Happy Ramadan!
Today is the first day of Ramadan for the roughly 1 billion Muslims in the world. Being raised in a Christian family Oklahoma, the "buckle of the Bible belt," my knowledge and experience of Islam is embarrassingly scant. That said, all I really know about Ramadan is what I've learned about how it applies to me and will affect my life and work here in Senegal, but I hope to learn much more about it while experiencing it this month in my village.
Ramadan is one of the 5 Pillars of Islam, meaning that every Muslim- with some exceptions- is required to fast from sunrise to sunset for the entire month. It sounds partially feasible to fast from food all day, right? That's what I thought when I heard about Ramadan until I found out that the Koran also requires Muslims to fast from water as well during Ramadan. Let's think for a minute about where the majority of the worlds Muslim population is located: The Middle East and Africa, places where the environment is harsh and life is generally not easy- aka in the desert. Never in my life before coming to Senegal have I had to be this consciously diligent about my water intake. I drink water here like it's my job. I sweat so much here that if I don't drink at least 3 liters of water a day I get a huge dehydration headache. I know I'm a pansy from America and that as a general rule Senegalese people are on average 500% more hardcore than I am, but they also have not had a lifetime of good nutrition and proper medical care, either. No matter who you are, nothing good can come from not eating or drinking water all day in the desert.
The thing that shocked me, though, is that apparently nobody cheats. Maybe my thoughts will change after experiencing Ramadan in my village, but everyone I've talked to about Ramadan in Senegal has told me that cheating just isn't an option for Muslims here. What's more is that people who are not required by the Koran to fast during Ramadan- pregnant and nursing mothers, children, the elderly, menstruating women, sick people, ect.- often still fast. The Koran lays out who exactly isn't required to fast, but it's not really a Get Out Of Jail Free card; those people are required to "make up" Ramadan when they are well, but they have to do it before the next Ramadan. The problem, then, becomes that nobody wants to make it up all by themselves. During Ramadan it is easier to fast because everyone else is fasting. When you have to fast alone, though, I would imagine that it sucks that much more because in addition to everybody else is eating food and drinking water all day long in front of you, there's also no sense of community suffering and motivation.
There are many obvious health concerns for people fasting when they are not supposed to. I have been told that they are many miscarriages after Ramadan because pregnant women often still fast. Children who decide to fast become that much more malnourished and unhealthy. Breastfeeding mom's often don't have enough nutrients to produce milk to breastfeed their babies, therefore resulting in more malnourished babies and potentially a higher infant mortality rate. You get the point. It simply isn't healthy for these people to fast, but they often do anyway, often to detrimental results.
The main problem I have with Ramadan is that many people in rural areas of Senegal don't even know anything about Islam. Because 95% people here are Muslim, it's easy to see how one would be Muslim just because that's how it's always been for their family and for their village. In the big cities in Senegal and pretty much everywhere in Northern Senegal, there are Koranic schools and Mosques everywhere. Parents often send their children to Koranic schools in these areas to learn about the Koran and how to read, speak, and pray in Arabic. I can only really talk about what I've seen in my village, but from my experience there it is pretty much safe to say that nobody there except for maybe 1 or 2 old people know anything about the Koran or Islam. They don’t go to Koranic schools and thus haven't learned how to speak Arabic, which means they don't know how to say the 5 daily prayers, which I can only assume from what I've seen and heard means that they don't do them. If they don't do or know how to say the 5 daily prayers (another one of the 5 Pillars of Islam), why do they find it necessary to put themselves through what I can only assume is the sheer torture that is Ramadan. I just don't get it. I mean, it's the same thing with lots of Catholics in the States during Lent. I've known tons of people who claim to be Catholic but never go to mass or confession and really don't practice anything their supposed religion preaches, but as soon as Lent comes, they are talking about what they're giving up for Lent. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now.
I could very easily go off on a tangent about people blindly following religion and never thinking for themselves, but I will save that joy for another day. I just wanted to write a blog before Ramadan to let you all know what's going on in my life this next month.
As for me, I plan to attempt to fast for a few days or maybe even a week, depending on how well my body holds up. I will not, however, fast from water; that's just crazy. The main reason I want to attempt to fast is because I've been told by other volunteers their fasting really helped them get close to their host families and villages, not to mention giving them some street cred in their village. I definitely want to get closer to my family and my village, and if fasting for a couple days during Ramadan will help me do that, I'm all for it. Also, when in my life will I ever get to experience Ramadan in Senegal again? A big reason for my joining the Peace Corps was to gain perspective of how people live here, and there's no better way to get that perspective than from doing the things they do.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Senegalese Circus and Other Photos
One night during IST, I left the training center and went to my homestay in Thies. When I turned down my street, though, there were hundreds of people in the street and it looked like something bad was about to go down. The children were screaming "TOUBAB!"-the equivalent of "whitey"- at me much more than usual and they seemed really riled up. I had to walk my bike because there were so many people in the street. En route to my house, I saw this seemingly crazy guy with all kinds of trippy face paint and a really weird costume. I also heard music and drums, but it just sounded like Senegalese music that people play every day.
When I finally got home, I asked my family what was going on, but I didn't understand what they told me. One of my host sisters decided to show me what was going on, so she took me to this area that was blocked off by a huge tarp. This was where the madness was occurring. There were hundreds of people in this blocked off part of the street watching the crazily painted and costumed men dance and just be crazy. At some point, I got yelled at and told to leave because apparently it cost money to get in. Anyway, so I got money and paid them and then went back in.
The guys that were dancing were just plain scary. There were all kinds of crying children in the crowd, and I was pretty frightened myself. The painted men kept coming over my way with an apparent agenda of "let's scare the whitey." I tried to just act unaffected and tough, but I still had no idea what any of this was all about. The guy that was singing sounded like he was singing the songs that the mosque plays on it's speakers all the time. I thought that it was maybe a celebration for a particular Muslim brotherhood, (there are lots here, with people very proud of their Iman and corresponding brotherhood) but my family said it wasn't about religion and just kept asking me if I was scared. I thought to myself, "should I be?" Since I had no idea what was going on and my family couldn't explain the madness to me in a way that I understood, I was kind of freaked out. A little while after it got dark, the singing and dancing ended and everyone went home safe and sound. Random.
The next day at the training center, I showed one of my Senegalese friends the pictures and asked what the madness I had just experienced was all about. Culture? Religion? Nope. She pretty much told me that it was the travelling Senegalese circus. There is a cultural element to it, though. I guess in the past, when there were still lions in Senegal, they would bite humans and then the humans would go crazy- probably from rabies- and take kids from their parents and then make the parents pay to get them back. Anyway, that process continued and evolved into what is now the Senegalese circus. The preformers used to "steal" kids from their parents during the circus, but I guess about 20 years ago in one of the performances a kid actually got killed somehow. Anyway, now it's mellowed out slightly. The pictures are pretty cool, though.
Here's the link to the album with these pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/IST
And here's a link to some videos I took:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3D_aw_wztFo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UP2uLL2XLU&feature=related
I also posted new photos in the Fara album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/Fara
and Tamba House album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/TambaRegionaHouseFun
Enjoy!
When I finally got home, I asked my family what was going on, but I didn't understand what they told me. One of my host sisters decided to show me what was going on, so she took me to this area that was blocked off by a huge tarp. This was where the madness was occurring. There were hundreds of people in this blocked off part of the street watching the crazily painted and costumed men dance and just be crazy. At some point, I got yelled at and told to leave because apparently it cost money to get in. Anyway, so I got money and paid them and then went back in.
The guys that were dancing were just plain scary. There were all kinds of crying children in the crowd, and I was pretty frightened myself. The painted men kept coming over my way with an apparent agenda of "let's scare the whitey." I tried to just act unaffected and tough, but I still had no idea what any of this was all about. The guy that was singing sounded like he was singing the songs that the mosque plays on it's speakers all the time. I thought that it was maybe a celebration for a particular Muslim brotherhood, (there are lots here, with people very proud of their Iman and corresponding brotherhood) but my family said it wasn't about religion and just kept asking me if I was scared. I thought to myself, "should I be?" Since I had no idea what was going on and my family couldn't explain the madness to me in a way that I understood, I was kind of freaked out. A little while after it got dark, the singing and dancing ended and everyone went home safe and sound. Random.
The next day at the training center, I showed one of my Senegalese friends the pictures and asked what the madness I had just experienced was all about. Culture? Religion? Nope. She pretty much told me that it was the travelling Senegalese circus. There is a cultural element to it, though. I guess in the past, when there were still lions in Senegal, they would bite humans and then the humans would go crazy- probably from rabies- and take kids from their parents and then make the parents pay to get them back. Anyway, that process continued and evolved into what is now the Senegalese circus. The preformers used to "steal" kids from their parents during the circus, but I guess about 20 years ago in one of the performances a kid actually got killed somehow. Anyway, now it's mellowed out slightly. The pictures are pretty cool, though.
Here's the link to the album with these pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/IST
And here's a link to some videos I took:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3D_aw_wztFo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UP2uLL2XLU&feature=related
I also posted new photos in the Fara album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/Fara
and Tamba House album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/AmberGPatterson/TambaRegionaHouseFun
Enjoy!
Thoughts On Work
Every time my mom calls me, she always asks, "have you thought about what you're going to do for your big project?" To which I tell her that I'm not going to have just one big project, but rather many different projects during my next 2 years here. Oh, and then I also tell her that I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to and that the mere thought of beginning health work in my village overwhelms me in every possible way.
Up until this point, I haven't been expected to begin any work in my village. The first 3 months at site (my village) were just supposed to be for getting to know the community and improving my Pulaar. This past month was In Service Training (IST) in Thies. IST was great and I feel like I learned a lot of important things that will hopefully be useful to my village during my service. The scary thing, though, is that I am going back to my village in a couple days and will finally be expected to actually implement those things. I mean, where do I even begin? Furthermore, I still can only communicate with the people in my village at the toddler level, at best. How am I supposed to be holding health classes and conveying useful information? I know that my language skills are improving every day and that I can't really do that much formal work until I am better at communicating in Pulaar, but I want to be ready now.
The first 3 months at site, I didn't feel guilty about just concentrating on learning Pulaar and not doing any work, but now, when I return to my village and am expected to begin working but can't because my Pulaar isn't good enough yet, I feel like a slacker. Good news for me, though; the month of September is Ramadan and since my village (along with 95% of Senegal) is Muslim, they will be not eating or drinking water from sunrise to sunset and will pretty much be tired all the time and not interested in doing anything in addition to their daily work. From what I've heard from volunteers that were here last year for Ramadan, I'm pretty much off the hook as far as health work goes during Ramadan, which will be ideal for me. I plan to spend Ramadan really working on my Pulaar and conducting an informal survey of the 450+ people in my village to get a better idea of their wants and needs. I plan to ask each family about how many children they have, their ages, how many children of theirs have died, which of their children are in school, if the family has a mosquito net, and if they have a proper latrine. These questions are all related to project ideas I have.
For example, I have been told that the infant mortality rate in my village is much higher than the Senegal average. There are many problems that stem from or contribute to infant and child mortality. In most cases, infant mortality in Senegal is due to dehydration from diarrhea. Dehydration is also because mothers here don't usually exclusively breastfeed their babies because they don't know that breast milk is 90% water. Because children die in large numbers, households tend to overcompensate and have more children, often leading to very large families. Too poor to invest in the education of all of their children, families can only educate one child, usually the eldest son.
With these issues in mind, if I can convince new moms to exclusive breastfeed their babies and encourage ways to better nourish their children, it makes sense that the infant/child mortality rate will go down. If mortality rates go down, it follows that women will stop overcompensating and having more children than they can adequately support. Finally, with smaller families, girls can begin to have more of an opportunity to go to school instead of getting married when they're 15. I know that it will take many years for all of this to happen, but if the only thing I successfully accomplish here is getting new moms to stop giving their babies water, exclusively breastfeed, and continue good child nutrition, I will feel successful. The rural areas of Senegal are not going to develop and/or change overnight, but in time, with the proper knowledge, people will stop dying unnecessarily and start living longer, more prosperous lives. That's the goal, at least. I just want to do whatever I can to help be a part of that process.
Up until this point, I haven't been expected to begin any work in my village. The first 3 months at site (my village) were just supposed to be for getting to know the community and improving my Pulaar. This past month was In Service Training (IST) in Thies. IST was great and I feel like I learned a lot of important things that will hopefully be useful to my village during my service. The scary thing, though, is that I am going back to my village in a couple days and will finally be expected to actually implement those things. I mean, where do I even begin? Furthermore, I still can only communicate with the people in my village at the toddler level, at best. How am I supposed to be holding health classes and conveying useful information? I know that my language skills are improving every day and that I can't really do that much formal work until I am better at communicating in Pulaar, but I want to be ready now.
The first 3 months at site, I didn't feel guilty about just concentrating on learning Pulaar and not doing any work, but now, when I return to my village and am expected to begin working but can't because my Pulaar isn't good enough yet, I feel like a slacker. Good news for me, though; the month of September is Ramadan and since my village (along with 95% of Senegal) is Muslim, they will be not eating or drinking water from sunrise to sunset and will pretty much be tired all the time and not interested in doing anything in addition to their daily work. From what I've heard from volunteers that were here last year for Ramadan, I'm pretty much off the hook as far as health work goes during Ramadan, which will be ideal for me. I plan to spend Ramadan really working on my Pulaar and conducting an informal survey of the 450+ people in my village to get a better idea of their wants and needs. I plan to ask each family about how many children they have, their ages, how many children of theirs have died, which of their children are in school, if the family has a mosquito net, and if they have a proper latrine. These questions are all related to project ideas I have.
For example, I have been told that the infant mortality rate in my village is much higher than the Senegal average. There are many problems that stem from or contribute to infant and child mortality. In most cases, infant mortality in Senegal is due to dehydration from diarrhea. Dehydration is also because mothers here don't usually exclusively breastfeed their babies because they don't know that breast milk is 90% water. Because children die in large numbers, households tend to overcompensate and have more children, often leading to very large families. Too poor to invest in the education of all of their children, families can only educate one child, usually the eldest son.
With these issues in mind, if I can convince new moms to exclusive breastfeed their babies and encourage ways to better nourish their children, it makes sense that the infant/child mortality rate will go down. If mortality rates go down, it follows that women will stop overcompensating and having more children than they can adequately support. Finally, with smaller families, girls can begin to have more of an opportunity to go to school instead of getting married when they're 15. I know that it will take many years for all of this to happen, but if the only thing I successfully accomplish here is getting new moms to stop giving their babies water, exclusively breastfeed, and continue good child nutrition, I will feel successful. The rural areas of Senegal are not going to develop and/or change overnight, but in time, with the proper knowledge, people will stop dying unnecessarily and start living longer, more prosperous lives. That's the goal, at least. I just want to do whatever I can to help be a part of that process.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Things That Seem Still Are Still Changing
Time to talk about my village and new home for the next two years. Anyone excited? I know I am.
Here’s some stats of my village:
Around 450 people
No electricity
No running water
60K to nearest internet
6K from main road
12K to electricity
Shady cell phone reception within village
I finally was “installed” into my village on May 19th. Installation is the Peace Corps term for getting dropped of in your village by someone from the Peace Corps admin. My installation was pretty standard, I think, except that I was so nervous/sick that I threw up twice in the car ride from Tamba to my site (roughly 60K). All throughout PST I kept having this vivid mental image of me just standing in the middle of nowhere in some random Senegalese village and just waving by myself as the Peace Corps car drove off into the distance and left me all alone to die, which was pretty much what happened, of course with the exception of me dying. It was pretty scary, and I will admit that I choked up when the car was driving away, but I pulled myself together and everything ended up being ok.
It's really hard to put into words what I feel/think about my village so far. Sometimes I struggle with just being there, but if I take it moment to moment, the days take care of themselves. During the first three months at site, we have been told to concentrate on integrating with the community and learning our local languages, and so that's pretty much all I've been doing- that and reading approximately a book a day, but who's counting, really? During In Service Training (IST) in August we will (hopefully) learn how to actually serve as efficient rural health volunteers. That said, here's what a typical day is like for me:
The sun and heat- combined with the sounds of women pounding millet, morning greetings and women gossiping as they walk to the well- wake me up.
I put away my mosquito net and outside bed, make instant coffee, maybe attempt to do some yoga, get dressed and psyche myself up to open the door to my hut and face the day.
Greet everyone in my compound (takes longer than you would think), and have breakfast (couscous and water sauce, everyday, without fail).
Go to the well with my host mom, attempt to help pull water, end up being told "a wawaaa" meaning "you can't/ aren't able to," hang out with the women at the well for a little while, get help putting my 20 liter bucket on my head and walk back to my hut, usually while being told "a wawaa" the whole way.
Hang out and attempt to be social, meaning at the very least sitting outside of my hut in case my family or any passerby's want to talk to me, and on good days meaning walking around to other compounds and greeting people, drinking tea, ect.
Get summoned for lunch by a small child who is to afraid of me to say anything other than "my mom called you." I always ask why, but the kid just stands there and looks like he/she (depending on whose mom is summoning me on that particular day) is about to cry and run away. "For lunch?" I ask, "yes or no?" I never get an answer, but I always am amused by just how scared some of these kids are of me, so I play the game everyday.
Walk to usually one of three compounds in my village for lunch, where I am told to "naam fof!" or "eat all!" and am harassed to no end when, to their daily surprise, I don't. Lunch, by the way, is white rice and peanut sauce. Every. Single. Day. If you look at my photo album entitled "Fara" there's a picture of this dish. You might mistake for mud or poo on first glance, but look again: that's my lunch.
After-lunch-sweat and nap.
Read, hang out, drink tea, maybe help pound millet with the women, maybe study Pulaar.
Evening trip to the well with my mom, repeat of the "a wawaa's."
Walk to place with reception and call Michael =)
Bucket bath
Lay down in front of my hut and fall asleep until dinner (couscous and water sauce again)
Listen to my iPod for no longer than 20 minutes (no electricity means I have to ration my happiness, aka my cell phone and iPod)
Sleep!
So there you have it: my typical day. It doesn't sound like much, but let me tell you I go to bed every night exhausted. It's hard right now because I still am not that great with Pulaar and so every moment of the day often is a struggle. I feel that I am constantly being reminded of the fact that I'm an outsider and am not good at their language. But I don't want to be an outsider. I don't want to have to psyche myself up every morning just to open the door to my hut. I'm just biding my time right now, attempting to learn Pulaar, and just waiting until the day where I feel comfortable in my village and can finally call it home. Bottom line, everything is going to be ok. This whole "integration" thing is a challenge I can overcome. I was told to expect to feel embarrassed, foolish, and sometimes inadequate. Because it’s all part of the experience. These trying times are what we eloquently call “adjustment”. They’re difficult, natural, and useful. I'm learning how to respond to novel situations and am learning a heck of a lot about myself in the process. And that, my friends, is progress.
I promise to write more soon about my village and health-related activities I have been doing (I promise, I’ve done productive things!) soon, but I hope that this post at least can suficie to catch you all up on what my day-to-day life has been like for the past 2 months. Thanks for reading and keep in touch, please!!
Here’s some stats of my village:
Around 450 people
No electricity
No running water
60K to nearest internet
6K from main road
12K to electricity
Shady cell phone reception within village
I finally was “installed” into my village on May 19th. Installation is the Peace Corps term for getting dropped of in your village by someone from the Peace Corps admin. My installation was pretty standard, I think, except that I was so nervous/sick that I threw up twice in the car ride from Tamba to my site (roughly 60K). All throughout PST I kept having this vivid mental image of me just standing in the middle of nowhere in some random Senegalese village and just waving by myself as the Peace Corps car drove off into the distance and left me all alone to die, which was pretty much what happened, of course with the exception of me dying. It was pretty scary, and I will admit that I choked up when the car was driving away, but I pulled myself together and everything ended up being ok.
It's really hard to put into words what I feel/think about my village so far. Sometimes I struggle with just being there, but if I take it moment to moment, the days take care of themselves. During the first three months at site, we have been told to concentrate on integrating with the community and learning our local languages, and so that's pretty much all I've been doing- that and reading approximately a book a day, but who's counting, really? During In Service Training (IST) in August we will (hopefully) learn how to actually serve as efficient rural health volunteers. That said, here's what a typical day is like for me:
The sun and heat- combined with the sounds of women pounding millet, morning greetings and women gossiping as they walk to the well- wake me up.
I put away my mosquito net and outside bed, make instant coffee, maybe attempt to do some yoga, get dressed and psyche myself up to open the door to my hut and face the day.
Greet everyone in my compound (takes longer than you would think), and have breakfast (couscous and water sauce, everyday, without fail).
Go to the well with my host mom, attempt to help pull water, end up being told "a wawaaa" meaning "you can't/ aren't able to," hang out with the women at the well for a little while, get help putting my 20 liter bucket on my head and walk back to my hut, usually while being told "a wawaa" the whole way.
Hang out and attempt to be social, meaning at the very least sitting outside of my hut in case my family or any passerby's want to talk to me, and on good days meaning walking around to other compounds and greeting people, drinking tea, ect.
Get summoned for lunch by a small child who is to afraid of me to say anything other than "my mom called you." I always ask why, but the kid just stands there and looks like he/she (depending on whose mom is summoning me on that particular day) is about to cry and run away. "For lunch?" I ask, "yes or no?" I never get an answer, but I always am amused by just how scared some of these kids are of me, so I play the game everyday.
Walk to usually one of three compounds in my village for lunch, where I am told to "naam fof!" or "eat all!" and am harassed to no end when, to their daily surprise, I don't. Lunch, by the way, is white rice and peanut sauce. Every. Single. Day. If you look at my photo album entitled "Fara" there's a picture of this dish. You might mistake for mud or poo on first glance, but look again: that's my lunch.
After-lunch-sweat and nap.
Read, hang out, drink tea, maybe help pound millet with the women, maybe study Pulaar.
Evening trip to the well with my mom, repeat of the "a wawaa's."
Walk to place with reception and call Michael =)
Bucket bath
Lay down in front of my hut and fall asleep until dinner (couscous and water sauce again)
Listen to my iPod for no longer than 20 minutes (no electricity means I have to ration my happiness, aka my cell phone and iPod)
Sleep!
So there you have it: my typical day. It doesn't sound like much, but let me tell you I go to bed every night exhausted. It's hard right now because I still am not that great with Pulaar and so every moment of the day often is a struggle. I feel that I am constantly being reminded of the fact that I'm an outsider and am not good at their language. But I don't want to be an outsider. I don't want to have to psyche myself up every morning just to open the door to my hut. I'm just biding my time right now, attempting to learn Pulaar, and just waiting until the day where I feel comfortable in my village and can finally call it home. Bottom line, everything is going to be ok. This whole "integration" thing is a challenge I can overcome. I was told to expect to feel embarrassed, foolish, and sometimes inadequate. Because it’s all part of the experience. These trying times are what we eloquently call “adjustment”. They’re difficult, natural, and useful. I'm learning how to respond to novel situations and am learning a heck of a lot about myself in the process. And that, my friends, is progress.
I promise to write more soon about my village and health-related activities I have been doing (I promise, I’ve done productive things!) soon, but I hope that this post at least can suficie to catch you all up on what my day-to-day life has been like for the past 2 months. Thanks for reading and keep in touch, please!!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Long overdue fist post
11 may
Hiyo friends and family in America! Yes, this is Amber, and yes, I somehow have managed to survive almost 2 months in Senegal almost completely unscathed. Are you all proud? I certainly hope so because I am not near hardcore enough for this country in any way, shape, or form, but am slowly but surely morphing into a quasi-hardcore PCT (Peace Corps Trainee).
I realize that this first blog post is a little bit late, but I just haven't had that much time and have not really been sold on this whole "blogging" thing. Anyway, the main reasons I am just now attempting to write and post my first blog entry are:
1. I'm really not sure if anyone will want to read anything I have to write. Even back in the good ole days when I could depend on those then unappreciated language parts of my brain to speak and write intelligently, I was never that great of a writer, so it’s pretty comical that now that I for some reason I still have not realized I decided it would be a good idea to attempt to write a witty, inspiring, and insightful blog (shaaaaa right), which leads me to reason #2:
2. I really don’t know why anyone would ever want to take time to read about the incessant jumbled mess of thoughts perpetually battling for attention and importance in my mind. I obsessively over-analyze everything and have a killer case of low self-confidence, which combined with my obscene indecisiveness can only lead to a cluster of thoughts that are probably a lot better off just staying inside my head, rather than being posted for all the world to see, and by whole world I mean hopefully at least 5 people that haven’t forgotten me back home and think I'm cool enough for them to want to keep up with what’s going on with me while I'm in BFE Tambacounda desert Senegal for the next 2 years.
3. I miss everyone of you all from back home and hate that communication is so unreliable here and I just feel like I’m losing touch with stupid stuff that I loved like work and boy gossip, you know? Just know that any seemingly stupid response here, face book wall post /message, or random e-mail never ceases to bring an incredible amount of joy and encouragement into my day and I really do appreciate knowing that there are people in this world who understand me and even miss me.
4. I have to say it. I’m more than slightly skeptical about this whole blogging trend and so naturally am especially wary of both the seemingly self-important people who write them and the creepers that read them. I really just hate the fact that people that blog appear to be trying way to hard to fashion portraits of themselves as curious, reflective, wide-ranging individuals. I would just rather spend my time reflecting and ranging wide.
For all of these reasons, I have only made a few feeble attempts over the past 8 weeks to even type out anything I thought anyone would be interested in reading but then just got annoyed with myself and stopped.
That, said, I’m going to attempt to hit the high notes of my past 8 weeks here in a somewhat cohesive manner, but I don’t really think in a cohesive manner anymore so I'm going to apologize in advance for my haphazardness.
I was going to write some about these past 8 weeks of training, but so much happened and I went through so much personally that I don't even know where to begin. I think I can best write about what's going on with me now.
On Friday we officially swore-in in Dakar and are now PCV's (Peace Corps Volunteers) instead of PCT's (Peace Corps Trainees), and I, for one, couldn't have been happier. I am so ready to be done with the rigid structure of PST and finally be in my permanent village and actually doing development work. I was supposed to be heading to Tambacounda with two other people whose sites are in the region on Saturday to hang out at the regional house for a couple of days and then be officially "installed" in my village on Tuesday, but I have to stay in Thies for another week of language training. Why? We all had language placement interviews last week and were required to test at least "intermediate low" in whatever local language we have been learning. I apparently only tested "beginner high" in Pulaar and so myself and 2 other volunteers have to stay here another week and take more language classes.
By the way, Pulaar is freaking hard, in case you were wondering. There were 3 of us in my Pulaar class, and out of the 3 only one person got intermediate low, if that says anything.
French is the official language in Senegal and hence the language of the formal education system. There are also 22 national languages. Pulaar du Nord, the language I have been learning, is spoken by about 25% percent of Senegalese people, according to Lonely Planet. It's a beautiful language, but it by no means comes easy to me like learning Spanish did. For example, the English language has 2 articles: "the" and "a." In Pulaar, there are 24. Yes, 24 different articles. There are articles for liquids, quantities, different types of animals, ect., and we won't even be learning any of these until IST (In Service Training in August). Awesome. I really feel like going on a rant about Pulaar right now and the many ways it's a linguistic nightmare, but I think it's best to not let all of my frustrations out here, right? The main thing I have learned throughout all of my language learning difficulties is that not everything comes easy to me, Pulaar being one of those things. In a frustrating way my daily battles with my attempts to learn Pulaar are actually humbling and daily lessons in perseverance.
I know I haven't really caught you all up on much, but I hope that you all enjoy the pictures I have posted and I promise to write more soon. Hope all of you all are doing well! I miss and love you all!
Hiyo friends and family in America! Yes, this is Amber, and yes, I somehow have managed to survive almost 2 months in Senegal almost completely unscathed. Are you all proud? I certainly hope so because I am not near hardcore enough for this country in any way, shape, or form, but am slowly but surely morphing into a quasi-hardcore PCT (Peace Corps Trainee).
I realize that this first blog post is a little bit late, but I just haven't had that much time and have not really been sold on this whole "blogging" thing. Anyway, the main reasons I am just now attempting to write and post my first blog entry are:
1. I'm really not sure if anyone will want to read anything I have to write. Even back in the good ole days when I could depend on those then unappreciated language parts of my brain to speak and write intelligently, I was never that great of a writer, so it’s pretty comical that now that I for some reason I still have not realized I decided it would be a good idea to attempt to write a witty, inspiring, and insightful blog (shaaaaa right), which leads me to reason #2:
2. I really don’t know why anyone would ever want to take time to read about the incessant jumbled mess of thoughts perpetually battling for attention and importance in my mind. I obsessively over-analyze everything and have a killer case of low self-confidence, which combined with my obscene indecisiveness can only lead to a cluster of thoughts that are probably a lot better off just staying inside my head, rather than being posted for all the world to see, and by whole world I mean hopefully at least 5 people that haven’t forgotten me back home and think I'm cool enough for them to want to keep up with what’s going on with me while I'm in BFE Tambacounda desert Senegal for the next 2 years.
3. I miss everyone of you all from back home and hate that communication is so unreliable here and I just feel like I’m losing touch with stupid stuff that I loved like work and boy gossip, you know? Just know that any seemingly stupid response here, face book wall post /message, or random e-mail never ceases to bring an incredible amount of joy and encouragement into my day and I really do appreciate knowing that there are people in this world who understand me and even miss me.
4. I have to say it. I’m more than slightly skeptical about this whole blogging trend and so naturally am especially wary of both the seemingly self-important people who write them and the creepers that read them. I really just hate the fact that people that blog appear to be trying way to hard to fashion portraits of themselves as curious, reflective, wide-ranging individuals. I would just rather spend my time reflecting and ranging wide.
For all of these reasons, I have only made a few feeble attempts over the past 8 weeks to even type out anything I thought anyone would be interested in reading but then just got annoyed with myself and stopped.
That, said, I’m going to attempt to hit the high notes of my past 8 weeks here in a somewhat cohesive manner, but I don’t really think in a cohesive manner anymore so I'm going to apologize in advance for my haphazardness.
I was going to write some about these past 8 weeks of training, but so much happened and I went through so much personally that I don't even know where to begin. I think I can best write about what's going on with me now.
On Friday we officially swore-in in Dakar and are now PCV's (Peace Corps Volunteers) instead of PCT's (Peace Corps Trainees), and I, for one, couldn't have been happier. I am so ready to be done with the rigid structure of PST and finally be in my permanent village and actually doing development work. I was supposed to be heading to Tambacounda with two other people whose sites are in the region on Saturday to hang out at the regional house for a couple of days and then be officially "installed" in my village on Tuesday, but I have to stay in Thies for another week of language training. Why? We all had language placement interviews last week and were required to test at least "intermediate low" in whatever local language we have been learning. I apparently only tested "beginner high" in Pulaar and so myself and 2 other volunteers have to stay here another week and take more language classes.
By the way, Pulaar is freaking hard, in case you were wondering. There were 3 of us in my Pulaar class, and out of the 3 only one person got intermediate low, if that says anything.
French is the official language in Senegal and hence the language of the formal education system. There are also 22 national languages. Pulaar du Nord, the language I have been learning, is spoken by about 25% percent of Senegalese people, according to Lonely Planet. It's a beautiful language, but it by no means comes easy to me like learning Spanish did. For example, the English language has 2 articles: "the" and "a." In Pulaar, there are 24. Yes, 24 different articles. There are articles for liquids, quantities, different types of animals, ect., and we won't even be learning any of these until IST (In Service Training in August). Awesome. I really feel like going on a rant about Pulaar right now and the many ways it's a linguistic nightmare, but I think it's best to not let all of my frustrations out here, right? The main thing I have learned throughout all of my language learning difficulties is that not everything comes easy to me, Pulaar being one of those things. In a frustrating way my daily battles with my attempts to learn Pulaar are actually humbling and daily lessons in perseverance.
I know I haven't really caught you all up on much, but I hope that you all enjoy the pictures I have posted and I promise to write more soon. Hope all of you all are doing well! I miss and love you all!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
