fact that I have only attempted to wear my hair down on two occasions in this country, and have only succeed once because it's just way too hot to have hair on your neck here. Yes, some people with long hair do wear it down here, some even on a daily basis, but for me, I would just rather be a little bit cooler and have my hair up than sacrifice my comfort in order to feel pretty and have my hair down, you know?
So anyway, the other day I was washing my hair and being grumpy about it, when I had a brilliant the brilliant idea to shave my head and be Britney Spears for Halloween. I mean, I needed something to motivate me to turn thought into action, you know? I thought about it for a while, and then the thought came to me that my hair was probably long enough to donate to Locks of Love. When I came to Tamba, I measured checked the Locks of Love FAQ and measured my hair, and sure enough, my hair was long enough. So, with a lot of moral support and a little booze, I made up my mind to do it. That night my friends took turns cutting my hair off (and into a mullet, then a rat tail, just for fun, too), and then the next day two of my good friends went with me to the barber shop to buzz the rest off.
Everything happened so fast, I didn't really have time to freak out about much of it. I did cry when I looked in the mirror after my friends cut it all off. I freaked, felt like I had just made myself so ugly, and was really angry at myself for doing it. That had to happen at some point though, right? Anyway, I eventually got it out and that was the end of the tears. The next morning I woke up and my first thought was that I didn't want to look in the mirror. I then proceed to have a pep talk with myself and promised myself that from that point on, I wasn't going to say or think anything negative about my hair. It wasn't easy and I definitely slipped a few times, but I have really been making an effort to stop beating myself up so much in my head about my hair, body, competence, ect. Sometimes I really can be my own worst enemy and it has got to stop. One of the main reasons I joined Peace Corps was to work on myself, especially my self confidence.
It's crazy how hair affects not only our appearance but also our identity. I am trying to find my true self, and not being confident in my looks or who I am is not going to be part of that true self. I finally have come to realize that there is no duality in life, there is no separation, only the whole. I can't be strong and independent and still beat myself up about my appearance. Slowly I will rebaptize self-inflicted negativity as self-confidence.
I read this quote recently and it really rang true to me:
“If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?”
So, that about covers everything. Only one person so far has asked me if I'm a man or a woman, so that's a plus. At the end of the day, hair is just hair and I'm happy I did it.
Here's the link to the pictures of it all:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/ShavingMyHeadHalloween2008#
First off, I have no idea why, but ever since I found out I was going to be coming to Africa, I always joked that I wanted to shave my head. I really can't explain why that idea ever came into my mind, but I never seriously thought about it more than thinking it would be cool to do.
In May of 2007, 3 months before I was originally supposed to come to here, I cut 10 inches of my hair off for Locks of Love. My hair was really long at the time, and I figured it was a good idea to cut my hair off before I came here. Anyway, I absolutely hated my hair that short. The great thing, however, was that any time I got upset and felt ugly, I just reminded myself that I cut my hair for a good cause that I really believed in. Here's the basic info about Locks of Love from their website:
Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers.
So, even though I hated how I looked then, I just kept telling myself that my hair will always grow back, but for the with alopecia areata, theirs won't. So, I got over it. As an added bonus, a few months later, my mom donated her hair, too.
Fast forward to Senegal. For the first few months, as many of you know, I really wasn't happy here and came very close to ET'ing (et = early termination) on several occasions. I always said, though, if after IST (in service training) in August, I went back to my village and was happy and felt confident that I would be able to stay for the full 2 years, I would shave my head. Well, I had some ups and downs and plenty of "am I doing any good here? is this worth it?" moments, but I got through all of it and feel stronger because of it.
The biggest contributing factor to me shaving my head was simply because here in Senegal, my hair was a hassle and nothing more. This is what washing my hair in the village would entail: rationing water for a few days and saving up enough to wash my hair (no way was I going to pull and carry more water on my head just to wash my hair: that's hard work), then shampooing and conditioning it via bucket bath, and then beginning the battle that was combing out the various knots/dreds that had formed since the last time I had washed my hair. Oh, and to add to the fun, being naked and thus a huge target for mosquitoes, flies, bees, and the like during the whole ordeal.
The other reason I wanted to shave my head was the fact that I have only attempted to wear my hair down on two occasions in this country, and have only succeed once because it's just way too hot to have hair on your neck here. Yes, some people with long hair do wear it down here, some even on a daily basis, but for me, I would just rather be a little bit cooler and have my hair up than sacrifice my comfort in order to feel pretty and have my hair down, you know?
So anyway, the other day I was washing my hair and being grumpy about it, when I had a brilliant the brilliant idea to shave my head and be Britney Spears for Halloween. I mean, I needed something to motivate me to turn thought into action, you know? I thought about it for a while, and then the thought came to me that my hair was probably long enough to donate to Locks of Love. When I came to Tamba, I measured checked the Locks of Love FAQ and measured my hair, and sure enough, my hair was long enough. So, with a lot of moral support and a little booze, I made up my mind to do it. That night my friends took turns cutting my hair off (and into a mullet, then a rat tail, just for fun, too), and then the next day two of my good friends went with me to the barber shop to buzz the rest off.
Everything happened so fast, I didn't really have time to freak out about much of it. I did cry when I looked in the mirror after my friends cut it all off. I freaked, felt like I had just made myself so ugly, and was really angry at myself for doing it. That had to happen at some point though, right? Anyway, I eventually got it out and that was the end of the tears. The next morning I woke up and my first thought was that I didn't want to look in the mirror. I then proceed to have a pep talk with myself and promised myself that from that point on, I wasn't going to say or think anything negative about my hair. It wasn't easy and I definitely slipped a few times, but I have really been making an effort to stop beating myself up so much in my head about my hair, body, competence, ect. Sometimes I really can be my own worst enemy and it has got to stop. One of the main reasons I joined Peace Corps was to work on myself, especially my self confidence.
It's crazy how hair affects not only our appearance but also our identity. I am trying to find my true self, and not being confident in my looks or who I am is not going to be part of that true self. I finally have come to realize that there is no duality in life, there is no separation, only the whole. I can't be strong and independent and still beat myself up about my appearance. Slowly I will rebaptize self-inflicted negativity as self-confidence.
I read this quote recently and it really rang true to me:
“If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?”
So, that about covers everything. Only one person so far has asked me if I'm a man or a woman, so that's a plus. At the end of the day, hair is just hair and I'm happy I did it.
Here's the link to the pictures of it all:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/ShavingMyHeadHalloween2008#
Thursday, October 2, 2008
New Pics
I posted some so pics from my friend Sara's Birthday party in Tamba.
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/SaraSBday#
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/SaraSBday#
Not Not Scared
Part of me is hesitant to write about the challenges I have been faced with this month in any specific sense. Part of me wants to keep what I write on here as positive and un-bitchy as possible, but another part of me is all it’s my blog, I can post whatever the hell I want, I can abstain from posting whatever the hell I want, I don’t owe anybody anything. Furthermore, it's a good story and ultimately a good example of the kind of adversity that I came here to experience- the kind that truly tests me. Here goes:
The village I live in is probably typical of many rural villages in Senegal and the rest of Africa. The people in my village are isolated from most outside influences, and this isolation manifests itself in completely unpredictable ways. In broad terms, the isolation of rural villages here provides avenues for world views that are both specialized and universal, and it has particularly validated world views that are patently unreasonable.
For example: In my village, without exception, parents buy special necklaces called gre-gries for their babies. These necklaces are purchased from the local witch doctor and are believed to protect the babies from harm. No problem there, right? Well, one day I was told matter-of-factly by someone in my village that gre-gries are much more than good luck charms: This person claimed that if someone shot a gun at a baby wearing a gre-grie, the bullet would "bounce off." What?! Luckily, gunshot wounds don't really pose a threat to babies here, but I would hate to see that theory tested. I said something to that effect, in an attempt to shake some logic into this person, but everyone else within earshot backed this person up and thus prompted a spirited debate about the "powers" of gre-gries. It was me against the village, and logic was no argument for them. They claimed that "people they knew" had actually seen the invincible shield qualities of the gre-gries against gunshot wounds. A mind-numbing percentage of Pulaars actually believe this, and our debate went on for several minutes, finally ending in a stalemate when I realized that I had absolutely no chance in changing their minds about what is ultimately a harmless, though completely illogical, belief. At the end of the day it really just bothered me that I had to prove something this elementary. And prove it to people to whom I could never hope to convince.
That's just a glance into the absurdity of Pulaar beliefs, but what about the folks who actually take this crackpot logic as irrefutable fact? I spend a lot of time with them, and I can honestly say that most of them are decent, well-intentioned people. The other day I found out that in some cases, they're just dangerously deluded.
This particular day started out like any other day during Ramadan. For me, this meant sitting under the tree in my compound all day attempting to appease the people in my village by socializing with them. What actually happens, though, is they talk over my head while I daydream and pretend to be intrigued with whatever they are saying, which I'm pretty sure isn't fooling anyone, since they all continue to discuss daily the all the progress I am failing to make in my Pulaar.
ANYWAY, I was just sitting there, not paying attention, when my host father came up to me and told me he wanted to show me something in my next door neighbor, Mama Igne's, backyard. He is always doing this sort of thing, coming up to me with this goofy look on his face and then proceeding to show me something insignificant that he thinks I will be amazed by. Sometimes it's an empty Fanta bottle he found, sometimes it's a dirty potato someone gave him; it's always something completely random but it's kind of endearing because I can tell that he thinks that seeing these things will make me happy because he thinks they will remind me of home.
So, with this in mind, I followed him into Mama Igne's backyard and obeyed when he told me to walk towards her douche area. Much to my horror, that tricky bastard had me walk right up to what appeared to be the brand new home of a bunch of big, scary snakes. For reasons I'm not really sure of, I didn't freak out that much. I sort of just abruptly turned around and got the hell out of there. Actually, now that I think about it, I wasn't that scared because I was positive that my dad was for-sure immediately going to get his machete and kill every last one of them.
If you're like me, when you see snakes, especially snakes in Africa, you want them dead. So, when I asked what I thought to be the perfectly logical question, "Well, aren't you going to kill them?" I was shocked when he said no. I then asked every other man that was in our compound at the time the same question, and when they all said no, I realized that things were about to take a turn for the worse.
What I could never fathom, and still can't, really, is the reason why nobody would kill the snakes: Pulaar people, at least the ones in my village, believe that if they kill a snake, their cows will die. To put this in context, it is worth noting that Pulaar people are herders. Owning a cow is the only real source of wealth any of the men in my village will ever have. Therefore, cattle are often the top priority. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but I couldn't help but feel personally insulted when I found out that cattle even outrank me. That's a bitter pill to swallow.
I should have known it would be futile, but I attempted to reason with them. I mean, here's a fact of life: There are 9 different types of deadly snakes in Senegal. Yes, deadly. Especially for children and especially for people in remote villages -like the one I now call home- that are hours away from emergency medical care.
What's so disquieting to me is the fact that the only thing separating me from these snakes is a shoddy bamboo fence that is barely taller than I am and often falls down when it rains. Considering that, and the fact that getting over what I believe is a perfectly reasonable fear of deadly snakes is not on my "Personal Growth While In Senegal" to-do list, those were awfully depressing circumstances.
So, I thought, clearly there are problems here.
But it gets worse.
The thing I couldn't stop wondering about was how everyone universally decided to believe this farfetched madness. I don't wonder how they came up with this belief, because that query clearly has no answer. However, I still wonder why everyone decided to go along with it. How could everyone agree on something that could not be justified by anyone?
Finally, I can't take it anymore. I needed to process all of this, so I decided to go into my hut and write in my journal about everything and hopefully calm the F down. Instead, I walked into a full-on horror show when I set foot in my hut and saw something that was about 100 times scarier than the snakes I just saw- a prehistoric looking creature, about 3 feet long, probably 20 pounds, what I could only describe as either a freakishly huge lizard or a small crocodile. A few days later my friends in Tamba informed me that this monstrosity was actually called a monitor lizard, but that's actually beside the point. The point is, I walked into my room in an attempt to calm down, already mildly outraged about the current snake situation, only to find this huge, scary crocodile-looking thing come out from under my desk.
Now, I know that it might be called a monitor lizard, but this creature acted nothing like the lizard he is supposed to be. All of the lizards I have come in contact with in Senegal are great because they are horribly skittish and run as fast as they can away from any human they see. Not this guy, though. There I am, trying to ascertain the relative danger of the situation, and this freak is just staring me down. This is the only time my life that I have ever truly been paralyzed with fear. I mean, this is a problem few Americans will ever face: What do you do to avoid what you feel will be certain death? If you try to run, he will certainly be able to catch you, and then do god-knows what. For all I knew at the time, this thing probably was capable of any combination of breathing fire and engulfing me in flames, eating me, beating me to death with his tail, and probably many more unthinkable atrocities. There is no protocol for this kind of situation.
I faced the problem like a man and yelled for my older brother. I doubt if this kind of domestic exchange is common in places that are not rural Africa.
Anyway, my brother sees how freaked out I am, and given that he knows there are lots of snakes in the very near proximity of my hut, he is annoyingly hesitant to even come to my hut. Honestly, I really thought that Pulaar men were made of tougher stuff than this. He finally puts his shoes on and walks over to my hut. He asked me what was in my hut, but my speech had temporarily left me. Furthermore, even if it hadn't, I didn't know what this thing was called in English, let alone Pulaar. All I could muster in Pulaar was, "it's big, I'm scared." Finally he gets to my hut and sees it, and tells me that I shouldn't be scared.
At this point, I'm so pissed that I'm actually balling my fists in anger. I say, "I don't care if I shouldn't be scared, get it out!" My brother finally gets a stick and shoos it into my backyard and finally out of my douche area, through the same hole in my fence that the fer apparently entered through.
Now, I don't think of myself as overly prissy, but it bothered me to find this creature hanging out in my room. I was especially annoyed by the fact that my host father didn't seem to believe that the hole in my fence was big enough to bother fixing. I finally threw a temper tantrum as best as I could in Pulaar, and he compromised by shoving an old piece of wood in the hole, which of course was the most half-assed job ever.
That night, I was too scared to take a bucket bath, use the bathroom, or sleep outside. Since I don't have screen doors on my hut, I felt that the only safe decision for me was to sleep inside with both of my doors shut. It was ridiculously hot, I was paranoid, and didn't sleep at all. Furthermore, I was way too scared to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Somehow, though, I managed to not pee my pants and hold it until the morning. Well, at least I've been warned. From here on out, every casual trip to the bathroom has been turned into a scary game of snake/monitor lizard roulette.
The next day, I came to Tamba and have been here ever since. I have bought supplies to get screen doors made, and hopefully that will happen very soon after I go back tomorrow. The thing is, I'm still scared to go back. I just don't feel safe at all. I thought that spending some time here in Tamba would help me to relax and not be so stressed out about everything, but it really hasn't. The fact of the matter is that when I think about going back to my village, it makes me want to cry. I'm sure everything will be okay, but right now I just don't know.
So, that, in a nutshell, is The Story With The Snakes. Not that, you know, any of you were wondering but I felt the need to get it off my chest.
There. That’s better.
Maybe I'm just a big baby, but I honestly don't feel like I'm blowing this out of proportion. I am just going to keep telling myself that I'm tough. I can take it. Even the worst, crazy-filled, stressed-the-hell-out day. I'm lying to myself, of course, but I'm just going to abide by the fake-it-till-you-make-it philosophy.
The village I live in is probably typical of many rural villages in Senegal and the rest of Africa. The people in my village are isolated from most outside influences, and this isolation manifests itself in completely unpredictable ways. In broad terms, the isolation of rural villages here provides avenues for world views that are both specialized and universal, and it has particularly validated world views that are patently unreasonable.
For example: In my village, without exception, parents buy special necklaces called gre-gries for their babies. These necklaces are purchased from the local witch doctor and are believed to protect the babies from harm. No problem there, right? Well, one day I was told matter-of-factly by someone in my village that gre-gries are much more than good luck charms: This person claimed that if someone shot a gun at a baby wearing a gre-grie, the bullet would "bounce off." What?! Luckily, gunshot wounds don't really pose a threat to babies here, but I would hate to see that theory tested. I said something to that effect, in an attempt to shake some logic into this person, but everyone else within earshot backed this person up and thus prompted a spirited debate about the "powers" of gre-gries. It was me against the village, and logic was no argument for them. They claimed that "people they knew" had actually seen the invincible shield qualities of the gre-gries against gunshot wounds. A mind-numbing percentage of Pulaars actually believe this, and our debate went on for several minutes, finally ending in a stalemate when I realized that I had absolutely no chance in changing their minds about what is ultimately a harmless, though completely illogical, belief. At the end of the day it really just bothered me that I had to prove something this elementary. And prove it to people to whom I could never hope to convince.
That's just a glance into the absurdity of Pulaar beliefs, but what about the folks who actually take this crackpot logic as irrefutable fact? I spend a lot of time with them, and I can honestly say that most of them are decent, well-intentioned people. The other day I found out that in some cases, they're just dangerously deluded.
This particular day started out like any other day during Ramadan. For me, this meant sitting under the tree in my compound all day attempting to appease the people in my village by socializing with them. What actually happens, though, is they talk over my head while I daydream and pretend to be intrigued with whatever they are saying, which I'm pretty sure isn't fooling anyone, since they all continue to discuss daily the all the progress I am failing to make in my Pulaar.
ANYWAY, I was just sitting there, not paying attention, when my host father came up to me and told me he wanted to show me something in my next door neighbor, Mama Igne's, backyard. He is always doing this sort of thing, coming up to me with this goofy look on his face and then proceeding to show me something insignificant that he thinks I will be amazed by. Sometimes it's an empty Fanta bottle he found, sometimes it's a dirty potato someone gave him; it's always something completely random but it's kind of endearing because I can tell that he thinks that seeing these things will make me happy because he thinks they will remind me of home.
So, with this in mind, I followed him into Mama Igne's backyard and obeyed when he told me to walk towards her douche area. Much to my horror, that tricky bastard had me walk right up to what appeared to be the brand new home of a bunch of big, scary snakes. For reasons I'm not really sure of, I didn't freak out that much. I sort of just abruptly turned around and got the hell out of there. Actually, now that I think about it, I wasn't that scared because I was positive that my dad was for-sure immediately going to get his machete and kill every last one of them.
If you're like me, when you see snakes, especially snakes in Africa, you want them dead. So, when I asked what I thought to be the perfectly logical question, "Well, aren't you going to kill them?" I was shocked when he said no. I then asked every other man that was in our compound at the time the same question, and when they all said no, I realized that things were about to take a turn for the worse.
What I could never fathom, and still can't, really, is the reason why nobody would kill the snakes: Pulaar people, at least the ones in my village, believe that if they kill a snake, their cows will die. To put this in context, it is worth noting that Pulaar people are herders. Owning a cow is the only real source of wealth any of the men in my village will ever have. Therefore, cattle are often the top priority. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but I couldn't help but feel personally insulted when I found out that cattle even outrank me. That's a bitter pill to swallow.
I should have known it would be futile, but I attempted to reason with them. I mean, here's a fact of life: There are 9 different types of deadly snakes in Senegal. Yes, deadly. Especially for children and especially for people in remote villages -like the one I now call home- that are hours away from emergency medical care.
What's so disquieting to me is the fact that the only thing separating me from these snakes is a shoddy bamboo fence that is barely taller than I am and often falls down when it rains. Considering that, and the fact that getting over what I believe is a perfectly reasonable fear of deadly snakes is not on my "Personal Growth While In Senegal" to-do list, those were awfully depressing circumstances.
So, I thought, clearly there are problems here.
But it gets worse.
The thing I couldn't stop wondering about was how everyone universally decided to believe this farfetched madness. I don't wonder how they came up with this belief, because that query clearly has no answer. However, I still wonder why everyone decided to go along with it. How could everyone agree on something that could not be justified by anyone?
Finally, I can't take it anymore. I needed to process all of this, so I decided to go into my hut and write in my journal about everything and hopefully calm the F down. Instead, I walked into a full-on horror show when I set foot in my hut and saw something that was about 100 times scarier than the snakes I just saw- a prehistoric looking creature, about 3 feet long, probably 20 pounds, what I could only describe as either a freakishly huge lizard or a small crocodile. A few days later my friends in Tamba informed me that this monstrosity was actually called a monitor lizard, but that's actually beside the point. The point is, I walked into my room in an attempt to calm down, already mildly outraged about the current snake situation, only to find this huge, scary crocodile-looking thing come out from under my desk.
Now, I know that it might be called a monitor lizard, but this creature acted nothing like the lizard he is supposed to be. All of the lizards I have come in contact with in Senegal are great because they are horribly skittish and run as fast as they can away from any human they see. Not this guy, though. There I am, trying to ascertain the relative danger of the situation, and this freak is just staring me down. This is the only time my life that I have ever truly been paralyzed with fear. I mean, this is a problem few Americans will ever face: What do you do to avoid what you feel will be certain death? If you try to run, he will certainly be able to catch you, and then do god-knows what. For all I knew at the time, this thing probably was capable of any combination of breathing fire and engulfing me in flames, eating me, beating me to death with his tail, and probably many more unthinkable atrocities. There is no protocol for this kind of situation.
I faced the problem like a man and yelled for my older brother. I doubt if this kind of domestic exchange is common in places that are not rural Africa.
Anyway, my brother sees how freaked out I am, and given that he knows there are lots of snakes in the very near proximity of my hut, he is annoyingly hesitant to even come to my hut. Honestly, I really thought that Pulaar men were made of tougher stuff than this. He finally puts his shoes on and walks over to my hut. He asked me what was in my hut, but my speech had temporarily left me. Furthermore, even if it hadn't, I didn't know what this thing was called in English, let alone Pulaar. All I could muster in Pulaar was, "it's big, I'm scared." Finally he gets to my hut and sees it, and tells me that I shouldn't be scared.
At this point, I'm so pissed that I'm actually balling my fists in anger. I say, "I don't care if I shouldn't be scared, get it out!" My brother finally gets a stick and shoos it into my backyard and finally out of my douche area, through the same hole in my fence that the fer apparently entered through.
Now, I don't think of myself as overly prissy, but it bothered me to find this creature hanging out in my room. I was especially annoyed by the fact that my host father didn't seem to believe that the hole in my fence was big enough to bother fixing. I finally threw a temper tantrum as best as I could in Pulaar, and he compromised by shoving an old piece of wood in the hole, which of course was the most half-assed job ever.
That night, I was too scared to take a bucket bath, use the bathroom, or sleep outside. Since I don't have screen doors on my hut, I felt that the only safe decision for me was to sleep inside with both of my doors shut. It was ridiculously hot, I was paranoid, and didn't sleep at all. Furthermore, I was way too scared to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Somehow, though, I managed to not pee my pants and hold it until the morning. Well, at least I've been warned. From here on out, every casual trip to the bathroom has been turned into a scary game of snake/monitor lizard roulette.
The next day, I came to Tamba and have been here ever since. I have bought supplies to get screen doors made, and hopefully that will happen very soon after I go back tomorrow. The thing is, I'm still scared to go back. I just don't feel safe at all. I thought that spending some time here in Tamba would help me to relax and not be so stressed out about everything, but it really hasn't. The fact of the matter is that when I think about going back to my village, it makes me want to cry. I'm sure everything will be okay, but right now I just don't know.
So, that, in a nutshell, is The Story With The Snakes. Not that, you know, any of you were wondering but I felt the need to get it off my chest.
There. That’s better.
Maybe I'm just a big baby, but I honestly don't feel like I'm blowing this out of proportion. I am just going to keep telling myself that I'm tough. I can take it. Even the worst, crazy-filled, stressed-the-hell-out day. I'm lying to myself, of course, but I'm just going to abide by the fake-it-till-you-make-it philosophy.
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