Here's an interesting article that came in my weekly Google Alert for Peace Corps: Peace Corps vs Posh Corps. It's written by a current Botswana PCV who is also/has been a writer for the Huffington Post. I've been reading his entries and it's always interesting to hear what someone else's PC experience is, and how they relate that to the greater public (Peace Corps' famous Third Goal).

I thought it would be interesting to take the questions posed about Botswana in terms of my own PC service, especially since I had a very "stereotypical" Peace Corps experience (and wouldn't have wanted it any other way!).

What did the application process require for you?

I started my online application in November 2006, paused it for a few months while I freaked out about the 2 year commitment and finally submitted it on April 8, 2007. A month later, I had my interview in Virginia, was nominated (though never told when, where, or what sector) and spent the entire summer going through the obnoxiously important medical and dental clearance, while working 2 jobs and experiencing the young adult life in DC. I was cleared in late September (after getting 2 wisdom teeth removed), invited to Morocco in November (declined), re-invited to Senegal in early December, and started Staging on March 10, 2008. All in all, 11 months from submission to plane ticket!

What did you do during your pre-service training?Our PST was an 8.5 week exhausting and disastrous experience as PCSenegal transferred between two different training styles, from Center-based to village-based and my Stage (group) was stuck in the middle of the two. The main goal of PST is to get Trainees/new PCVs capable of functioning in terms of language, safety, cross culture, and medical needs, plus some technical skills as possible. From 8am-5:30 M-F and Saturday 8am-12:45pm we were in class, mostly language so it was myself, Chris, and our language trainer Fatou running Serere drills all day. Med taught us how to take care of ourselves when we got sick and we also received some intro health education training for our sights.

How was the housing situation? Back of my hut when I moved out During PST, I lived in a room in a house with my small host family. For the two years of my Service, I lived in a 9 by 12ft clay and cement hut with a grass roof in a compound with 50+ people. No electricity, no running water. My headlamp, mosquito net, and private douche (pit latrine) were some of the best things about my hut (next to the bright colors and sunlight). That and the 4 lucaena trees I planted when I moved and that quickly grew to be 15+ feet each (ok, one died as I was COSing). My hut was my space and while I would occasionally invite the kids in to help with mosquito lotion or to color, or others to help with animal infestations and other such things, it was mostly a private space which I desperately needed with so many people running around our compound. My family was awesome and took care of all of my meals. Breakfast was usually millet and milk in my room, lunch was rice with peanut butter sauce with each side of the family, and dinner was millet with spicy fish water or leaf sauce with the family.

What were the food options for you? Oops, well I guess I already answered this, but I'll elaborate. I mostly ate with my family. Many PCVs do breakfast on their own, whether it be bean sandwiches down the street or in the road town, or oatmeal in their huts, my family had almost year-round fresh from the cow amazing milk which I LOVED, so I didn't develop my own breakfast habit. Lunch was mostly rice with peanut butter sauce, but occasionally we would have a delicious onion sauce called Yassa or the national plate, Thieb u jen (rice and fish, a meal that was very rare in my village because of the rice and vegetables necessary to cook the dish). Dinner was millet couscous (resembling wet sand) with some type of sauce, beit spicy fish water, leaf sauce, or a peanut butter bean sauce. There wasn't much variety but being in the Delta we had more regular access to fish (even if it was tiny and not always that great) than people farther inland, so the protein was greatly appreciated! I mostly loved eating with my family but would occasionally make an egg and veggie sandwich or cook some home grown zucchini to give myself a break and consume much-needed vitamins. In Kaolack, I mostly subsisted on bean sandwiches for breakfast and fresh yogurt with bananas for lunch and dinner, with an occasional Senegalese-style hamburger. My mouth is salivating just thinking about these meals, yum!

What did you do for transportation?Around my village or to Djilor: feet all of the way! I was known in the area as "fast walking Khady" because I could regularly walk faster than most people (except the teenage boys hurrying to Djilor so they wouldn't be late for 8am class...). The path from Djilor to my village was deep sand 8 months of the year and flooded the rest of the time so bikes never made sense. The vehicle of choice along the path was a donkey or horse cart called a sharet (which many will remember I took a terrible fall from one during my first 10 days in the village). To my weekly market town and old post office, or to Kaolack, we would take an ancient overloaded bus type thing called a Diagan Ndiaye (or Alhum or mini cars, depending who you ask).

Did you get sick?

Yes, many a times and many strange things that weren’t necessarily illnesses but infections, parasites, or other things that just wanted to attack my body for all it was worth. The PC Med Staff were pretty responsive and we were given medical kits with all sorts of meds and antibiotics for various types of illnesses, infections, and GI issues, so I was never that worried, though laying on my floor with a fever and serious diarrhea was always a terrible feeling, especially on major religious holidays in the vil.

How was the social life?So this question in the article seems to focus mostly on dating and relationships...A fair amount of PCVs date locals and there's typically at least one Senegal PCV in each Stage who marries a Senegalese by the end of her service (because let's be honest, they are almost all female PCVs who locals). Peace Corps social life is full of scheduled holiday parties, Regional House social time, road town hangout (especially at Farba's after picking up mail in Djilor), or spending time socializing with the people in your community. In my opinion, the social time with the people in my village was the most important and memorable, followed by hanging out with nearby fellow PCVs (but in a way where you are also hanging out with locals, so in the middle of your compound, at a school fete, etc). The Sereres love to sing, dance, wrestle, and just generally celebrate life, so there was a plethora of social things to do, just perhaps not quite as "exciting" as college or big city social life, but whatever!

As for dating, check this out. Brand new, perfect timing! (Well, it was brand new when i first started this post a month and a half ago)

What did you do to communicate with people at home and were there any modern types of entertainment?

Mostly through email though my parents would call about once a week or once every other week via skype to my cell and a handful of friends figured out Skype enough when I was in a city with internet. Gchat was awesome and I especially appreciated friends and family who sent care packages.

The HuffPost article talks about movies and movie theaters as modern types of entertainment. Well, until after I COSed in May 2010, Senegal didn't even have a movie theater! Ok, they used to in the 1990's in a few cities and then they fell into disrepair (the one in Thies in part due to Wade and politics). In July 2010, Wade opened a Western style shopping mall complete with a bowling alley and movie theater that was showing Harry Potter the last weekend I was in country before flying back to America a few weeks ago. There's radio and TV that work to varying qualities, and in cities students have access to internet and Facebook

How did you report the work you were doing?We had things known as quarterly reports which were basically word documents we filled out about our work over a 3 month period and emailed to our supervisors. As I was leaving, PC Worldwide was implementing digital reports but had some bugs. I loved turning in my QRs because my supervisor would then give encouraging feedback and comment on my projects, and really I just liked knowing that someone knew what I was up to in my vil.

I must admit, if you read the original article, I feel like my service had more in common with the Bostwana RPCV from the 1960s than the current one, ha! This post wasn't quite as interesting and insightful as I had originally envisioned, but almost 2 months later, it's time to finally post it.

Here's also a reality check on Why NOT to Join the Peace Corps

And a little side comment, stolen from a friend's facebook:

A man falls down a well and calls for help. A passing missionary hears his pleas and drops a Bible down the well. Next an aid worker stops and drops down some money. A Peace Corps Volunteer hears the man screaming, drops down a bag, then leaps into the well. “What are you doing?” asks the startled man at the bottom of the well. “I’ve come to live with you,” the PCV replies.

aka Green Thursday, the day things changed in Senegal.

Things are calm and the curfew has been lifted, but obviously there are still tensions as the country waits for the President and the government to make the next step. Peace Corps and the US Embassy continue to do a great job keeping us safe and informed on what is going on.

or Exercise à la Française et à la Sénégalaise

This is a blog post I first had the idea for while in my early 1990s era step aerobic class in Semur (and started the post in January...) and is now super long and perhaps not as comical as it would have been were I still in France, but alas. Another long-awaited blog post finally finished up!

Zumba!

So anyone who knows anything about what I did during the Summer of 2010 knows that it basically revolved around 4 things: attending weddings (and wedding events), working at a coffeeshop, going to the gym, and wishing I was still in Senegal. The daydreaming about Senegal was constant, but the wedding things were mostly confined to the weekends, leaving 5+ days a week to do nothing except sling lattes and go to the gym. I became rather obsessed (with both things), doing what I could to work my café hours around my favorite classes at the gym and working my gym schedule around my café hours. My days off from the coffee shop were somewhat confused and many times found myself going to the gym morning AND evening. [Not to mention that days off were also kind of frustrating because I needed to earn money for all of the wedding events, but my gym pass was already paid off, so il faut profiter quoi!]

My favorite activities at the gym quickly became the various group fitness classes Healthbridge offers, especially Zumba, Body Flow, Body Jam, yoga, and Sh'Bam! On the unfortunate days when my gym and work schedules did not match up, I would do cardio on machines and some lifting/toning. I really wanted to try Body Pump but was always too intimidated by the sign-up list and intense middle aged women who would rush into the studio at the end of a Body Jam dance class to get an ideal spot before everyone else flooded in (20min before the class would start). Granted, I also had my own routine and "preferred spot" for Zumba and the other dance classes (in front of the mirror, slightly to the left of the instructor, but with plenty of space to move). I guess we all have our routines...

Suffice to say, I got my money out of my 4 month gym membership. And then I went to France, to a teeny tiny little town without a modern athletic facility or regular aerobic dance classes, not to mention a very modest and fixed budget and no car. What to do?

The answer came in the form of a brochure for the Maison Pour Tous (a quasi-rec center) and my new expensive running shoes (bought for walking and rando exercise in the hopes there would be a gym in my town in France). The MPT offered a weekly step aerobics course (as well as a "musculation" course I couldn't afford), and since they gave me the student rate, it was 65€ for the entire year, I signed up for step. The last time I had taken a step course was in Total Body Fitness (yea TBF!) as a gym course in high school, and wasn't in love with the idea, but I knew that I would need something to get me out of the apartment to exercise, esp in the winter. Step was every Thursday, 6:30-7:30pm, and insured that I would at least do something cardio once a week, even if the weather was bad or things fell through.

Before I paid my precious 65€, Monika and I went to a trial class to see what it was like. Basically, it was a basement room with a small mirrored section, a class of 40 or so 30-40-somethings, myself, and a few teenage girls, small black steps circa 1991, and a tiny French step instructor armed with 1970's-90s American classic pop music she couldn't actually hear the beat of the music to choreograph to. Well, maybe she just didn't know how to choreograph, but the dancer in me left the first trial class, and every class after, laughing with horror at her inability to follow the beat, tempo, and flow of the music with the steps. She would change pace every few minutes and we would do the same choreography over a 2+ month period. And then there were the other participants...those ladies! They were funny and French and for the most part, super out of shape, and so would need a water/chat break after absolutely every song. Really! I guess it just wasn't my Zumba class, where Stephanie the instructor would keep us energized, heart rates up, the entire hour+ and only minimal water breaks (3?). In other words, the class was NOT very intense at all and I hated feeling like a step robot and would sometimes find myself dancing along to the music instead of the choreography (like Footloose!). My dancing tendencies were increased in part due to the fact that Wednesday nights I would watch Glee and thus be in a dancing/singing mood all day Thursday. I did LOVE the way the instructor would bounce around (she was only like 5' tall), calling out franglais "Faites un kick, kick!" and attempting but failing to go along with the music.

Since step was not as intense as I needed and I lived at my school and thus wasn't moving around much, I realized that I had to do something else. I went on long walks but since my town was so small, there were very few different routes to take and things got old fast. I decided to start run-walking (ok mostly walking) around when it wasn't too cold or snowy, but the size of my town also meant I would run across it and feel like I had done a lot, but was only out for 12 minutes! Despite the frigid temperatures and snow, I went out a few times a week in November and December, but had trouble getting into the running mood after Christmas break and thus found myself instead going on 5km round trip walks to the next to next village a few times a week. Through my step class, I learned that a lot of French women (or at least women in Burgundy) don't really enjoy sweating, so there were never many runners in my town. Perhaps a handful on the walking/running path, but rarely enough to intimidate me. When it was really cold, I would work out in our hallway/stairwell (in the abandoned school building we lived in), running up and down stairs, taking out the trash, doing jumping jacks on each landing, and then lifting my like 2kg handweights. It wasn't much but it helped me feel better about things (like bread, cheese, salad, and wine as regular dinner staples). Also, while on two different day trips to Paris, I found discounted/free Zumba France classes to try, which were super fun though also of varying intensities.

When I returned to Senegal, I was excited about the idea of once again being able to walk everywhere, especially the 20min walk from my home (at the Training Center) to my office, not to mention the market and everywhere else in town, as a way to get back in shape. I quickly realized though that I wanted, er needed, to do something else. Thies has a few "gyms", ie rooms with old weight machines and hundreds of body building Senegalese dudes, ie not for me. Young Senegalese men love running in Thies, any time of the day, and it's somewhat very intimidating. They run for hours, never stopping, in flip-flops, jelly sandles, and occassionally tennis shoes. The days here are hot and it doesn' cool off until night, which means that evening is full of even more male runners and not a good time for a single white chick to go out running. This left the mornings...ah the mornings! I did a few short AM neighborhood runs but never really felt comfortable until another PCV said that he was going to try out the nearby track.

The track? Eh, I don't know...that sounds kind of boring and reminds me of high school gym class--plus it's not just a track, it's part of a national sports training center. I'm talking about the place where the US NBA/WNBA comes to do yearly basketball training camps, where male and female athletes from across West Africa train to become the Champion of Africa in whatever their event may be (track and field, wrestling, etc), where Lisa met and started working with what may be the national gymnastics team, and where Olympic hopefullys from across Africa come to train for summer Olympic trials. No, seriously, it's an intense place and I don't classify myself as a runner or even much of an athlete, just someone who wants to be healthy and in shape. And the track, like everything else in Senegal, is sand rekk, just sand. Do you know how difficult it is to run on sand?

Well, whatever, fine, I'll try it. Having another PCV there (though we didn't run together, I'm far too self-conscious about my running to do that) gave me the courage to try it out, then I discovered that another female Thies PCV also goes there almost every morning. She told me if you go between 7 and 8:30, there's no one using the track and usually very few creepers. Sweet! I've been running there since April, about 4-5 times a week depending on my work schedule. While I don't run incredible distances, I do well for myself and that's what matters, and I've beaten my personal bests. I still walk, but only very short distances and try to push myself further and further. Sometimes I just do a handful of laps, sometimes I go much farther, depending on the already intense morning heat and how tired I am. I still won't call myself a "runner" but the PC staff have started calling me la grande sportive (basically the great/big/intense athlete) because they see me going out almost everyday to run and I am always finishing up my post-run stretches/arms/ab work when they arrive in the morning. It feels great and has been an invaluable addition to my morning routine, even if it means I rarely get to my office before 9:30, whatever.

Will I keep running when I return to America? Perhaps. I would absolutely love to run a 5km someday soon (I would LOVE to do a full or half marathon but don't actually have the desire to be that serious about running). The house I am moving into in Baltimore is near the JHU Homewood campus which has a track that's open to the public, but I also will probably join the student gym either on the Med Campus (where Bloomberg classes are in East Baltimore) or pay a little more for the Homewood campus gym closer to home. Or maybe I will just look for a local dance studio offering African dance and Zumba, or somewhere else. However, I will def be borrowing my parents' Healthbridge guest passes during the 5 days or so I am back in CL so I can once again take one of Stephanie's Zumba sessions and do some BodyFlow!

Well, that's an update on some of my out-of-work activities. If you made it this far, FELICITATIONS!!! Sorry it was so long and not nearly as humorous or insightful as the entry I had originally planned in my head in January in France. Had a great run today which has put me in an awesome mood even if I have a long day in the office ahead of me!

More Pictures!

Started last week

My dream job, in a perfect world, would be to be a National Geographic photographer...to be able to travel the world, be brave/bold with my camera, and (in theory) not be too intrusive into people's lives but tell a story through pictures? Yes please!

Or I would be a singer/dancer in a chorus in Broadway musicals, but I don't have the dancing or singing skills for that, so NG, while way far out there, is more realistic.

In this age of blogs, facebook, and Twitter, everyone and their brother has a blog and feels the need to share about their lives with the rest of the world, warrented or not. My sister introduced me to a foodie blog that I've been reading daily, out of a mixture of curiousity, repulsion, confusion, and amazement. Through that blog I discovered that half the world appears to have food/fitness/life blogs, which is kind of overwhelming. I am pretty sure that the other half of the blogging world has travel blogs. And EVERYONE uses their blog as their own personal soapbox for whatever social justice/environmental/development/political/religious issue they want to press at the moment.

I do the same, I know.

I would LOVE to have a successful travel blog, full of gorgeous pictures I've taken in France, Morocco, Mali, Senegal, DC, wherever. For that you need three things, ideally: a good camera, writing skills, and motivation (or at least, not laziness). I have an old "Peace Corps mostly indestructable" camera that has become so scratched from my purse and travels that the screen is next to impossible to view anything through, but it can still take decent pictures when it wants to (or when I put the effort in). I can write: I was obviously never an English major, but when I put forth the effort to think in only one language (it took 3 attempts to write this sentence without using French), I like to think I can write decently. So, when I want, I have two of the three things necessary, but I frequently lack the motivation, or just suffer from unfortunate blog laziness and it's something I am actually quite ashamed of. I know that if I put in the effort, I could have a freakin' awesome travel blog, but alas.

Frequently, as I am doing something, or right after, I find myself composing great stories and humorous blog entries in my head. Then when I get to a computer, I lose focus, forget, or just don't want to type a blog entry. It's sad and comes from the same place that my procrastination in high school and college came from. I have discovered that I work best under pressure, or at least I can best focus on the tasks I have to do when I have an impending deadline, or several other activities to do at the same time. I am the same way with my work here in Senegal. That's how it goes with my blog entries: I start but don't finish them, ideas pile up, I avoid writing, and when I realize that it's been a month or so, I scramble to finish and publish them all. But the quality is missing.

The effort is missing to create an awesome and fresh blog design that reflects my personality. Sometimes I have wondered if I should just forget the blog and get rid of the cloud that hangs over my head telling me to write (or more so, the constant task in my planner that just says "BLOG!"), but I bully myself into considering that quitting, which is something I do NOT do. [Note: it took A LOT of mental work to make myself cool with leaving France early to return to Senegal and not feel like I had "quit".]

I want to share things with the handful of readers I have living vicariously through my silly and exciting adventures, so it's time to stop being so lazy! I have 5.5 weeks left abroad and I need to maximize them without feeling tied to my computer or feeling the guilt of not posting either...time to find some balance!

Update: Spending two hours last week revamping the look of this blog has made all of the difference in the world! It's still not perfect, but putting it together was just the creative outlet I had been craving and now I find myself excited to finally finish all sorts posts I started ages ago, or planned to start and still haven't. We'll see if this trend continues...

er Paris?

How about La Belle Bourgougne?

Ok, fine, Thies!

So a few weeks ago (err 2 months ago now), I was at my office and totally bored to death and frustrated by the lack of anything to do while awaiting two sets of needs assessments in the field. I was flipping between my gmail, BBC news, and various blogs (I blame Katie!) without purpose until an interesting email from the PC Training Center manager (and former Safety and Security Officer) mentioned something about a film being shot in Thies and in need of “European” extras! Yes please! I didn’t know any details, except there was a scheduled fitting in a few weeks, so I called the number and signed a few fellow PC people up!

A little info on the movie:The film is a "tele-film," or TV movie, entitled “Les Pirogues des Hautes Terres,” about the pre-colonial railroad strikes that took place in the Thies area from 1938 and 1947 and affected the Dakar-Bamako train line. It is loosely based on Ousman Sembene's book God's Bits of Wood (or Les bouts de bois de Dieu en francais), which I am just starting to read.

For the francophones:

Le 10 octobre 1947, les cheminots de l'AOF (Afrique Occidentale Française) et en particulier ceux de la gare de Thiès, deuxième ville du Sénégal, cessent le travail. Les responsables blancs du chemin de fer, accompagnés de leurs vigiles armés, ont beau ordonner la reprise immédiate du travail, les hommes refusent de regagner leurs postes. La grève durera cinq mois et dix jours. Cette grève est racontée à travers l'histoire de Pierre Marie, un jeune médecin militaire fraîchement affecté à la régie des chemins de fer, et la liaison amoureuse entre Sokna et Abdou.

from Casting info

More info en francais: Character Info

And the facebook page: Click Here, I think

This film was honestly one of the coolest/most random things I have done in recent memory and so.much.fun! (ew, I can't believe I just used a period as emphasis...time to go back to school!) Anyways, I had never ever been part of the filming of a movie and have only by accident seen rando filming (Transformers and some Jen Aniston movie, both on various trips to Chicago), so it was freakin' cool to be apart of the experience. We were just the little people, just the extras, but we still had costumes, hair, makeup, directions, and a small per diem! Whoa!

We spent one afternoon, a few days before fiming, have costume fittings (and Mike got a free haircut) and I must say, all 4 of us PCVs just had the biggest, stupidest smiles on our faces as they gave us silk slips, vintage dresses, old shoes, and fun bags to try on and then get our pictures taken for the director. We were such huge dorks and loved every minute of being part of a "period film." [Being an extra in a period film is so much cooler than a modern-day film because you get fabulous vintage clothes and the crew yells at you to take off any piece of jewelry or anything that is not "authentic" to the period!]

We shot 3 scenes over 2 days. The first day had a 5pm call, meaning we were filming until 4am (!) and we shot a party scene. For the party scene, there was a reception, discussion, and dancing, and we all had to learn to "faire la poisson", meaning look like we were speaking French without actually making a sound, yet also look believable like we were at a party and enjoying ourselves. Hysterical! Unfortunately we forgot our cameras for the party scene or I would have shots of the beautiful colonial house (the old governor's house?) and enormous spreads of mini fruit tarts and pastries and "wine" that we had to consume as part of the filming. The second day had a noon (or 1pm?) call and we shot until after 10pm, filming a scene celebrating the arrival of the train inspector and another celebrating Christmas Eve mass inside the Thies Cathedral. There was a lot of waiting around, refilming, and "Bienvenue! Bienvenue Monsieur!" that we had to exclaim. Then there was an awkward and quasi-chaotic dinner break that found the Americans (and some Frenchies) accidently showing up at the fancy dinner for the cast and crew instead of the sandwich dinner for the extras. Oops, but it was delicious and no one asked us to leave!

Here are some pics to enjoy!

Getting ready for the first night of filming: the party scene: Claire getting dolled up, Eric and I showing off our nice party clothes!

Claire and Eric before we head off to film the party scene at night (cameras were sadly left in the dressing room so we don't have any shots of the beautiful house). Then Claire and I showing off our fabulous hats and hairstyles before the "arrival" scene. The director LOVED the way we look and said that we were basically cast as "sisters" in the movie, hence why we were constantly dressed similiarly, haha. Everyone else laughed at the giant hats :)

Day 2 Crew: Claire, Mike, and I, waiting at the church to film the arrival scene Filming the arrival, complete with a band! A great French-Senegalese cast and crew! Everyone ready for Christmas Eve! Our new French friends, Klara and her mother Klara, boy whose name I forget, and Elodie, then Ann Sophie getting a scarf touch up during mass filming.There are no words to describe how much Mike loved his safari-esque costume!

And there you have it, time for me to get myself an agent! I'm ready for my close-up!

I am going to try and make this entry as non-political as possible and just informative about the current situation in Senegal as I am neither a political scientist nor at the front lines of what is going on, plus part of the Peace Corps and thus I cannot be politically involved in anything. Nothing whatsoever.

So as you all know, 2011 has already been a heck of a year for dictators, tyrants, and long-standing presidents in the Middle East and North Africa. From January on (ok December if you look on wikipedia), we've watched as the Arab Spring, with the help of Twitter and Facebook, has unseated many of those in power while others are barely hanging on by a thread (and using their last bits of power to unhinge the entire country and tumble into civil war).

The Arab Spring has made dictators and other "Big Men" the world over nervous for what could happen in their countries and Senegal is no different. The President, Monsieur Abdoulaye Wade, was elected in 2000 in a remarkably peaceful transition of power known as the Alternance. He served a 7 year term and then a 5 year term (the Constitution was changed to make 5 years the term) and announced a few months back that he was going to run in the next election on February 26, 2012. This has been a very controversial announcement as Senegal has a 2 term max for president, but Wade and his party has announced that since the Constitution was changed to make 5 years the standard term, Wade has only served one 5 year term and is thus eligible for a second 5 year term. This was met with anger and protests by a country that increasingly sees the President as corrupt, too old and ill to run a country, and completely out of touch with his people. People are upset about constant energy cuts, the high cost of living, and the way the infrastructure in the rest of the country suffers so that Dakar can have a new mall, movie theater, and the African Renaissance statue, among other things. [I have a lot of personal comments and thoughts here, but I will keep those off the record.]

April 4, 2011 was Independence Day (51 years from France!) and Wade also used it as a huge celebration of the Alternance to try and regain some support in the face of the Arab Spring. It didn't go as well as he had hoped and after he decided to divide up some of the local government structures and de-seat leaders who are not part of his party [enough here, inappropriate comments are on the tip of my tongue]. Anyways, in another play, he introduced a new bill to the Assemblee Nationale to create the seat of Vice President and change the mandate to be elected president without a run-off from 50% of the popular vote to 25% [yea, I know...]. Both of these measures were widely viewed as attempts to guarantee his victory in February 2012 and then place his son in the position of VP (he is already a "super minister"), and met with anger and frustration in streets in cities across the country. For weeks, Senegalese have talked about nothing else, and yesterday, as the ammendment to the Constitution was announced, all hell broke loose.

Dakar, in pictures

These pictures are kind of intense, but I promise that Peace Corps and the US Embassy knows what they are doing and are keeping us informed with text messages and are following the procedures we are all briefed on during PST. We are told to avoid crowds and downtown areas, and we do! Yesterday I just stayed in my office while protests and other things happened downtown. Plan also followed safety procedures to avoid the crowds and demonstrators, and protect it's property, and everyone is fine. Wade quickly removed the 25% electoral need from the bill, but people still protested the VP position (since Senegal is based off of the French system, they do not need a VP and instead the presidency passes to the head of the Senate until elections can be organized). The altered ammendment did not pass and there was a collective sigh of relief across the country as people walked around listening to the radio and gathered around TVs to listen to the follow-up political commentary. This has been regarded as "a victory for democracy" in that the leaders saw the reactions of the masses (the opposition, civil society, and religious leaders, not to mention other nervous governments) and responded in their favor.

Things have calmed down a little, but Wade is expected to address the country today and no one quite knows what he will say or what the reaction is. We were all told to avoid Dakar, so I have had a last-minute change to my weekend plans and need to find something else to do this weekend. Don't worry, we are all safe and accounted for :)

BBC Info

Synthese, en français

I realize that the US is mostly unaware of what is going on in Senegal and I may be unnecessarily worrying those who would have never heard anything about this. The story is on the front page of rfi.fr but on BBC you have to click on the Africa page to get anything, and it's nowhere to be found on the Washington Post or Chicago Trib. I am just trying to share a bit about Senegal with the handful of readers I have out there.

On verra.

Again!

Finally time for a new look to this guy! I'm still messing around with things, but after being conveniently distracted by many a beautiful blog at work, I'm finally inspired to improve this one. However, it makes me wish I knew a little something about website and blog design so that I could do something a little more fun...and I wish I had a nice camera to take some beautiful shots to display here.

Hopefully I will finally finish a few more entries this weekend so this blog can finally be back in action!

and I don't meet the peanut or millet fields!A youth group in an old Serere village near Thies (that no longer speaks Serere...)

My life as a Response Volunteer here in Senegal is very different from that of a regular PCV in many ways, not the least because I have to use phrases like "sur le terrain" or "in the field" to refer to visits outside of the office, whether to other cities or small villages in what PCVs commonly refer to as "the bush" or "en brousse."

 The Senegal RPCV, my counterpart,

and myselfA few weeks ago (ok, by now the end of April), I had my first major voyage sur le terrain, working as a translator for a few visiting NGO workers. I translated for a Senegal RPCV (from the Casamance) in country with the NGO Freedom From Hunger to do a financial literacy needs assessment for the youth in Plan's Youth Economic Empowerment program. Translating, ok, that's fine. French or Serere I can usually explain what's going on. Oh, you want word for word direct exactly what's being said in French AND Wolof?! That's a different thing entirely...

I feel like this post should have a reference to Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like and I am sure there's a post, or several about working "in the field," or "sur le terrain." Truth be told, being more of an NGO worker than a traditional PCV has been an unexpected adjustment in itself, especially during the months of April and May.

A group in the suburbs of Dakar

learning to be tailorsAnyways, the visiting NGO was doing this needs assessment in financial literacy (think saving and spending habits) with the youth currently involved in our Youth Economic Empowerment program, who will also be part of my Life Skills program. The Senegal RPCV from Davis, California (Yea Hershbergers!) was leading the team with a Senegalese/Malian FFH worker who conducted the focus group discussions and questions with the youth in Wolof. My job was to translate their responses into English for the RPCV (she served in the Casamance and thus speaks Diola instead of Wolof) who was tape recording and taking notes. I tried to get what I could, but know that I missed a lot of finer details elaborated in Wolof that the Senegalese/Malian facilitator had to catch after the sessions. It was a long and difficult 4 of 5 days (8am-8pm usually), but always interesting to spend time in the field and getting to meet more Senegalese. Not to mention I found myself at great ease the moment we arrived in a village setting instead of the urban settings we were in the first two days.

I also got to experience some new "perks" of being an NGO worker instead of just a regular PCV: namely being put up in a nice hotel in Dakar for a night, and having lunches (and a nice dinner) and transport paid for by the organization. Pas mal. Or at least an experience that I wasn't totally comfortable with, but appreciated and took as an interesting learning experience.

I think these girls thought it was

funny that I speak Serere or somethingOn a more serious note, there were several aspects of the Needs Assessment that I did not support/feel comfortable about because they are mostly against the Peace Corps way of doing development: namely not spending time getting to know a community before conducting interviews and basically "testing" them on certain things, then handing out money or boisons (soda) to the group for their time, and perhaps "wasting" copious amounts of money on various things a PCV would deem unnecessary (like the hotel and nice dinner). We drove into a neighborhood, community center, or village, spent two to three hours with them, grilling them about their spending habits (getting some truthful answers and a lot of "correct but not true" answers), talked at them a lot, handed out money or soda, and sped off to the next meeting. This is what many PCVs HATE about NGOs that don't spend time getting to know a group or community (the argument could be made that Plan already works with these groups so they kind of knew of us but didn't actually know us).

Whatever, it was a learning experience that served to educate and freak me out about the Needs Assessment I had to do just a few weeks later in life skills, but that will be the subject of a future blog post, Inchallah.

So with as much work as I have to get done right now, after working for several hours straight, my focus has disappeared and I decided to start prepping myself to return to the blog world (for all 6 or 7 of you who still read this).

So I have been back in Senegal for just over 2 months, if you can believe it. It feels like I've been here forever (or really, never left) and yet it also feels like I just left France. Had I not returned to Senegal, my position in France would have finished well over a month ago already and I would have been traveling/going broke, unemployed, or back serving suburban coffee (sorry CL but it's not as fun as DC coffee). Needless to say, I am happy that this opportunity presented itself and I am "back where I belong," as people told me upon my return to Senegal and Peace Corps.

I have been admittedly pretty terrible with updating and for no good reason, so sorry about that! My parents have gotten spoiled by my sister's relatively recent (a few months) re-entry into the blogging world and she posts regularly and very interesting posts, and then there's me...

.....

crickets

.........

A few weeks pass and they ask me to post something...

...

A few weeks later I finally get around to finishing a bunch of posts I started several months prior. And I get maybe one or two comments per post because people have totally forgotten that I am still alive, abroad, and have a blog. [Can't to say I blame any of them!] That doesn't necessarily encourage me to keep posting, or at least not frequently.

And then there's the fact that I feel the need to change the look and layout of this blog. It was very African, now it's very European, but I need to change it to meet where I am in life: back in Senegal, preparing for grad school in the fall, and an unknown and exciting future in the field of public health. Basically the picture of the towers in Semur holds me to the past instead of enjoying the present and looking forward to the future. Time for a new look!

Any suggestions or design ideas for this computer design illiterate?

btw, check me out!

Whoa, back in the Peace Corps already!

Perhaps it's time for a post on what I am doing and where I am living back here in Senegal?

I have been delaying this post basically because I keep forgetting to take pictures of the front of my office and my home here in Senegal...oh wait, I'm still at the Training Center (er, back at the Training Center). Whatevs, I am in Senegal and thus happy!

So, about my job...

I am working with Plan International in Senegal on their Youth Economic Empowerment Program. It's basically a program involving youth village savings and loans groups (a type of micro-finance project-ish). The groups have been in existence for awhile now, but Plan wants to add specific financial literacy and Life Skills program to improve the activities of the group and make sure that their work lasts longer than the length of time agents spend in the field. The NGO Freedom From Hunger is in charge of the financial literacy program development, while Peace Corps (me currently) is in charge of the life skills component.

Now what is Life Skills, you ask?

Well, it's an education program aimed at youth (but able to be used for any type or age of group, in school and out, old and young) that means to give people the skills necessary to improve their lives. These include skills in communication, good decision making, promoting gender equality, developing and maintaining relationships, resisting peer pressure, self confidence, and avoiding risky behavior. The original idea is that once armed with these skills, or abilities, they will lower their risk for unwanted/early pregnancy, forced/early marriage, drugs, alcohol, and STIs (especially HIV/AIDS), among other things.

How am I supposed to do that?

Well, Peace Corps has an excellent and comprehensive Life Skills training manual (which I used in Djilor a little with my peer educators) that is serving as the basis for the curriculum I will be developing, with the assistance of some documents Plan Senegal already has at their disposal. Plan Niger worked with Peace Corps Niger to develop a document last fall that I am using as a guide, but adapting to the needs of youth in Senegal. To begin with, I had to do research and plan what is known as a needs assessment (the subject of a future post). Upon completion of the needs assessment in the field, I have to analyze the results and translate them into certain themes and "modules" that I will use to develop a curriculum to be used during a Training of Trainers (TOT). The goal of the TOT will be to train agents who will then facilitate the Life Skills curriculum with our youth groups over a period of 6 months. Eventually youth leaders will be trained and the information will be spread across all of the Plan groups over the next few years. My work is just up to curriculum development and planning the TOT, then my replacement Lisa steps in for the next two years. I know it's complicated, but this is the simplest explanation I can give right now.

Quite the change from my bush village in the delta, I now work in an office (with occasional A/C and water) on the Route Nationale in Thies.

My desk: that's my chair and my

counterpart is usually on the other side

plus the new PCV is on the edge.

That's right: 3 people, one deskThe beautiful view outside my office

(sarcasm)

Lisa, the new PCV who will work with me

and then take over when I leave in August.

My Plan mattress, broken up

table, bag of winter clothes,

and random other stuff

waiting for a new house.Bed, food bucket, and suitcase/trunkI'd post pictures of my housing, except I'm still somewhat "in transition." I've been saying "homeless" but that's not really true. I'm staying at the same place my Senegal journey began over 3 years ago, and my second job site during my Service: the Peace Corps Thies Training Center. I was temporarily housed in a couple's house in Thies, mainly to host Lisa for a week while she learned about her new assignment, but it wasn't the best arrangement and so PC told me to come back while they find me something else. In that time, I've been all over the place doing my needs assessment, meetings in Dakar, and breaking into the movie biz. It's actually not a bad arrangement: a 15 min walk to the office, 5 minutes from a track I can run on (before 8am), 15 min to the market, plus running water (even when the rest of the city's water isn't running), electricity (through a backup generator), a fridge for my mangoes and yogurt, and internet. And friends here, even if I can't really unpack/decorate yet.

It's not my village, mais c'est pas mal!

[Note: this post was originally started in early April...]

The back porch I worked so hard to

make sure my replacement had to enjoy!So when I wrote that emotional blog post 10 months ago about leaving Ndiomdy, I knew I would be back to visit, I just didn't think it would be within a year. Maybe a few years: enough time for the children to have forgotten me as a specific person, someone other than the train of foreigners continually living at the house (what? white people aren't all the same?). But to be able be back in time for the kids to be slightly confused about my name but still remember the fish faces and Macarena dance moves I taught them and too see mothers still breastfeeding and carrying the same babies on their backs that they were before I left, was INCROYABLE.

Ndeye, Baby Ibou's mom, at the school well in Ndiomdy.

It should be noted that Ibou DID remember me!

I left Thies for Kaolack Friday late afternoon and I practically ran from the Plan office to the garage (in part because I waited all day to leave but could have left early in the morning and gone the entire way). I arrived in Kaolack just before dark, in time for an evening bean sandwich with old and new friends, and to be able to enjoy the newly cleaned regional house. I left the house at 7:30 Saturday morning to get to the garage and hop on a car to Djilor as soon as possible. Since it was Passi market day (and thus cars to Djilor are few), I was mentally prepared to ride to Passi and walk the 12km to Djilor and then on to Ndiomdy. Fortunately, I got the first car to Foundiougne AND we took the bush road, completely bypassing Passi and arriving in Djilor within 45min (as opposed to the 1.5hours it usually takes). I was in Djilor by 9, in time for breakfast at Farba's and lunch with my family in the village. I'll be honest, I nearly had tears of excitement as we approached Djilor...

I'm coming home, I'm coming home!

Ibou and Seynabou hard at work on

a new project in the women's garden.

Going to Mary's wedding was special and was going home, but I hadn't made it to my village or seen everyone. This trip was to see my family, friends, hut, existing projects, and to see how my replacement has turned the village into her own.

At the school gardenThere are fewer "big kids" at the

school this year so they had to scale

back a little, but it's still be successful!It was eye-opening, emotional, and a lot of fun to just be able to hang out with friends and family, not worrying about work projects or meetings or anything. I was able to sit with friends I haven't spent time with in ages (even before I left) and just enjoy the conversation and laughter. The villagers were just as happy to see me as I was them, old men and young children alike! It was so fun and I know I saw more than a few tears of happiness and disbelief in people's eyes. I was worried about people demanding gifts, and there were a few normal requests, but I had bought a kg of cola nuts and just passed those out and people were happy. There were requests for my picture, so I will come armed with images of myself for the next visit.

Ibou next to a mango tree I

planted in the school garden.I took far too few pictures, and basically none of people (fail!), which was super disappointing, but promise them when I next go back for a visit in a few weeks.

I did take some pictures of projects I was involved in that are still going (namely the gardens) and some trees (known as “Khady Diouf mangoes”) that are thriving and will hopefully be fruiting within a few years.

One of the Khady Diouf Mango

on "main street"!People were genuinely upset that I was only there for a brief weekend visit, all expecting I had at least a few weeks and begging me to come back. I will be back, but I have to balance my desire to go back (which I would do every other weekend if I could) with respect for my replacement's need and new authority in the village. Ndiomdy will always be my home village, but it's not my Peace Corps site anymore and I need to let my replacement do her thing, which means I need to give her space. The vil doesn't really understand that, but hopefully I will be able to make it back a few more times before I head out in early August!

Kids representing the Red Cross of

Senegal

I was also in town for the 51st anniversary of Senegalese independence and so watched the celebrations with Farba and family in Djilor. Nothing big ("no money" according to the State) but lots of kids and some cool performers.

Hard to believe this is where I used to

live yet it was still home, even with a

crazed dog!Where my bed, bookshelf,

and gas stove used to beHer (my old) bed where I

used to keep trunks and the

bookshelf where the bed

used to beMy replacement has made her mark on my old hut, namely rearranging the furniture in a very space effective way (whoa it looks huge!), having a friend paint the inside, and adopting a cat (takes care of the little critters) and a dog (who destroyed the beautiful screen doors). I loved the way my hut looked, but still took some pictures because I was quite impressed with what she had done with it. My hut was my safe space, my sanctuary from the adventure that was life in a small but lovely bush village, and it appears to be the same for her as well.

More Ndiomdy pics to come in a few weeks, a fellanga Roog!

Why do people blog abroad?

To keep everyone entertained by their "adventures," "mis-steps," and "life lessons." I know I'm included in this and thought I would share this all-too-correct post with the few readers I have out in blog land. I think a lot of it applies not just to aid workers but anyone from my generation going abroad to do ANYTHING. It may or may not be warranted, but we all do it for the same reason.

On those lines, I haven't really updated in awhile because I haven't had any remarkable things to report, or like the post describes, I'm used to the culture and way of life here (HA!). Really, I just haven't had much of anything to share since my days involve mostly sitting at a computer in a Senegalese office and the afternoons walking to the market or somewhere else for some exercise. My housing is still complicated and thus I haven't had anything to post showing my new digs. And honestly, I just forget to pull out my camera for an easy update.

But, I am in Senegal and will be returning to America in early August to start my MSPH in Health Education and Health Communication at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore! Very excited and now it's time to find someone or something to help me pay for my graduate degree!

Opening up a hard driveSo in October 2009, I was pulled in on a project here in Senegal somewhat against my will and due to the very limited time during the end of my PC Service, I never really posted anything about it. It was basically organizing the arrival of 50 or so computers shipped from America to a town near my site. The project was put together by a Senegal RPCV named Lettie who had been a PCV in our area and continues to make yearly trips to her old village. The computers were destined for 5 schools in a town I very much disliked for many, many reasons I won't go into now. With the help of Batman Farba, we basically uncovered a potential plot by certain members of the community and government to receive all 50 computers but only give a portion of them to the schools and sell the rest for a profit. It was dramatic and complicated, but eventually the computers found their ways to some schools, even if not all of the schools had places for the computers to be set up.

Check out this website and screen #1: http://worldcomputerexchange.org/ (you also might recognize someone on screen #3

Sane the driver and major help!Here's some of my own shots from the event:

Jack with computers set up in the

teachers' loungeA bus full of computers, shipment 1RPCV LettiePt 2 of the shipment arrived in a rented truck

and the computers literally tumbled out of

the back of the truck...great start!Counting mice, keyboards, cables,

you-name-it

The full story

And I don't mean the US, sorry family.

This weekend I opened an email from one of my besties that said: "Hope you are loving being back home (as this is the place I think you feel the most comfortable). "

And that is very true. "Soyez le bienvenue" Welcome back! Upon my arrival back at the Thies Training Center, I was immediately embraced in loving hugs and meaningful grasps of my hands by people I worked with for more than 2 years. I was immediately told to "make myself at home," "fais comme chez toi," and other similar wishes to get comfortable, and ya know what? It feels great.

Back in beautiful fabrics

That feeling was only magnified this past weekend when I hopped in a car early Saturday morning with two other PCVs to head to my neck of the woods, the Delta, for our dear friend Mary's wedding. Yes, a real wedding! Mary lives in Pethie, just 1km from Ndiomdy, so we were close during the overlap of our service and I know her new husband very well. It was important to be able to make the wedding but I honestly wasn't sure if I would be able to swing it. Alhumdouliliah I was and it was an incredible day!

A bride with her two American bridesmaids and several Senegalese onesWe stopped at the Kaolack House, greeted by old and new faces, and then 28 of us, dressed in our Senegalese best, climbed in a "bus" bound for Pethie that fellow Djilor PCV Chris had organized. The excitement of the ride and being back magnified with each kilometer closer to Pethie...familiar landmarks flew by, the Passi market, the Djilor post office, our friend Diegan Sarr outside his family's compound in Djilor, and then Pethie in the distance. Before installing in Ndiomdy, I spent 10 days shadowing another PCV in Pethie and am thus very familiar with the village. I directed the "bus" to Mary's compound though with a giant tent next door, it was pretty obvious where the party was going to be.

Mary's mom, mom's friend, and cousins were in from America, plus the bus of us and several PCVs already on site meant that Pethie had never seen this many foreigners at one time. We greeted the family and I was immediately recognized and welcomed by her village family, which was just the first of many village reunions that day.

Look at that face!Sitting with Mary and her US family, another PCV signaled for me to come out and guess who was waiting for me? Seynabou and Ibou! And Baby James! Lots of laughter and greetings, and Ibou wouldn't let me go. It was sooo good to see them! They told me that the teachers were in town, at the groom's house, so we went there. My dear friend, Evelyn, started crying when she saw me, "I really believed I would never see you again! Never! And you're here!" She then wouldn't let me go either. And so it continued the rest of the day as people from the village came through town for the wedding. Farba too! My Serere was obviously very rusty, as was recalling some people's names, but I loved that we talked like no time had passed. To everyone it was only natural that I was back in time for the wedding, I mean, why wouldn't I? It didn't matter to them whether or not I had another reason to be in Senegal (though they were happy to hear I do), but of course you do what you can to make it to a "family" member's wedding (the way our villages work, Mary is my younger sister though they all also told me "Mary wins because she married a Serere, now it's your turn!"). They all promised to do the same for my wedding :)

Bridesmaid Steph helping

Mary with makeup

It was so good to see everyone, but I didn't make the trip just for a reunion (which is why I didn't actually go to Ndiomdy), I made the trip to show my love and support for Mary and Malick (well, ok, we know him by his Senegalese nickname, Ass). It was important to me to be able to help Mary out wherever possible, usually in directing people around Pethie and holding Mary's phone.

Mr and Mrs Loum!Typical Senegalese Muslim weddings are curious things. The day is spent in preparation, visiting people and cooking, and since the party is thrown by the groom's family, Mary was remarkably calm as we all sat around chatting and putting henna on our feet. Eventually the "activities" started: Mary went to a friend's to get ready, processed through the village to greet the groom's family, came to her compound and danced, and then representatives from both families went to the mosque for the ceremony. Mary stayed in her hut and her groom stayed in his own while they got married, to each other. Yes, the marriage ceremony happened without either of them present. Interesting, eh?

After the ceremony, there was a lot of dancing, dancing, eating, dancing, Mary and Malick processed in, more dancing, and oh yea, even more dancing. (We left at midnight, before "dinner" was served). Mostly traditional Serere dances, but a little bit of Western wedding dancing was thrown in, including the Macarena!

PCVs joined in on the Serere dancing and it was great to be able to watch old and young, male and female, American and Senegalese, jump into the drum circle and show what they were made of!

In between phases of dancing and after "lunch" (at 8pm), I stood up from the bowl, washed my hands, and heard "Khady Diouf!" in a familiar voice and knew it was my sister Seynabou Senghor! All of my village sisters were there and enveloped me in a giant group hug. Ah so good to be back! In typical Ndiomdy fashion, there were two new babies to meet, a sister happy NOT to be pregnant, dancing, and LOTS of laughter before going to join the dance party in the tent and seeing my village brothers. Such an amazing reunion day!

Perhaps the best part of the dancing was that a bunch of my village nieces and nephews showed up and we all had a dance party together! The kids aren't usually allowed out of the compound in the evening, especially out of Ndiomdy, so it was super special that my village sisters let them come to Pethie to see me and party!

The Djilor Crew: Khady, Moustapha, Tening (Mary's counterpart), Mari, Ami, fo BabakarIn addition to seeing the villagers, it was just as good to see my fellow Djilor area PCVs: Mary, Chris, Jack, and my replacement, Morgan. We had some good times together, with lots of laughs, and I really missed them this past year. Chris COSed just after the wedding so this is very possibly the last time we will all be together again (but then again, who knows?).

So yea, I'm back in Senegal and while I have a different job in a different town, it feels so right to be here right now. I will be visiting Ndiomdy soon, Inchallah, to greet everyone and see the progress and continuation of some of my work. And eat leaf sauce with chicken, it's already been requested!

I’m at the Brussels Airport waiting on my flight. The last time I was here, three years ago Sunday, I was headed to Dakar, Senegal with 39 other young, idealistic Peace Corps Trainees. We were halfway through 24 hours of travel and excited to see our new home for the following few years. I remember that the hallways and bathrooms at the airport smelled exactly as I remembered them 3 years before when I first went abroad and I was instantly transported back. Today is much the same: same airport, same interesting mix of French, Flemmish, and English everywhere, and same final destination. Today, however, I am alone.

Today I set off not as a PC Trainee but as a PC Response Volunteer, and for just 5 months instead of the 27months I was faced with last time I was at the Brussels Airport. I don’t have the other 39 with me (or any other number as our group shrunk over the two years). While it’s slightly different, it’s also very, very familiar. Walking through the airport, being grouped into the flights bound for Africa (and exiting the EU), and watching as I once again become the minority traveler in age, gender, and race. I pass by the gate for the flight bound for Banjul and actually know where it’s going (when we had a stopover during the first flight, I thought it was Mali or somewhere in the Sahara, oops!). I sit at the gate for Dakar and recognize some of the telling features of the ethnic groups sitting near me, understand the language being spoken as well as the accent, and admire the dress (especially the tall man in the majestic white boubou with and hot pink roller carry-on). Dignified old French men and women give way to African “big men”, women in sparkling dresses, and elderly European tourists dressed inappropriately. I’m comfortable, and yet starting to get nervous as I think about the arrival gate in Dakar. Someone is supposed to meet me but mistakes with pickups aren’t unknown in PC Senegal history. It will be fine, Inchallah, even though the only money on me is a 20euro and maybe 1.23 in change. Hmm

I know where I’m going and yet I don’t know what awaits me. It’s scary and exciting all at once. This service will be very different from my first, not the least in the fact that it’s so much shorter and will be urban-based instead of in tiny Ndiomdy. I don’t know how much freedom I’ll have in my schedule (will I make my friends’ village wedding on Saturday? I won’t know until Friday night probably) or what my interaction with other PCVs will be like (no longer in Kaolack). How will things go with Plan? Will I be able to travel to a few of the areas I never made it to before COSing almost 10months ago? What will it be like without the members of my Stage (Stage ET) or core members of my support group?

It’s an adventure and I can’t wait to experience it!

[We are now flying over the Sahara and I can tell through the window that the sun is gathering strength, changing from that which shines in Burgundy on good days (and was covered by the usual clouds in Brussels) and becoming the hot African sun which tortures poor souls in the hot season but controls the flow of life year round.]

Upside down

So on Monday night at 9pm, I found out that I was booked on a flight for Thursday morning at 11:45am, giving me just two days to get my life in France in order. Senegal was a very likely possibility, but without an exact date I didn’t want to tell my students or start packing, si jamais there was a problem. Slightly superstitious, I know.

My lycee, the three windows up top

on the right are my tiny classroomIn the two days I barely had time to breathe, let alone teach, pack, and laugh with the other assistants, leaving me already slightly behind on correspondence, grad school communication, and unable to enjoy some last few walks around my medieval French town. [And somewhere in there, Ash Wednesday also happened meaning its Lent and time to get serious.]

Looking up at Semur from the riverMy last day in Semur seemed both totally normal and completely ridiculous at once. After some slightly emotional goodbyes with my favorite classes at the lycee generale on Tuesday (they wrote me a poem and we took pictures!), I showed up for my two lycee pro classes and of course the prof wasn’t there. Monica and I had leftover lunch together as we do everyday and the other girls came over in the evening for dessert and kir royales. I spent part of the afternoon with my language exchange partner, Christiane, talking about the schools, her family, and traveling over tea and cake. I went to double (or triple) check something about the apartment with the school administration which turned into an hour long legal argument between the two cons (fools, idiots) who run the school finances (uh…) and Monika and myself about the amount of rent. We of course turned out victorious because the two of them are unable to do basic number crunching and refused to look at their files. We did learn one thing: “apparently” in France a contract that you are never shown or agree to can be changed after a different agreement has been made, without you being informed (don’t follow? Neither did we…nor the two idiots we were arguing with). After the sadness about leaving some of my fave students, I was reminded yet another reason why the school is ridiculous. A relatively normal day in Semur and at the lycee.

One of the four old towersAnd yet it wasn’t because it was my last day in a beautiful medieval town in the French countryside and the sun was shining. I went back and forth between the post office and my apartment some 5 times with boxes and things to mail. I closed my bank account (only after the argument with the lycee). And I packed everything I own, again…and all by 8pm (a record in itself!). I said goodbye to some of the students, teachers, and assistants, watched an episode of Glee, and crashed in my bed, in a room full of ugly blue and pink wallpaper.

For the record, I feel the need to share how glad I am that I signed up for the teaching assistantship in France. Several friends suggested it as a good “pause” year between PC and jobs or grad school and while on more than one occasion I felt like my work with the lycee was a waste of time (for me) and money (them and me), it was a good decision. True, I had a crappy lycee arrangement with 500-some students and more than 37 groups of them (and thus couldn't spend quality time with them), several overly political teachers and admin which hurt their students' apprentissage of English, and a cold apartment that we were overcharged to live in (and then deal with the idiots who can’t do math), but I still had a good experience.

As I’ve mentioned, I couldn’t have asked for a better roommate in Monika or other fellow assistants Vir, Jie, and hospital volunteer Klara. We all got along well, enjoyed spending time together, and laughed. A LOT. We spoke French together all of the time, which is a much better situation than many of the city assistants I know who spend their days and weeks in English. Semur is a beautiful town, more so in the sun than the clouds, that was just on pace with what I was looking for when I first applied to the position. The students were nice and of modest background (so not overly stuck up/snobby) and liked to laugh with me. There’s wine and cheese aplenty. This year also fulfilled a life-long dream I had of living in Europe (in my apartment, going to grocery stores, speaking true French, visiting cafes, and seeing la vrai quotidienne, quoi. Burgundy, while not super glamorous, is a very interesting and historic part of France with a lot to offer.

Along those lines, some of the things I will miss the most about not being in France:Leftover tiramisu with Kir Royales:

Creme de Cassis et Cremante

Les filles, as we called ourselves. We’ll see each other again, somewhere, sometime. In the least, it’s an excuse to come back to Europe or to go to South America JSpeaking French, real French. In Senegal I speak Fre-rere or Frolof (combos of French and Serere or Wolof), but in France it’s a different language completely. I still make lots of silly grammar mistakes (la instead of le, confusion on the subjunctive tense, etc), but I’m so much more comfortable in French than I’ve ever been and have serious difficulty turning it off, which I LOVE. Most assistants speak their native languages with their teachers, but I’ve only ever really spoken French with mine (the exceptions are few and far between), though they only spoke English with the girl who was in Semur last year. True, because of Senegal, Brussels, Paris, and being American, I’ll never have a true French accent, or even a deep Burgundy accent (much to my chagrin, I can’t roll my Rs), but I’ll have to satisfy myself with people not being able to confidently place my accent. Also, in Burgundy, unlike silly Paris, people will continue to speak to you in French even after they realize you aren’t French. Maybe it’s a lack of English knowledge or confidence, or they just have no idea where you are from, but I really appreciate it. I’m a stubborn traveler and only ever respond in French when I’m traveling abroad, but I really enjoyed when people would carry on conversations with me in French even if I stumbled over things. And my language exchange lessons were a lot of fun.Wine. In Senegal, it burns and tastes like vinegar, but in France it has so many qualities and is a fascinating culture in and of itself, plus it’s cheap. I’m pretty sure that when I have a house I want a wine cave and a garden, like almost every Semur family.Afternoon tea (and not necessarily like in Britain). This wasn’t a daily occurrence but because Monika and I had a lot of tea/coffee/hot chocolate in our apartment and the town cafés always closed randomly without warning, our place became a great place for a hot afternoon drink and gossip alongside some type of sweet that we made or received from someone. Just now while drinking some tea and eating a cookie on this flight, I thought about how it’s not quite the same in Senegal or France. It was always a fun, relaxing, and cheap thing to do with the girls as a break from work or whatever.Things written in French: sorry, but it’s just so much more elegant than English, à mon avis.My students (many of them) who were mostly sweet though talkative (though not always in English), but I loved getting a rise out of them by being silly or telling them something ridiculous about the US (cost of college tuition, stereotypes of French people, etc), and laughing at/with them about English pronunciation. The 2ndes and 1eres were particularly enjoyable (especially Madame W's class!) and I hope to hear from some of them via email.Being paid in Euros

The salon, before the ceiling

started caving inThings I won’t miss: the grayness that existed November-early February, my cold apartment, the fools I already mentioned, apartment issues like a falling ceiling and mold, teacher/student/train strikes (ok ok, they exist in Senegal), the “bof!” culture of not caring exhibited by some colleagues, and French bureaucracy (though I would love for socialized healthcare to come to the US, so much easier and better!).

This chapter of my life in France is done; another is opening in Senegal, and in the fall yet another chapter will begin as I start grad school. I was accepted to the Johns Hopkin’s Bloomberg MS in Public Health (slightly different from a traditional MPH) and Tuft’s University MPH and now have an important decision to make. I’m still in disbelief that a future in the US is starting to shape up but it will be good to return for awhile. As long as these programs don’t get canceled or change their minds…

Au revoir Burgundy!

This celebration also happened to fall on Carnaval

Jie and Klara working on the saladSo as I’ve mentioned before, the other assistants and I like to get together and celebrate holidays and random events, especially birthdays. There aren’t very many cafés or restaurants in Semur (esp not any we could afford), so we wind up cooking quite a bit. The food is a whole range of things from German shnitzels or sweet pancake like things with raisins (Kaiserschmann, sp?, Monika) to Mexican food and chili (me), Asian cuisine (Jie), French quiches and other dishes (Vir and Monika), and salads (Jie and myself), plus yummy desserts (Vir, Klara). Monika and I baked so much in the winter (out of boredom and the holidays) that we started referring to the place as a biscuiterie or cookie shop.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not really a cook and have to really be inspired to want to spend time cooking, but as Monika and I take turns cooking lunch a few times a week, I’ve been trying more and more. Recent creations of mine have included vegetarian quesadillas, peanut butter banana pancakes with yogurt, breakfast burritos, Senegalese bean sandwiches, squash soup, veggie heavy dishes like pastas or skillet creations, pumpkin pie, and salads with anything you can think of (chick peas are my recent addictions). They’re usually inventive and only somewhat follow a recipe and I love being pleasantly surprised when they turn out pas mal.

Joyeux 24 Vir!On Tuesday we fête-d Vir’s birthday and my going away with an Italian feast and some of our fave teachers and Frenchies. We don’t eat much pasta at all ever and were missing it so decided to make two types of pasta (spaghetti and farafelle) and two sauces (Bolognese and a meatless for vegetarian Klara), a tomato mozzarella salad, bread, and tiramisu. I was in charge of the vegetarian sauce and wanted to do something that was cheese or cream-based instead of just a meatless version of Monika’s sauce. I searched online and all of the alfredo sauces were super boring, just cream, flour, and perhaps a little cheese. And then I found it! A cheesy alfredo with an interesting mix of veggies. Whereas most called for peas and ham (obviously not vegetarian), this called for artichokes (we just so happened to have a can in the pantry) and suggested mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes (a bit of a search to find them and I found the last jar at the last store in Semur), along with a healthy dose of fresh parmesan, vegetable broth, and soy milk (I used regular). I must say, it was quite the hit, even among the non-vegetarians. J

Though I’ve mentioned about not being a foodie (I’m really not, esp after traveling with two in Morocco and walking away less interested than I started), I am proud when a recipe that I find online and adjust turns out well and I wanted to share it with you all because I want to make it someday again.

Cheesy Artichoke Pasta Sauce (man, I’m salivating just thinking about it again and the way the flavors perfectly meshed). From the website: Creamy Artichoke Sauce

Ingredients:1/4 cup butter or margarine2 tablespoons flour1 1/2 cups vegetable broth1/2 cup (soy) milkjuice from one lemon (approx. 2 tablespoons)1 can artichoke hearts, chopped3 cloves garlic, minced1/2 teaspoon salt1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, fresh8-10 oz pastaSun dried tomatoes1 can of mushroomsMonika with her bolognese

and my creamy deliciousnessPreparation:Cook pasta in large saucepan or pot. While the pasta is cooking, simmer the butter or margarine, flour and and vegetable broth in a small saucepan until it thickens, forming a roux, mixing well. If the mixture does not thicken, turn up the heat and add more flour. Add remaining ingredients, except for pasta, turn heat to low, and simmer for about 5 minutes, allowing flavors to blend and cheese to melt. Drain pasta when done cooking, toss with sauce and enjoy!

Monika and I also had a difficult job picking out wines to match our sauces, but I chose a Touraine, a white wine that had a suggested pairing with cheese and got positive comments from the real Frenchies at our soiree. Woohoo! A French cooking victory!Our table, set for 13

It was a fun evening with everyone and was another reminder that I will definitely miss some certain aspects of life in Semur. I like being able to see friends regularly, as in daily or every few days and enjoy meals together (it’s been YEARS since I’ve been able to do that). Some day again.

Monika, moi, Jie, Vir, et Klara

A blond, a brunette, and a red head take on North Africa

On February 22, just a few days after protests finally made their way to Morocco (and subsequently stopped right away), fellow English assistants Erica, Sophia, and I traveled to Morocco for a 9 day winter vacation. [I wanted to say it was “much-needed” but seeing as I barely worked the month before, it felt undeserved. The sunlight was, however, much needed.]

Due to time and budget constraints, we stuck to the northern half of the Kingdom of Morocco, hitting Chefchaouen, Meknes, Volubilis, Fes, Marrakech, and Tangier. We flew into and out of Tangier with EasyJet from Paris and then used a very organized system of buses and trains to get around everywhere our feet couldn’t take us.

For the sake of the few people who still read this blog, here are some highlights from the trip:

Favorite part: Experiencing the interesting mélange of the Middle East, Western Europe, and Africa. Unlike anywhere I’ve ever been and yet strangely familiar. Chaotic yet organized, smelly yet clean, relaxed yet very traditional. It obviously wasn’t my first trip to a Muslim country, nor to Africa, but was my first encounter with an Arab country and I find Arabic to be a beautiful and fascinating language.

Least favorite: The cat calls, but is that a surprise? I actually didn’t hear most of them but the others did. Senegal gave me a thick skin and evil look but the creepers were drawn to Sophia like moths to a flame, poor girl (and she even looks a little Berber!). Some of the comments were funny (“Spice Girls! Hey Spice Girls!”) but others were more annoying and it took a lot out of the girls.

So glad I saw: the Roman ruins at Volubilis. I’ve seen ruins in Cyprus, France, Germany, and of course Rome, but these were unlike any I had ever seen before. Vast and detailed, and along with the Lonely Planet walking tour, the old Roman city came alive before my eyes. The ruined city is full of beautifully intact mosaics, arches, columns, and a still visible city plan. Fascinating.

Biggest regret: not visiting a hammam or Turkish bath. Next time!

Best lodging: I used the (R)PCV-Fulbright network to connect with Monica in Meknes who very kindly let us stay at her place gratuite for three days though we had never actually met. She and her friends taught us a lot about Morocco, Meknes, and Moroccan culture, plus her friend Zacaria’s mom made us authentic homemade couscous with lamb and seven veggies. Unreal good. Hotel Continental, overlooking the port in Tangier was also a fabulous throwback to the beatnik Morocco of the 1950s and 60s.

Biggest disappointment: not having a nice camera to fairly capture the beauty and colors of Morocco. Sophia was our group photog with her fancy camera but I found myself discouraged and jealous about my tired little guy on more occasions than I care to mention.

Prettiest green space: either inside the Kasbah in Chefchaouen or the Jardin Majorelle (Yves St Laurent’s place, see group shot at start of blog). Actually, the entire countryside in and around Chefchaouen.

Favorite medina and market space: I hate to say it, but Marrakech. Everything the guidebook and others said was to beware of the chaos of Fes, which seemed relatively tame to me (though we were lost 4 hours before we found it), Chefchaouen was small and interesting, and we never saw the entire Meknes market in it’s full glory, but the market in Marrakech was alive with people and things everywhere. I was at once annoyed by the people and fascinated by everything everywhere! It was cool to pass through the souks and watch crafters and artisans at work, dying fabrics bright and natural colors, pounding silver and brass, or carving wood, as well as the designer brand knockoffs and ridiculous Chinese imports. And I had some funny bartering experiences. Best food: Wherever the locals were eating, but especially the lentil soup man we found in Chefchaouen. Delicious soup (3dhm a bowl) and tasty tajines, plus he took care of us as customers and made sure no one harassed us in the least.

Best thing to drink: Tough but the OJ juice at Place Diam el-Fnaa wins out for costing just 4dhm ($.40) for a tall glass of fresh-squeezed all natural pulpy OJ. Runner up would be the juice in Meknes at Café Florence including avocado (lighter and creamier than you would imagine without tasting too much like guacamole), strawberry (in season and sooo good), and almond (chunks of almond in it!). Also delicious was the Berber spiced coffee at Café Clock in Fez and thé épicé at the Café des Epices in Marrakech. Oh man! I totally forgot the mint tea! Soooo good! Morocco gets major points for delicious beverages.

Best pastries: In Meknes the girls became obsessed with the marrakachia, a pain au chocolat that has been married with an éclair: croissant filled to bursting with chocolate hazelnut pudding and covered in a thick coat of chocolate on top. All for 3.5dhm (that’s $0.35). Morocco, especially where we were, are famous for their pastries using honey, almonds, and peanuts in various combinations which we definitely enjoyed.

Best transit: The Marrakeche Express night train to Tangier. Clean and decently priced couchettes with lots of space, on time, and they give you a bottle of water.

Weirdest food experience: Using the last 100dhm ($10) between us on a cheese pizza from Domino’s on the beach in Tangier our last afternoon with Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On playing in the background.” My travel companions were tired of much of the food and wandering around, so we wound up at this weird mall food court-like place that obviously caters to the rich European crew in the summer months but which is dead in winter. Add the music and it was just weird. We could have used the same amount of money to get bread, soup, yogurt, drinks, fruit, and pastries, but alas. Obviously not a place for locals which made for a sad last meal in Morocco.

Travel essential: Lonely Planet Morocco. This was a birthday present from my parents and there wasn’t an afternoon where we went without using it. The maps were great, the information mostly up-to-date, and the facts fascinating. We made notes in it and sent it along to my friends Jim and Michelle in London for use later this spring.

Something else fabulous: All of the nice Americans we met all over the place. We met American tourists in every city we visited and wound up site seeing or sharing juice together. Sophia kept remarking about how nice Americans can be to each other abroad (if only that extended to within the US and with foreigners).

So for the record, I totally recommend Morocco! I’m glad I didn’t do PC in Morocco despite being invited to, but I really liked visiting and hope to go back sometime again.

Moi, Sophia, et Erica

No, it's not an engagement, marriage, or baby the way many of my friends have been making similar "announcements" the past few years. This is another interesting life announcement that I had not necessarily expected to make this soon...

I'm going back to Senegal!

Yes, that's correct, I'm headed back to Senegal. With the Peace Corps. Again.

Don't worry, it's not another 27 month commitment--just 5 months this time. I'm going back as what is called a Peace Corps Response Volunteer. What's Peace Corps Response you may ask? Well, it's basically a bunch of short term (3months-1 year) specialized Volunteer assignments designed for "experienced" Returned Peace Corps Volunteers and apparently I fit into that category for peer education trainings. As part of the grad school application process (still awaiting news), I had been in communication with my old PC boss and one day he asked me about my interest in a PCResponse position. Seeing as I didn't have any concrete plans for the summer (or a plane ticket back to the US), I said sure! I will be returning to Senegal as a PCResponse Volunteer working as a Life Skills Facilitator in Thies with the NGO Plan International and probably assisting with aspects of the Pre-Service Training of the new Health and EE Trainees.

What's Life Skills? Well, it's a program developed by Peace Corps worldwide for training youth in such topics as self-confidence, good decision making, and reproductive health (mainly how to avoid early pregnancy, STIs, and HIV/AIDS). Along with Farba and several Stage-mates, I attended a Life Skills training program my first year as a PCV. My peer educator training in January 2010 was based off of some Life Skills models, though not a complete program. With Plan, I will help them develop a peer-educator program in Life Skills as part of a 4-year teen empowerment program (through health education and savings and loans programs). After a few months, another PCRV will arrive (and stay for a year) and we will work together to get the program off the ground. It's a really exciting project and directly in line with my career interests of health education and training. I will be based in Thies for the 5 months, but hope to make a few visits back to Ndiomdy as possible (but with the permission of my replacement so as to not edge her out as she's getting comfortable).

"So when do you go?" you may ask...soon. Like very soon...as in probably this week, Inchallah.

WHAT?!?! This week? "Aren't you still working in France?!" Yes, this week and I will be there through August. I'm currently waiting for Senegal to tell DC when they can "receive me in country" so DC can buy my ticket from Paris to Dakar. True, my contract in France is through the end of April, but with another 2-week spring vacation starting April 15 through the end of the month, and standardized testing in early April, (depending on when I fly out) I will only basically be missing 3 weeks or so with my students. And with my crazy messed up teaching schedule, that's less than one session with each group (not counting any canceled sessions for strikes/teacher illnesses/forgotten times with the Assistante). I spent the last several weeks mailing and faxing things to DC, getting stuck with vaccine updates, spending a lot of money on all of these things, and furiously sending emails for PC medical and legal clearance. I now have my PC passport back, with a new Senegal visa and lots of shots (which I kept in my fridge over the vacation and smelled like cheese when I gave them to the doctor to administer). It's a shame to have to leave a little early, but everyone here seems to understand that it makes more sense to leave France a little early than to miss out on a chance to return to Senegal and have something to do for the entire summer. Some teachers were a little sad, but several didn't even bat an eye or say anything more than "D'accord." They couldn't care less. Tant pis.

I'll be sad to leave Monica, Vir, Jie, Klara, and the many Dijon assistants, as well as many of the students, some teachers, and the town of Semur-en-Auxois, but am really looking forward to yet another African adventure, even if it will be during the hot and rainy seasons. I like Semur a lot and highly recommend it to people who want to see the true Burgundy countryside. Burgundy might not have a lot to offer, but the countryside is beautiful (esp in the sun and the fall), the food is great, the history fascinating, and the French accent fabulous (rolled Rs and high-pitched voices for old men). The past 6 months have definitely been an incredible learning experience and while my French still isn't perfect, it's much better and I'm more confident with it than I've ever been. I learned about teaching, France, myself, and much more. The school wasn't great, but I had company in Monika and the other assistants who more than made up for it. I couldn't have asked for a better roommate and I know that we will stay in touch (in the least so we can have travel destinations!).

So I don't know when I'm leaving, but it's soon, Inchallah. This weekend I have to finish getting things in order, start packing, and enjoy the all-too-rare Burgundy sun with some friends, perhaps for the last time. A good PCV friend is marrying her village sweetheart on Saturday in the village, but I sadly doubt I will be able to make it. Who knows though.

Needless to say, please don't send anything my way until I update with a new mailing address, probably the Training Center in Thies.

Always,

Bethany (soon-to-be Khady, again)

P.S. Please say some prayers for good news from grad school. I'm getting anxious in the waiting. Thanks!

A week ago, I convinced the girls that we didn't have anything to do in Semur and should thus spend a Saturday enjoying Paris. My reasons were mostly selfish: I had some friends visiting from town and knowing that my time here is winding up fast, I still had a few things that I still have never seen in Paris. Plus my walking shoes had just broken and I needed to buy new ones before going to Morocco in a week.

As we were leaving Semur at 5:45am to take the 18euro day ticket to Paris, I was expecting a great day and thought it would be fun to make a type of photo journal of my day. I knew I wasn't going to necessarily have a super Parisian day at the Eiffel Tower or anything, but realized how blessed I am to be able to hop a train 2 hours and hang out in Paris for 11 hours just about any Saturday I want (if I can get a ride to and from the station). The day turned out very little like what I had planned, bit of a bummer, but I still managed to take some pictures.

Moi, Moni, et Jie, on fait les betisesThe worst cup of coffee in Paris,

perhaps the world.Vir was sick and Klara was "economise-ing", so it was just Monika, Jie, and I for this trip into Paris. Small but good group. Things, however, quickly turned somewhat disappointing, beginning with perhaps the worst cup of coffee I have ever had, and on the Champs-Elysees no less!

Meeting up with friends turned into a bust. One friend, on vacay from the US with her husband and brother/sister-in-law, had my contact info but didn't get a chance to get in touch. The other friend, visiting from Belgium, was meeting up with her bf and our schedules didn't cross. In the last few days of the big winter soldes, I couldn't find a pair of sporty yet cute size 41 shoes that I liked enough to shell out 30+euros for. The Centre Pompidou, like much modern art, was both underwhelming and overwhelming and succeeded in somewhat depressing me. Zumba, while exercise and a free "trial" class, was less than stellar, in a class of Taiwanese novices (and a pregnant instructor?) where everyone spoke to each other in a language other than French or English. It was, suffice to say, a weird day. Highlights?

Le Petit PalaisPart of the permanent

collectionAfter our terrible machine-made coffee (made by girls I'm sure failed out of lycee pro), we stopped at the Petit Palais, a building remaining from the Parisian World's Fair that I had never checked out. They have a permanent collection we perused, but we were really there for a fabulous photography exhibit called "100 Photos" (or something like that) from Reporters Without Borders that focused on the lives of two famous photogs. The pictures showed everything from wars in Kosovo, Iraq, and Afghanistan, to celebrities and a look at Yves St Laurent's last show. It reminded me why I love photography and yet again made me sad I don't have a decent camera here or a chance to pursue my love of the medium. There were articles around in French and English, one of which was particularly interesting. It was from an old TIME magazine (I think), and it talked about how the French photographer was amazed when he first visited the US because all American women smile so freely and warmly, unlike anywhere in Europe. It provided insight into my own culture and how natural smiling is, but I know French (women, esp) get a bad rap for always looking so angry while Americans tend to look dopey. This article just talked about it being "refreshing." Who doesn't want to hear that?

Centre PompidouAfter enjoying the exhibit, I do what I normally do when we go to Paris,

which is separate and try and check out some new things and meet up with friends in town. Not the best decision this time. My eventual destination was the Centre Pompidou, via Les Halles/Chatelet and a chance to find a good sale on a new pair of shoes before going to Morocco. For various reasons, I basically avoided the winter soldes here in France. Twice a year the soldes take over the country with great and ridiculous deals on EVERYTHING. Not that I didn't want to enjoy them, after spending too much money this summer on random pieces of clothing, I didn't want to do the same, plus saving up for Morocco, and gearing up for other things. This Saturday was to basically be a purposeful exploration of the soldes, hitting up discount stores and a myriad of shoe stores, but in the end I walked away (mostly) empty handed. A few hours after parting from Monika and Jie, I arrived at the Pompidou, already somewhat frustrated, for my first look at the world of Parisian modern art.

View from the Pompidou,

looking out at the Sacre CoeurI made a similar mask in

elementary school that

hung in my room for 15 years,

but this one is world famous?I'll be honest, I normally stay away from modern art. It's not that I don't like it all, there's just a lot of it that I don't quite "get", or like many a culturally ignorant person, think if I had only stuck with art more seriously, I could do something better. There are obvious exceptions, but still. I instead normally choose to spend my time at the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, or other place where the images in the paintings are more discernable than I few brush strokes. In my many visits to Paris, including Summer 2006, I had never once entered the Pompidou because I didn't want to pay so much to see something I wasn't really that into. As an English Assistant, I have a fabulous Pass Education, which gets me into any national monument or museum gratuite, including the Pompidou--meaning that now is the time to see anything I haven't already. Honestly, I'm very glad I finally saw the Pompidou, but I'm also very glad that I didn't have to pay to see the permanent collection.

This is cool.The permanent collection at the Pompidou consists of two floors: the upper stuff a little bit older and perhaps more well-known and the lower very new stuff. There was some good works, some more thought-provoking, many disturbing pieces, and then others that just confused me (a video of a kid riding a bike?). Some exhibits were clever, like an awesome set of sculptures that were related to wine, but not in an obvious way. Many just kind of confused me. There were Picassos, Matisse, Salvador Dali, and many other famous modernists I knew of, but then hundreds upon hundreds of inconnu to me. As with any museum, I do what I can to see every piece and make sure I don't miss anything, but this may not be the best strategy because it only served to overwhelm and slightly depress me. It may have been the gray weather outside, my terrible shoes and heavy purse, disappointment about not meeting up with my friends, or something else. No matter, halfway through I was ready to be done, but forced myself to finish. There were some clever gems though.

Part of an exhibit about male-domination

in many art museums, very funny.Paints or an installation?

I'm not sure, but it still got

me thinking. For me, any art museum is a very introspective experience. As a child, I was very into art and even thought I might some day become an art teacher myself. I first loved painting and drawing, then watercolors, photography and collage, pastels, ceramics, mixed media, and dance. With the exception of a photography class in high school, I did very little art between middle school and discovering the art department at AU my junior year of college. I like to travel with pastels, but didn't bring any to France, and for much of this winter have felt my creative juices flowing with nowhere to go. I love getting into the photographer mindset and finding awesome shots, even with a teeny tired camera. Art museums, of all sorts, call out to that hidden artist in me that wishes I were brave and focused enough to pursue these interests more regularly. Even the Pompidou was no exception.

Kind of reminds me of a pediatrician's office After finally finishing the permanent collection (and noticing the crowds trying to get in, was glad I ate my sandwich en route and avoided the lines), I was feeling heavy-hearted and downtrodden. I passed a few more shoe stores, nothing, and one rando, discount department store where I walked in, saw a cute long dress for 5euros, and bought it without trying it on. It was screaming "perfect for warm weather!" :) It made me feel a little bit better, as was the idea of heading to a free Zumba class!

The dance studio for ZumbaMy last day trip to Paris, in January, was fabulous because I met up with my friend Danielle and we hit up a rockin' Zumba class in the shadows of Notre Dame, en francais, with real Frenchies, before meeting up with some AU people. I guess I was hoping for the same experience? The instructor had emailed me a few weeks prior to tell me about this free trial class and how to get there, which I was stoked about. It would be my last activity in Paris for the day and feeling slightly down about things, I knew Zumba would perk me up. It usually does.

The metro popped me out across town, in a residential neighborhood in the 13th. After walking through the rain past a sign that I assumed was where I was looking for but didn't look like what I was looking for, I called the instructor. Her husband picked up in French and I asked about the class. A few minutes later, Nisa opens the door and leads me up and down several series of stairs in an apartment/dance studio complex. We start chatting in English (she's Taiwanese and married to a Frenchie but doesn't really speak the language) about how funny exercise classes in France are, and then I start to put details together about the class as the other two students show up. Yes two. And I was the only non-Taiwanese, and just a foot shorter than the ceiling. I noticed Nisa rub her stomach a few times in that tell-tale way. Hmm, this was going to be interesting... In the end I enjoyed my free workout, but it was not nearly what I expected. We did perhaps 7 or 8 songs--definitely not the Healthbridge Zumba I am used to, but that's a blog for another day. The girls were very nice and I needed the bougement, but I don't really intend to go back and it didn't quite pull me out of my modernist art and rainy weather mood.

As the return train was going to depart in an hour, I headed back to the train station to meet up with Moni and Jie. Rather than go straight to the station out of the metro, I turned right on a search for a light dinner and BAM! I discovered the cheap eating section of the neighborhood, full of panini and crepe stands. The crepe man was super friendly and wished me a "Bonne soiree Mademoiselle," as he handed me my 1.90euro egg crepe. Perfect.

I grabbed a double row on the train for us and waited for the girls to get back. They had a less disappointing/more fruitful Paris voyage than I did, but I'm still glad we went. I saw two new museums I had never been to, met some new people though I will probably never see them, and developed a new appreciation for the ginormous Louvre. Not everyone can take a day trip to one of the world's cultural capitals, wander centuries old boulevards, and eat crepes, so that's pretty cool!

I'm pretty sure I'm making the Senegalese disagreement noise while wagging my finger, but why? I don't remember.

Right after the break, Christine (an English teacher) invited Vir, Monika, and I over for a traditional Bouche de Noel

So I guess I've been pretty terrible with actually updating or sharing anything interesting about life here in France. Maybe it was a mistake to keep the blog going, but I hope somewhere I can find something to write that others will find interesting (but then again, isn't that one of the "problems" with my generation...we all think that everyone should be interested in our lives? I was on the national news once about this). Then again, in many ways I feel like I don't have much "interesting" going on. Yes, I live abroad--in FRANCE!--but I've lived abroad 31 of the last 36 months so the "abroad thing" is relatively normal for me (which I am very blessed with).

Maybe it's a sort of writing stage fright. Many of my friends, as well as my sister, have incredible, interesting, and creative blogs out there and every entry is packed full of insightful cultural exchanges, humorous anecdotes, and/or delicious recipes. It's hard to compete with that.

There are definitely some cultural exchanges that can be strange or interesting here (strikes, bureaucracy, etc), but they don't necessarily merit blog entries. The amount of ridiculous things that happen in my life (outside of the way my lycee functions) has decreased exponentially since leaving Senegal. I don't feel the need to list what I do on a daily basis (wake up; eat breakfast, class, eat lunch, maybe more class or grocery store, workout, dinner, prep for class/waste time, bed) because I figure it's not that different from what (I imagine) life is like in the US. I'm a coffee fan but not a foodie, so I don't normally have recipes or cooking adventures to share (though there may be a blog about this subject in the near-ish future). Some of my silence has also come from some frustration with my job here, but that is the subject of a different post. Needless to say, I don't feel like I have much to share, nor do I know if anyone outside of my family still reads this blog.

On the other hand, I acknowledge I am doing something that many people around me have never done and I have an obligation to let them live vicariously through some of the ridiculous things in my life. I am trying to make a point to really experience life in Burgundy and take advantage of everything I can. Sometimes I mentally write blog posts while on a walk or run and it disappears the minute I get to my computer.

Instead, I will focus on some of the highlights from January, because it was a pretty good month:

January 8: day trip into Paris with the other Semur girls. Jie and I saw Harry Potter 7 (in English, finally) and the weather was nice. I met up with Danielle, a friend from my AU/Modern Times days who is doing grad work in Paris, and we hit up a Zumba class, in French! It was awesome and I really needed the chance to dance like a fool, Lord knows I don't get enough of that here! After the class, we met up with some more AU peeps: Alex, who is an assistant in Lyon and applying for the Peace Corps, and Beth, my freshman year French prof who I'm close with because she loves West Africa and we even met up in Dakar and Thies a year ago! The four of us grabbed coffees and hot chocolate, caught up, shared silly stories of cross-cultural adventures (and I shared quite a few adventures from my time in Senegal), and suddenly it was several hours later, rainy, and I had to meet the other assistants for the train back to Cote d'Or. Sure, I didn't really do much of anything truly "Parisian" but it was day that was good for the soul. I'll see the Pompidou next time :)

Jan 15-17: Three full days in a row of sunshine and warmish weather, started when I submitted my last grad school application! I took a lot of walks outside, including an 8km hike around a man-made lake just outside of town. I was in a great mood the entire weekend and tried to absorb as much natural sunlight as possible. That weekend we also checked out the only bar in town on Friday night, went to a Beethoven/Brahams classical concert at the theater, and saw the showing of To Kill a Mockingbird at the movie theater. I started the week asking all of the students what they did over the weekend, hoping for stories of outside adventures. What did I hear instead? "I stayed at home and played my XBox/game console/facebook/computer." Gah!

Jan 20: I worked early and late, but finally made a morning stop to the Senegalese-owned cafe in Semur, called the Cafe des Arts. I found it my first weekend in Semur but felt too poor to visit it the first few months. I quickly made friends with the saisai Senegalese server and the owner, both of them finding it hysterical I gave them my Senegalese name instead of my American name and we chatted for a bit in French and Wolof. The irony? I forgot my wallet, haha! They let me go on the promise I would be back again very soon (and I was within the week for attaaya and thiakry!). My lycee pro kids sang happy birthday without my prompting and then after my step aerobics class, Monika and the other assistants had a somewhat surprise dinner party for me. They invited a few of the teachers and made a delicious dinner (cheese pastries, schnitzel, two types of potato salad, and a chocolate hazelnut cake, plus plenty of Burgundy cremante and German white wine). People shocked me with sweet gifts and sent me to bed feeling loved.

On the walk to Mont St MichelJan 27-30: Monika, Vir, and I hopped a few trains to go north and spend the weekend in Normandy. We stayed with Vir's friend and fellow Argentinian assistant, Sabrina in Cherbourg. We didn't have time to visit the D-Day beaches in the area, or the museum in town (all were closed the month of January), but had the chance to explore the city and enjoy the gastronomic specialties of the area: crepes, gallettes (salty, similar to crepes), and cider. We took one day to head to Mont St Michel (one of my goals for the year!) and were blessed with sun and minimal crowds (plus free entrance!). There was a lot of train time, but with good company and a good book, we had a great weekend!

Monika blowing out the candles

on her tiramisuJan 31: Monika's 23rd birthday. I planned and cooked a Mexican fiesta with burritos and all the finishings (meat, beans, cheese, peppers, rice, guac, salsa, chips, etc) as well as margaritas! Klara made a delicious tiramisu, Vir and Jie came, and our favorite teacher and his wife. Monika was gifted with lots of cheese and chocolate :)

I finally gave in and purchased more storage for my Picasa albums. I had been avoiding finding a new photo hosting site and trying to get a new Picasa one to work was also frustrating, but I feel bad not being able to share my pictures with people. They aren't super amazing, but I'm trying to get better, even though my camera is still tired after two years in West Africa.

Ok, that's all I've got for you right now. I'll try to get some more interesting posts up very soon!

Vir and I reading Jane Austen on the way back from a day in Paris

(totally unrelated to this post)

Some of my blog silence lately has come from frustration with my job here and being overly aware about how much I've already complained about the disorganization, too many students, and general functioning (or not) of the lycee. I'm grateful, I really am, and so hate when I find myself complaining with the other assistants or friends. This post is pretty honest about my job (I'm not even going to get started on the apartment...), just be warned; I'm not really looking for sympathy, just wanting to share my experience with anyone out there.

Back up: I am the only English assistant at the high school (lycee) here in Semur. There is another English assistant that works at the primary school but no one for the middle schools. There are assistants for both German and Spanish classes at the lycee and middle school. All students are required to take English class throughout middle and high school and then choose from Spanish or German in addition. Also, the lycee is technically comprised of two schools: the professional (think technical skills and hospitality) and the general (regular studies, more like a US high school). There are 5 English teachers at the general school and 3 at the professional school, plus a handful of other teachers dedicated to subjects like business and teach in English, but I can't work with them. I work with 37 or so different groups of 10-17 students, which amounts to almost 500 students. However, I am only legally allowed to work 12 hours a week. Doesn't quite add up does it? Well, it works out that I see each student about every 4-6 weeks for 50 minutes. Some I work with some every 2 weeks for 25 minutes ("Hello, what did you do this weekend? Oh, class is over already, go back to your teacher!") Doesn't make sense does it? Nope. One week ago, I worked with a group of students for the first time EVER--it was the middle of January, but due to my ridiculous schedule, holidays, and testing, we only just met. Ridic.

When organizing my schedule, the English teachers basically just gathered all of their classes and divided my time in a way so as many students as possible get to "work" with me, which might be good and promote equality in some ways but proves to be completely ineffective and a waste of time. I don't have a partner teacher and never actually work with the teachers (at the general school). I work on my own with a bunch of sophomores, tons of juniors, and just a few groups of seniors. For the most part, the sophomores and juniors are nice and somewhat interested in participating but the seniors are, for lack of better words, the bottom of the barrel--a step above the pro school but not taking the same bacc (exam) as the rest of the seniors (whom I do NOT work with). Some aren't even being tested in English. When I asked to work with the seniors being tested in English as well as the classes of juniors specifically studying English (they have an extra few hours of English instruction each week, by CHOICE), I was told that I "don't have the right" because it wouldn't be "fair to the others." For the record, most other English assistants in the region work with these groups that I'm not allowed to. Yea, I don't understand it either.

Do I work hard and try to plan interesting and culturally-relevant lessons in English that the students will learn from and maybe enjoy? Yes. Do I think the students I see once a month for 50 minutes actually retain much that helps their English in the long term? No.

Instead, I have to focus on my students perhaps gaining a bit of cross-cultural awareness. They walked away from the Thanksgiving lessons knowing that we eat a strange dish called pumpkin pie and watch football, which is something, but I doubt it ultimately helped their English levels. The same goes for my lessons on MLK Jr, Shel Silverstein (I taught the students the words "aint," "wanna," and "gonna" and we reviewed other contractions), and French-American stereotypes. I think many of the students like coming to my class because it's something different from their regular lessons and I usually stand in front of the group acting ridiculous in an attempt for them to understand what I'm saying [through this I am also gaining a deeper appreciation of my high school French teacher]. After years on the SEAS mission team and Senegal, I don't have a problem with being a little silly and getting people to laugh with me. They seem to enjoy the silly pronunciation exercises and tongue twisters I give them and are amazed when I explain about the costs of university in America. After a funny class on US-France stereotypes, the German assistant ( my roommate, Monika) overheard one of the students saying "Vraiment, l'assistante d'Anglais est franchement cool!" (apparently I'm really cool, haha!) This was a great compliment and made me smile about my silliness, but I wish I felt like I was actually able to help them improve their English rather than just being "cool."

After having such a positive, though difficult, but ultimately extremely productive Peace Corps service, it has been frustrating to find my attempts somewhat blocked here in France, without anyone much caring. Relationships and community are important to me, which I think is part of why seeing the same students so rarely is tough for me. Not seeing the students very often means it's hard to get them to open up to me and real discussions are that much harder to come by.

For the record, I think that most of the English teachers are very nice, and a few I truly like a lot. I know whose students are the most motivated and excited to work with me (though I see them less often than I wish) and I am genuinely sad that I rarely get to see them. I started a kind of English club discussion group (off my contract) as an opportunity to see some of these students more often. We sit around and chat about n'importe quoi, which I really enjoy because it allows us to all relax a little and get to know each other.

I'm glad that I came here and tried out the job. The town is great as are the other assistants. However, I will have a lot of feedback and suggestions for the teachers, lycee, and rectorat (kind of like the regional district) about how to make the work of the English assistant in Semur a little more effective (two assistants, or just one or two levels of students at a time, more frequently). This has definitely been a learning experience and is getting me excited to hopefully start grad school in the fall (prayers for that please!).

D'accord, that's all I've got for you!

I posted these same questions at the end of 2008, which was the year I left DC and joined the Peace Corps. 2010 was just as much an important year of change as 2008, just not quite always so happy. The year was dominated by being in Senegal, leaving my village, attending some weddings in the US and working at a coffeehouse, and arriving in France. It has been tough to mentally marry all of the experiences into the same 12 month period, balancing them all without focusing on one more than the others, which I don’t think I was always successful with. Sorry to those of you who had to deal with my moods readjusting to life and thanks for your support. I try to remember that every experience is a chance to learn and grow and makes us who we are.

Most Focussed Period

January through the end of April, my last few months in the village and last chance to accomplish things before COS. I hosted a few HIV/AIDS education classes, a weekend-long peer educator training, fenced in the women’s garden, attempted to protect the trees around the school (for the 3rd and final time), formed a village hygiene committee, worked with students in the school garden, COS Conference and WAIST, continued my PST work, traveled to a few different places, enjoyed time in the village with Baby James and friends, hosted my replacement, finally published the Serere-English Dictionary, and realized that 2 years was not nearly enough time.

Most "No way! Is That Real?" Moment

Packing up my hut and leaving the village.

Sunset in Dogon Country, MaliOr, standing on top of the plateau in Dogon Country, Mali, admiring the scenery below as the sun set, taking pictures, drinking millet beer with friends, and realizing that I didn’t want to leave West Africa. And then having a crazy thunder storm blow in that night while we were sleeping on the roof of the campement, and had to protect ourselves underneath our sheets. Those kinds of things don't happen in the US.

And also the time I had to lecture a guy in Serere, on Easter night, for taking us on a hoax of hyenna search, lying, being incredibly rude, and trying to take our money. I had never expressed myself so strongly before, in any language, and my friends could do nothing but stare on (because they didn’t speak Serere). I was incredibly angry and also really impressed with my language skills :)

Lowest Point

The morning of April 22, when I was loaded onto a charret with about 25kg of peanuts and a few possessions and driven out of the village, my family members and I all crying. It was so much more difficult than arriving in my little Senegalese village two years before. I was proud of my work and felt very loved but wasn't ready to close that chapter in my life. Fortunately I was able to spend the entire afternoon in Kaolack watching Glee and then headed to Mali the next day.

Best Feeling

My last days and weeks in the village, the prayers, gifts, and well wishes people sent me off with. Knowing that my village and my boss considered my service a success and that people actually cared about me. The songs, dances, and prayers the Ndiomdy women did for me was overwhelming.

Also awesome: Easter Vigil mass in Palmarin, where I heard the Word of God proclaimed in Serere. The entire mass was in Serere, though as the only visitors, we were greeted in French. However, I understood the priest's Serere words more than any mass I had ever attended in French or Wolof. The music was incredible and I even recorded part of it, plus the holiday was spent with a good friend and a new friend.

Most Pivotal Moment

Getting on the plane in Dakar to return to the US, knowing that I wanted to extend but feeling like I was already too obliged to things in the US. Attempting to accept that a new chapter in my life was being written and realizing that things would never be the same, while also planning my return, hopefully in the next few years.

Most Humbling Experience

My village sisters trying my Kraft

Mac&CheeseThe love I felt from my village when I left, and every time that I have called them since. Knowing I made Senegalese men (and women) cry when I left made me realize that they cared as much about me as I them. Knowing that it was relatively "easy" for me to leave, but most of the people in my village can never imagine leaving to go to Dakar or Kaolack, let alone across the ocean, and life would stay more or less the same in Ndiomdy for the next several decades.

Favorite Weekend

Either COS conference/WAIST in Senegal, which was more than just a weekend. It was my last time to hang out with my stage (the group of PCVs who arrived with me in March 2008) and many people from the region. The week included good food and great friends, a choreographed Bollywood dance routine (dream come true!), lots of dance parties, and memories without words.

With Leslie and ZaneOr driving down with Lori to Jenna and Wes’ St Louis wedding. The wedding was fun, it was great staying with Lori’s friend Katy, and I saw my dear friends Leslie and Mike Dallas for the first time in over 5 years, and met their new son. So much amazingness in one weekend!

Toughest Day At Work

The day after my 25th birthday, going into Kaolack to purchase fencing supplies for the Ndiomdy women’s garden. After a day spent purchasing and haggling over prices, the terrible car we had to rent (since the community truck was in a terrible accident the week before) broke down on the outskirts of Kaolack, I had to pay the repairs and for several cars just to get us back to the village, WITHOUT the supplies. I didn’t get home until midnight, angry at the world, and the supplies didn’t arrive until more than 24 hours later, in the dark. It then took the men of the village three months to (improperly) install the new fencing. A lot of angry words and protesting got them to mostly fix it in my last week, but there were still a few things not totally completed when I left the village. The women told me it wasn’t my fault, but the men’s, and that they were happy to be able to garden again because they never thought it would happen, but I was disappointed in the way things turned out. I would really LOVE to see the state of the garden now, and what tasks were completed. I did it for the women however and not myself.

Most Satisfying Day At Work

Realizing that my peer educator training weekend was a success (though stressful and exhausting in the planning and implementation) when the 42 trained high school students started leading their own health sessions at their schools without and prodding from me, and really took leadership roles in their communities. Knowing that I started something that will hopefully continue and spread, making an impact across a generation in the Djilor area. One can hope. It also helped me realize that my future is in public health training, specifically in health educator training.

Longest Wait

4 Months: the time between returning from Senegal and heading to France, killing time working at the coffeehouse and going to the gym.

Most I-Can't-Believe-I-Just-Got-Away-With-That Moment

Getting back into France after Emily and Brian’s wedding, without the immigration guy caring that I didn’t yet have a “titre de sejour.” In fact, he didn’t even look at my visa, just studied my 10-year old passport picture. I had spent the first three weeks in France panicking and obsessing about not being allowed back in the country, talking to different government offices, and email harassing people, being told I probably wouldn’t get back in. In the end, the immigration guy didn’t even care. What a waste of time. I then had to fight my way through a country of striking train workers, teachers, and oil refineries to make it back to my little Burgundy town. I spent less than 4 days out of France.

Highest Point

Knowing that going to Senegal was the right decision, that I did a good job, and that I will always have the love of my village.

Also, giving the Maid of Honor speech at my best friend’s wedding, knowing that the French bureaucracy trouble and expenses was worth it to be able to celebrate with Em and Brian.

2010 was definitely a rollercoaster year, so what will 2011 hold? Roog soom a andu, Only God knows, but hopefully it will be on the up and up. It will definitely be yet another year of new adventures, of that I'm sure!

Bonjour tout le monde!

Below is a random compilation of numbers representing the past year in my life, in mostly random order. It was a year of difficulty and change, laughter and dancing, great friends both old and new, family in the US and Senegal, learning a new job (not the coffee one), and frustrations and victories. A year that changed my outlook on life and goals for the future. A year of discovering new places and rediscovering old ones. A year when the lives of many around me changed with new and expanding families while I used a machete to forge my own path through the forest of life (to quote from my favorite middle school teacher). It was also a year when I finally realized that wherever I am, I am far away from most of the people I love, which gave me a surprising amount of peace and freedom in what I do and where I go. I have no idea where 2011 will take me, but that's half the fun! And now,

2010, A Year in Numbers

Number of…Transatlantic flights: 4Non-ocean crossing flights: 9Weddings: 4Bridesmaid dresses: 2Money spent calling Senegal on Skype: $90New jobs: 2Residences: 3, on 3 separate continentsMonths lived outside of the US: 8Grand total: 36Countries spent time in: 8 (Senegal, The Gambia, Mali, USA, France, Germany, Austria, and Spain)Currencies used: 4 ($, euro, cfe, dalasi)Sunny days: 190Cloudy/rainy days: 120 (NOT in Senegal)Days with my sister: 5?, but definitely not nearly enoughGroup fitness classes attended: 65 (or thereabouts, Zumba, Body Jam, Body Flow, Yoga, Sh’Bam)Text messages sent: 1,023, perhaps (Mostly to other PCVs in Senegal)Blog updates: 19Hours spent in transit: at least 351 (that’s 14.625 straight days)Wine drank: I would rather not comment on how many bottles JTypes of cheese consumed: 30 or soCups of chai tea drank: 172Lattes served: a few thousandVisitors hosted: 7 (all PCVs, in 3 different countries)Languages used: 6 (4 frequently)Student leaders trained: 42Gardens worked in: 5Kilometers walked: probably a few hundred, if not moreDance parties: far too fewPackages sent to Senegal: 4, plus several lettersPackages received from all over: 10, I think, but the kindness has boggled my mindMini RPCV reunions: 4 (Chicago x2, Baltimore, Semur)Pairs of legwarmers: 2English teachers I "work with" in France: 8 (supposed to be 9)Different groups of English students: 40Total students: about 520Serere wrestling matches: 4Trips to DC: 2Friend couples with new babies: 4Hours spent people watching: 101European Christmas markets: 9New countries I really want to visit: 5 (Morocco, Turkey, Sierra Leone, Chile, Burkina Faso, as well as anywhere else someone wants to send me)

Also...

Favorite discovery: Zumba, it’s such a fun and freeing dance exercise and one of the few things that kept me from going absolutely nuts this past summer. If only there was a Zumba class here in Semur…People of the Year: It's a TIE! Farba Diouf. He was my Batman in Senegal, always helps PCVs and other foreigners, enjoys a good laugh, and demonstrates true Senegalese teranga. Since leaving, he still calls me on occasion just to say hi and check in. He’s a great person with a true commitment to his family and community. My second year of PC service would have been entirely different without him around. My dad, for being the backbone of the entire extended family, always helping me out so much from abroad, and going back to school for a degree in Accounting. I’m so proud of you! (and don't be upset about the shout-out here!)

More posts coming soon, Inchallah.

(written the week after Thanksgiving, slightly out of date...)For almost as long as I can remember, I helped my Grandma set up her "Dicken's Village" at Christmas. For those of you not aware, Dicken's are a set of elaborate miniature houses and buildings the likes of what many suburban mothers put up to form a Christmas village under the tree, in a windowsill, or up on a bookshelf, just more expensive. There are houses and shops of all shapes and sizes, figurines selling everything from pheasants to flowers, horse-drawn carts (quite unlike Senegalese charettes), iceskaters and small children, a plethora of tree varieties, snow-covered stone paths and walls, and anything else you can think of to convey the imagery of a small English town at Christmastime (or London, around the time of Charles Dickens).

One of the towers and the

"curiosity shop"I spent many afternoons during the early Christmas season helping my Grandma create elaborate country, town, and city scenes with her figurines. We used seran wrap to create streams under bridges, styrofoam to add height and dimensions, and cotton to look like freshly fallen snow. I remember my sister and I occassionally using the figurines like Barbie dolls, creating elaborate stories for them, especially the quaint farm scene (that always had a place at child's eye level underneath Uncle Kenny's coffeetable). The scenes took up her entire house--on bookshelves, under tables, as center pieces on tables normally reserved for eating--anywhere! We always had a lot of fun brainstorming where to put pieces and I know she was sad when I got too busy to spend much time on them when I got to high school.

Homes along the river, complete with

stone wallIt's been snowing in Semur on and off for about a week now, and sticking (which means it's cold!). While out for a "run" this week down by the Armacon River which cuts through town, I suddenly felt transported into the miniature villages of my childhood. Semur, with it's old Burgundian architecture, flowing river, and snow covered stone walls was suddenly the personification of the Dicken's village (except without all of the Oliver Twist-esque aspects of 19th Century London). Below are some shots, let me know what you think:

What a classic country lane!Snow draped rooftops Looking up on the church from the riverOk, so the French winter sky is always really gray, so the pictures aren't as beautiful as I would like, but oh well.

Update: after a week of nonstop rain, the snow is back. It's still a little gray, but much better than the dreary start to December. I hope you are all getting in the Holiday spirit, wherever you may be!

on y danse, on y danse. Sur le pont d'Avignon, on y danse tout en ronde."

I'll admit, I'm a pretty terrible francophile. Sure, I've been speaking French for something like 11 years, spent a summer in Paris, and graduated from college with a Certificate in Translation (meaning that through the litterature heavy AU French Dept I had read several French authors), but I don't actually know that much about France, the different regions, or various current political or cultural figures (historical, sure, covered that in Paris). While applying to this Assistantship program, I had to ask friends and basically googled the different regions, somewhat randomly choosing rural areas over some of the more industrial or famous parts of the country. A shame? Maybe, but I've obviously become more interested in Africa in recent years and Belgium has always held my Western European interests (and Sweden my northern interests).

I had vaguely heard of Avignon when Monika suggested we visit it during our 5 day weekend in early November, but I couldn't totally place it at first. A quick Rick Steve's check reminded me it's the city of the French popes and has a famous bridge, but that's about it.

A look down on old AvignonAvignon is a very cool city, the old heart of which is held behind the ancient town walls. It is a university town in southern France and a lot edgier than dear old Burgundian Dijon, in part to the interesting mix of cultures that comes from its location closer to the Mediterranean Sea. I was pleasantly surprised when I kept forgetting I was actually in France and not Italy, between the popes, paintings, and good ol' Roman ruins. Famous Avignon souvenirs include lavender, soap, fabric, and the multi-purpose Herbes de Provence (which we have learned this year can be used in everything from quiche to squash soup, chili, and Thanksgiving stuffing), none of which I purchased.

 Le Pont du Gard We stayed with some nice German university students and visited such famous sites as the Palais des Papes, Musee de la Petit Palais (sacred art, including a Botticelli), the Pont St Benezet (the famous bridge), the Pont du Gard (old Roman acqueduct you've seen in your high school French books, a bit outside of town), the opera (a first for me! We saw Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte), and the Roman ampitheater in Orange on the way back. The biggest let down was that the museums in Avignon are all operated by a private company, meaning we couldn't get in free with our "Pass Education" which allow free entrance into all public museums and monuments (like the Louvre). Lameness, so we were forced to use our university student IDs get some discounts on entrance.

Part of the Palais des Papes,

but it's too big to get in one

picture. Cool lighting tho!While I never learned the famous song as a child growing up (thanks, Mom!), it's famous enough to have been dedicated as a UNESCO World Heritage site solely for it's role in the song (and not for it's architectural success as the bridge has been more than half destroyed by the Rhone River).

In front of the beautiful cathedral

for the PopesAnyways, it was a good trip and I'm glad we were able to make the most of a 6-day weekend before the cold set in.

A very happy and slightly belated Thanksgiving to all of the readers out in blogland!

Thanksgiving or Christmas? The snow started Thursday early afternoon and continued on and off most of the weekend. I thought this was clever and complex,

yet not too difficult for my

oldest students to figure out.Every holiday celebration is slightly different (or extremely different in my case) and Thanksgiving 2010 was no different. Since my job here in France is to use American culture to teach French students the (American-)English language, Thanksgiving was an obvious choice for two weeks worth of class lessons. Like my fellow American assistants, I spent the week prior researching a little on the background of Thanksgiving, as well as debating how to best include (or not include) some of the more culturally-sensitive aspects of Thanksgiving. Having participated in many an elementary school Thanksgiving feast (including being a chosen reader in a Thanksgiving skit that would no longer be considered culturally appropriate), I had a lot of memories but needed a brush-up. After scouring the internet for various lesson plan ideas, stories, and whatnot (some ok, many terrible), I decided it would be best to brush over some of the sensitive aspects and focus on what Thanksgiving has become today in America (having not participated in a US Thanksgiving in 3 years, I'm not really "up" on US culture, but whatevs). Instead of the fateful first interactions between the Pilgrims and Native Americans (including Squanto who's story I am now fully versed on), I focused on four aspects: 1. Family (and friends), 2. Food; 3. Football (and the Macy's parade), and 4. Being Thankful.

I prepped a few different lessons, based on the grade level but all very similiar and was pleasantly surprised when they were mostly well-received by the students. While I'm not sure if they understood everything, they all know that we eat turkey and pumpkin pie (which they think is a disgusting idea), watch football/the parade, and most get that we like to be with family and friends. A few students and teachers even understood that it's hard to be away from family/friends/other Americans for the holiday, and asked me if I was sad, which was sweet. Some may have even understood the idea "to be thankful for", because I asked them about it, but it's a much harder idea to get through their heads than the idea of a "large chicken" and lots of other types of food. Whatever, it worked and put me in a great mood all week and helped get me into the spirit of Thanksgiving (even though I had to work on Thursday). A small, typical French ovenWhile in America for the Derlunas wedding, I planned ahead and purchased two cans of Libby's pumpkin in anticipation of perhaps being brave enough to do a Semur Thanksgiving. A few weeks prior, I chickened out of everything except pumpkin pie due to the small size of our kitchen and my busy Thursdays. However, as I was prepping the lessons, I got brave again and talked to the other American assistant in Semur, Jie, and we decided to get our international group of girls together for a Thanksgiving. We had 4 countries represented (or perhaps 7, depending how you want to think of it) and had people bring dishes.

Monika had difficulty carving the chicken,

so Vir was called in to help (not the

US Americans)We didn't have a turkey due to the size of our tiny oven, but Vir and Anne (Argentina and France) made a delicious apple glazed chicken; Jie (the US, China) made mashed potatos, gravy, and chesnuts; Monika (Germany, Bolivia) made the beans and whipped cream, and provided the wine; and I introduced the girls to pumpkin pie. (Klara, also from Germany, arrived in time for dessert, armed with delicious sparkling peach wine.) It was quite the feast!



Thanksgiving Semur-style

Myself, Anne, Vir, and Jie.

(Monika took the picture and Klara had not yet arrived.)

Not the prettiest pie ever, but I nearly

melted tasting it, yummy!

Even though I didn't have Thanksgiving Day off, I was still able to benefit from a long weekend since I always have Fridays off. A bunch of the American assistants located in Dijon wanted to get together and celebrate Thanksgiving, so after submitting my first grad school application of the year, I "quickly" baked another pie and hopped on the bus. I arrived to the setting-up of the Dijon Christmas market and spent an enjoyably long evening with other North Americans conversing over some great food. (I didn't take any pictures though because there were about 5 or 6 other cameras constantly snapping and didn't find it necessary, sorry people.) We played a fun game similar to taboo where I discovered how out of touch I am with French culture and government, being more of a franco-afrophile than a true francophile, which I am mostly okay with. It was a great evening and I really appreciated being a non-Dijoner invited to celebrate with those based in the city itself. Thanks to Taya for hosting the large group of us, Sarah for letting me stay at her place for the night, and Erica for grabbing coffee with me when I arrived several hours before the start of the dinner. It was also a great opportunity to discuss travel possibilities with some others who are up for something a little more exciting than Western Europe...

And now, since it is (or was) Thanksgiving, I guess I should mention some of the things that I am Thankful for this year:All of the people who have sent me cards and letters in the past month, especially the Thanksgiving cards. A big thanks for the three packages that arrived this week from Jen, Emily, and Bob and Margaret, especially the homemade cranberry banana breadters in the past month, especially the Thanksgiving cards. A big thanks for the three packages that arrived this week from Jen, Emily, and Bob and Margaret, especially the homemade cranberry banana bread and all of the chai tea, AMAZING! Thanks for all of the love and kindness, even when I sometimes feel silly asking for things while living in a developed country.To my parents and everyone else who continue to support my crazy ideas and inability to stay in the same place or country for too long, in the midst of the crazy economic annoyances and massive student loans, especially with everything else they have to take care of. You guys are champs and God has a special spot in heaven for you. Thank you for your love and support.My sister who I only seem to see once a year but who my students already think is cooler than I am because she is working so hard at something she loves and her bands will be huge some day. Though she couldn't make it to Senegal, hopefully she can make it to France. She, and several other friends, are inspiring me to start "running" (err, attempt to). Maybe someday I will be able to do a 5km, but at least now I can do something since I don't have Zumba or Healthbridge.For all of my friends and family in Senegal. I talked to many of them a few weeks ago for Tabaski and swelled with love as they passed the phone around, sending blessings and offers of sheep meat my way. I miss them more than words can say and can't wait to return, hopefully sooner rather than later. Amidst my frustrations and difficulties over the 27 months, they taught and loved me so much and I genuinely miss my crazy life with them in Ndiomdy (and Thies).For my job here in Semur-en-Auxois. The town is super adorable and though I might not love the job and the school might not be the most organized/functional, it's still a job that at least pays a little. It has already shaped part of where my life is going (or more, where it's not going...) and I've met some great people and I know there will be some fun adventures in our future. I have an apartment and though it's freezing, at least I have someone to share it with and fight for better heating--and we get along!Tying in to the above, I am thankful for all of the amazing and crazy experiences I've had and will have. After life in DC, the city of world travelers, I sometimes forget that things like study abroad, alternative break, mission trips, the Peace Corps, and other types of global work are NOT actually normal for most people. When my students asked me where I've traveled, they were shocked that I've been to 39 US states and over 20 countries! I had never even thought about that until they asked, but I've been blessed with some cool and ridiculous jobs and opportunities to learn more about the world in the hope of making it a better place some day. Little by little. O ndang o ndang.For the $6 Target leggings I bought prior to coming which have already played an important role as long underwear/layers and the newly purchased 5euro H&M legwarmers. I may fantasize about the days when I woke up sweating in my hut instead of shivering curled up with my computer next to the radiator, but at least I have things to layer. There's so much more I could include, but I will stop there.

So please check out this video shout out to Peace Corps Senegal and their work with Malaria No More (Ed Helms is from The Office if you think he looks familiar). While I never did one of their mosquito net distributions, many of my friends did and I worked with other distributions and on lots of other types of Malaria prevention education. (Check out my blog entry about Neem Lotion from November 2009: http://pcbeth.blogspot.com/2009/07/fighting-malaria-1-bar-of-soap-at-time.html)

Ok, here's the video. Yea Peace Corps!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcCV0uGqMVI

(btw Comedians Against Malaria? Whatever, as long as it helps combat the spread of this controllable disease.)

So prior to my brief US sejour, I spent a fabulous afternoon in a tiny village an hour or so away from Semur, visiting the family of some friends here (the parents of the host mom of two of the assistants--her name is Odile). They live in an old agricultural village, have fields, several gardens, animals, and a tiny vineyard. We were invited to help with their recolt, which is done by hand in a long afternoon because the vineyard is so small. This was one of my favorite days so far in France because the weather was gorgeous and it gave me a chance to get back outside, in the sun, and working in a garden. Hopefully this day was just the start of my Burgundy wine-o education :)

  We went up and down the steep rows, filling up buckets, emptying them in large barrels, and refilling them, all the while munching on fresh grapes right off the vine. After a tough few hours in the sun, we stopped and drank fresh grape juice and ate soft cheese and cookies. So French. It was perfect.

After returning to the farmhouse with the loot of grapes, the men started separating the fruit from the woody bits, and the other assistants and I followed Odile to check out the four massive gardens here parents (in their 80s!) still work. If only the people from Ndiomdy could see these gardens! Every household had at least one and most weren't even fenced in because animals such as goats, sheep, and cows are penned in and not allowed to run rampant (novel concept for the Senegalese!). The largest garden was still full of carrots, varieties of cabbage, winter lettuce, spinach, and so many different types of leafy vegetables that I had to keep asking about. We drained two of the gardens of any of the ripe varieties of squash we could find, from zuccini to pumpkin-like orange globes to miniature flying saucers, butternuts, spaghetti squash, random gourds, and even a few renegade cucumbers.

Just one part of one of the many gardens, one of our more than 6 full barrels of squash, and me, excited to be outside, in a garden, and wearing flipflops again.

  We finished the day with homemade pumpkin soup, the first of many episodes of squash soup this fall :)



So though I have a lot to say about France right now, here's an article a fellow Senegal RPCV (now hanging out in Chile, then coming to France in January) posted.

Some of my faves: Sorkhna, Rose, and Awa

Giving African Girls a Chance to Learn

A lot of my Kaolack PCV friends worked with this organization, 10,000 Girls, while I was in Senegal, in varying degrees. I never did because my schedule was pretty insane, as you know, but I always heard remarkable things about their work.

One paragraph especially stuck out to me.

"I researched the whys and wherefores of the little girls' educational failures. I found that of every 60,000 girls who enter first grade, only 4,500 finish primary school in the region of Kaolack. Of those 4,500 students entering middle school, only 1,500 will enter high school. Five hundred will graduate with a high school diploma, 150 will enter university, and 15 will receive their university degree."

15. If a girl fails primary school two years in a row she is kicked out. Or if she turns 15 in primary school, she is also kicked out at the end of the year. It may sound old, but I knew many 14 and 15 year old girls who had delayed education and thus in the equivilent of 4th grade towered over some of their 9 year old classmates. But they were still in school and that's what mattered. They wanted to be there.

Mbarrou, Adama, Absa, Bigue, Ndiaye, Jambar, Fatou Khady, Jabu, Awa, Ndeye, Siga, Rose, Sauce, Ami, Sorkhna, Rhoky, Mame Gnilan, Fatou, Codou, Congo, and these are just some of the girls who touched my heart and who may never finish their studies, and probably don't even dream of making it through university as I have. That's more than 15 names right there. Maybe 5 or 6 of them will get to high school, and hopefully at least a few of them will graduate. Absa's mom almost finished high school (making her the highest educated woman in Ndiomdy), so she has a higher chance of attending and hopefully completing high school as well, but the other girls? Most of their mothers can't even read French.

[I'm so proud of these girls and love them so much, which is part of why I organized and led activities at area schools, to help keep them there. I hope that someday the French students I work with will realize how blessed they are as well, instead of striking.]

What can be done? I don't know and this entry isn't a chance for me to get on a soapbox to preach about the plight of my beloved village nieces and what we need to do--it's just to spread knowledge and appreciation of how blessed we are.

The girls' mater watering team in the garden. They put the boys' teams to shame.

Just another thing to be thankful for this November.

Soooo sorry, I guess my promised update about life never showed up...things have been interesting, that's for sure. I'm in the process of a few different posts, but here's a quick update on some random things since my last post.

I've met almost all of the 8 English teachers I'm supposed to be working with (8 teachers, 12 hours...interesting!) and only met about half of the students due to tests, teacher strikes, a quick US trip, and a week of student strikes. The teachers (and everyone else in town) are very nice, though I must admit that I'm at a loss for what to do with the students. I've got some ideas, but still have no clue what their levels are.My apartment is freezing cold. On nice days like today, is noticeably colder inside than outside. W e are trying to figure out what to do because our tiny space heaters suck electricity and the school refuses to turn on the radiator. I will be drinking a lot of tea and eating a lot of soup this winter. Pictures of the apartment coming soon, hopefully (see below).I spent a quick 4 days out of France to be the Maid of Honor in Brian and Emily Derlunas' wedding in Gettysburg, PA. It was a beautiful wedding and everything went swimmingly, though there was a serious possibility that I would not be allowed back in France after because I'm still in the process of getting my visa validated. I spent two weeks contacting everyone under the sun, in France and the US, in order to obtain a return visa or find someone who could tell me I would be allowed back (people here were telling me just to "forget it" and not be "too disappointed," which was not a possibility). In the end, as usually happens, the border police did not even glimpse at my visa, just looked at my picture and stamped a random page. Worrying about this issue occupied about two full weeks of my life and thus nothing else got taken care of. Oh, and due to national train and metro strikes, I barely got to Paris for the flight and barely made it back to my town. Too close for comfort.I spent an awesome Saturday afternoon picking grapes in a small vineyard an hour away and then picking squash in some gardens. Incredible. There are lots of pictures and hopefully a post coming about that.There's neither gym nor Zumba in Semur, so I'm trying to develop an exercise routine. The Maison Pour Tous (kind of like a community rec center) has a Thursday night step aerobics class which my German roommate, Monika, and I tried. Though I extremely dislike step aerobics, it was good to sweat and do something physical, plus it's not too expensive if I sign up for the whole year. The biggest problem? The instructor has the workout "choreographed" to music from 1999 and worst of all, can't hear the beat or cues in the music so instructs people to move against the beat. For this lifelong dancer, it's obvious and obnoxious. But it's something to do, so I might just keep up with it.Last week the students were on strike and now we are on Toussaints Holiday (a 10-day holiday for All Saints' Day) until November 4. I spent the past few days in Dijon with some other assistants, exploring, hiking, and drinking tea. If I lived there, it would be dangerous financially :) I wanted to travel somewhere on my travel list (it's pretty long...), but we are still awaiting our first pay check and after my quick US trip, didn't think it would be smart to leave again.I miss Senegal a lot, but the more time I spend here and experience certain aspects of France, the more I understand about Senegal. That's definitely a blog post. I also found a HUGE population of Senegalese selling at the 3x/week market in Dijon and was super creepy listening to their conversations in Wolof. Also, it's not as fun to just talk random nonsense with Senegalese in France as it is with Senegalese in Senegal.NO ONE can pronounce my name here, sauf a few English profs. Most people who ask my name just stare at me blankly, then look with confusion at whoever introduced us thinking it's a joke, and it's uncomfortably awkward until I tell them that my name is "BeTTani" instead. [I kind of expected this to happen, but it's a little worse in France than it was in Brussels, Paris, or Senegal.] A few have resorted to calling me Bettina (a la my Belgian host mom Adriana), which just may be easier.I'm constantly exploring Semur and life as a Semuroise. There's not a lot to do in town, so I walk around a lot and try and stop by any market or festival going on. Last weekend was the "Journee de la Pomme" which was basically a gymnasium full of tables of various types of ancient apples and some things for sale, but I wound up sharing lunch with a sweet older French lady after I bought some cidre from her. She was friendly and chatty, confused about my crazy accent (America meets Senegal, Brussels, Paris, Burgundy, etc), and had somethings to share about her opinion of the Sarkozy and the strikes. I also ran into one of the English teachers who has offered me use of her bike when I need it and showed me the giant house she is in the middle of renovating. There's a movie theatre and a regular one, both of which I've attended on two separate occassions each. I'm trying to be more spontaneous and let little Semur surprises guide my days.Ok, that's all for now friends. I'll try and write some decent posts sooner rather than later. As I mentioned, I'm having issues with picasa and updating photos, which is also tied to this blog. Knowing that I need to deal with that technology has kept me from putting anything substantial on here. Sorry!

The other side of Semur

Yep, so I'm no in France, in a tiny town called Semur-en-Auxois, and I decided it was finally time to change up my blog. Nostalgia for Senegal has (and still is) kept me from updating the look for now, but it seemed time. It will probably change a few more times in the next few weeks as I figure out what I like and try to connect this blog with a different email address (so I can upload more pictures since my current FREE Picasa account is full). I didn't want to start a completely new blog because I firmly believe that my experiences here, in Senegal, and wherever else life takes me, while distinct, are very much connected. I'm sure I will make references to Senegal in my posts this year, if not outright entries just about Senegal. I still have so many stories to tell and hopefully my down time here will allow me to tell them.

More about France soon. Don't worry I'm not homeless and while I've gotten some strange looks when accidently slipping Serere or Wolof into my French, I have yet to be spit at, so that's something, right? :)

A bientot.

So I recently had someone request that I write a little about the culture shock and readjustment issues I've been dealing with over the past two, almost three, months since I returned from Senegal. In all honesty, I've been delaying writing anything on here or really processing my experience because I'm still kind of in denial about being back. I miss Senegal and life as a PCV insanely and finding this period of transition before I head off on my next adventure to be more than a little challenging. It's getting easier however, and it's taken about a month just to write this entry, but I hope it's interesting.Pulling water from the well at the school garden

A lot of the things that I expected to be surprised about (bell peppers the size of my face while grocery shopping, meat in every single meal, etc), were not necessarily the things that amazed/shocked me in the end. Some random tidbits follow:

~Language: Something that I'm finding a little more difficult than expected (and yet kind of love that this is an issue) has been transitioning from speaking multiple languages on a daily basis (I could have conversations with locals and fellow PCVs that incorporated French, English, Serere, Wolof, and Arabic) to speaking English rekk (only). Realizing even basic catch phrases PCVs use constantly mean absolutely nothing to the people around me has been strange. At work, a coworker might ask a question about something that's happening or needs to be done, and I want to add an Arabic "Inchallah" (God willing) or "Alhumdouliliah" after something good happens. A few times I've let it slip and just get a strange look from whoever is around me, so mostly wind up whispering French, Serere, or Arabic phrases under my breath (weird, huh?). America is very much a one-language country (or at least Crystal Lake is), and I have always wanted to be bilingual, so having to drop my second, third, and fourth languages is a mental challenge. I'd consider myself almost fluent in French (well, West African French) and Serere, and somewhat competent in Wolof, and really don't want to lose my language skills. I need to actively keep up my French before heading abroad again, but it's hard without a conversation buddy. As for Serere, how do you keep from forgetting a dying language? Yea, trying to work on that... Hopefully I will be able to do a little Serere translating and help update the dictionary from over here.

~Gender Roles: One of the things that has outraged me the most since coming back have been the advertisements. Unfortunately, I've already wasted more time than I care to admit in front of the TV, watching terrible shows on the Travel and Disney channels, and thus have been forced to watch even more horrible commercials. In Senegal, all PCVs do a lot of what we call "GAD" (Gender and Development) work, consciously or unconsciously, talking about shared tasks and gender equality and all that jazz in America. I spent a lot of time in my village talking about how my (American) dad cooks all of the time, does the laundry, etc, and how important it is for men and women to share the tasks at home, which mostly got laughs from the Senegalese. My host sisters eventually understood enough that when a visitor asked about my marital status, besides just explaining how I don't like polygamy, they also volunteered how my husband and I will share work in the home (that we will BOTH cook, clean, do laundry, etc). This usually got an uncomfortable laugh from the guest about the crazy white chic, but whatever, people got the idea and I hoped it challenged some of their ideas of gender roles. Then I came back and watched TV and realized modern American culture is not quite as gender equal as I had envisioned. The commercials for sales at stores like Kohl's or Macy's all feature only shopping-obsessed women. Household cleaning ads and laundry detergent all feature ALL female casts. A good 75+% of the advertisements seemed focused on female shoppers/cleaners/cooks/etc. Why is this? Maybe this is a subject for a completely non-Senegal related blog post for someone other than this middle-of-the-road feminist, but still. Also surprising to me was how annoyed all of these commercials have made me. I also think that seeing the differences between Senegalese and American male-female friendships and relationships since returning has also surprised me, though I don't quite have enough words to describe my thoughts and views for the public yet.

~On the shopping note, women's fashion: ew, gross. It all looks like large trash bags with spandex pant leggings. No shape and flattering on very few body types, plus way overpriced. Not a fan. I have, however, found a little bit of success replenishing my closet with strategic sale shopping (70% off at Loft, thank you very much!) and wearing through old clothing staples (so that I can donate or trash them at the end of the summer). A few RPCVs and I were having a conversation about how terrible women's fashion is right now, because it's bad--but sorry to those who are enjoying it! [And I hope that I didn't prove the justification of all of the only female Kohl's and Macy's ads all over television.]

~More comical: the LACK of bugs and creepy crawly things around. The walls in my room are white with a few old nails and hooks still sticking out and still, almost everytime I see one of those hooks out of the corner of my eye, I do a double-take, thinking I see a cockroach, millipede, or scorpion, just like I'm still in my hut. I see shadows and think they are giant spiders. I've woken up in the middle of the night, or even the afternoon, thinking I hear the scratches of a mouse or shrew. One of my biggest fears going into the Peace Corps was, seriously, the bugs. Yes, I saw some pretty big creepers, but eventually I got "used to" (didn't like, but didn't freak out upon seeing them either) most of them, except that 2 week period in February when cockroaches took over my hut and latrine. Sometimes I think that I hear or feel mosquitoes or Senegalese ear wigs on me (gross!). It's almost like I have creepy crawly post-traumatic stress disorder. Fortunately, it's tolerable and I live in a pretty clean house (good job Mom and Dad!).

~I miss Senegal like crazy. For most of my second year of PC service, I thought about and was asked to extend for a third year. The options were many: extend in Dakar and support the Health and EE programs, extend in Thies and keep working with PST, extend in Kaolack and support the Kaolack Region PCVs, or even extend in Djilor/Kaolack and focus on the Serere dictionary (this was an idea that hit me in my last few weeks, when I felt like it was almost a little too late, tho I know it wasn't). It was a hard decision, though a lot of my reasons for not extending were made during a time when I was feeling somewhat bitter and jaded about things and didn't think it would be good for my emotional health. I thought about extending for a short term, but basically wanted to be back for some weddings this summer. While important and great experiences, I still frequently find myself wishing that I had extended instead to work on the dictionary or PST. I think about my village friends and family as well as my PCV friends and the adventure and monotony of daily life as a PCV, on an almost daily basis. There's definitely things I don't really miss (like arguing for bags while taking public transport, certain interactions in the Kaolack market, or the never ending heat), but in general I had a great experience and of course think only about the good aspects of life there. While there were definitely aspects of PCV social life that I did not enjoy, I really miss the support network and my Djilor neighbors. I also (kind of surprisingly) miss the food: bean sandwiches, millet couscous with leaf sauce and chicken, yassa poulet, millet with raw milk, fresh mangoes and cashew apples, mmm! Those are things you just can't get here. Overall, however, it's the people I miss the most. Yes, I can call my village and do, or other PCVs, but phone calls and occasional emails just aren't the same as sitting underneath a shade tree in Ndiomdy and talking or taking a sketchy public transportation ride in order to meet up with a bunch of other Americans. It's the personal interactions with everyone that I miss so much.

~What my Peace Corps Service could have been: I LOVE reading blogs and looking at pictures from other PCVs who are still over in Senegal, or just beginning their services. I enjoy reading about their work projects, hut improvements, PCV adventures, and cross-culture sharing activities, but it's hard not to compare my Service with their's. I had a full and fulfilling service, but there was always a list of more things I wanted to do: for my village, to share my culture, to share about Senegal with America, or parts of Senegal to see, but never had a chance to. Or I was too scared and nervous. There are beautiful pictures with important people that I wanted to, but never took. Or started taking too late and missed hundreds or amazing shots early in my Service. It's hard not to compare and get down about the things I did NOT do, but when I look back on my experience, I need to focus on what I DID do and the experiences I had. Each Peace Corps Service is different. Mine was mine and their's are their's and I need to be comfortable with that.

~A lack of independence: going from a totally open schedule with a lot of responsibility and very little need to inform anyone (except Etienne) of my whereabouts or activities (until they were complete, of course) to living with my parents and working at an over-caffeinated suburban coffeehouse with super strict rules has been a challenge, which many RPCVs go through (or so I hear). Being back in the town I grew up brings back old memories and emotions which I don't always want to think about, especially after living in DC and then my life-changing time in Senegal. Though it was difficult at first, I grew to really like making my own daily schedule and being in charge of myself and my whereabouts (even while walking or being tortured on public transportation) and now I'm back to being trapped by a somewhat spontaneous and poorly planned work schedule, dependence on a shared vehicle, and an alarm clock (Quelle horreur!). Ew.

~There's so much more I could write about, including my annoyances at American ignorance (a typical RPCV complaint), laziness, obsession with technology (iPhone 4, ew), ideas about minivans, people constantly referring to Africa as a country and not a continent (especially while directly referencing something about my time in Senegal), and the fact that I will never truly be able to share my experiences with people around here. No one I see or talk to on a regular basis was able to visit Senegal and thus no one can truly understand what I went through or the reintegration I'm going through, which can be tough (more so on some days than others). That's why it's so important to stay in contact with RPCVs, because we are able to share our experiences of reintegration and memories of our time in Senegal together.

-----

There have of course been some good things about being back: including being around to help some good friends (and a cousin) celebrate their weddings, spending time with some old friends who have known me for a lot longer than 27 months, seeing family members (including one of my cousins who lived at our house for the summer), Zumba and other classes at Healthbridge to keep me active, and being employed in a job that allows for a little bit of social stimulation (though with all of the weddings and such, I have yet to break even or make a profit).

Ok, I will try and post again soon-ish. I'm working on figuring out the next phase of life, with paperwork and tickets for France (plus contacting my school), getting rid of old junk in my room, and hopefully starting to scrapbook my PC Service. There's still sooooo much I want to share about Senegal with anyone willing to listen (err, read). Thanks for checking out this long, random, and not very well written post. :)

So I was writing a belated (and final) update email about Senegal and as I was babbling (can you do that in written form?) about leaving the village, I realized that the email was becoming way too long and to just post about it here instead.

My last afternoon in the village, waiting for people to show up for the dance party. (Holding my father James and his mother Seynabou is sitting next to us, wearing a dress I had just given her.)

Anyway...

I left the village on April 22, in a terribly emotional day. The day before, that Wednesday, my supervisor Mamadou came to visit in what was my most chaotic day at site ever. Tuesday night, I had been up until 12:30am with my sisters and Seynabou, while she put a beautiful henna design on my feet (which like an idiot, knew I should take pictures of, and just never did). I woke up at 6:30 so she could take off the henna mixture and re-wrap my feet with an ash-mixture that would turn the henna from orange/red to black on my feet. I had to sit in my hut for an hour while the blackening mixture set, and then I ran over to the school as fast as I possibly could, as class was starting at 8am.-Along with the students, the teachers and I were supposed to seed the tree nursery as part of a class lesson, but Mamadou showed up an hour earlier than expected, just as we were getting ready. He wanted to chat about my work and thoughts, take a tour of the two gardens I helped set up, and enjoy a few rounds of tea. When he left two hours later, the students were in math class and I was told to come back in another hour, and they would plant right after the morning break. I showed up during break, armed with possessions I was gifting to the teachers, only to have them JUST then realize that it was my LAST day. Evelyn, one of my good friends, said as I gave her a candle "no Khady, you have to save this for your last day..." "But it is," I said. Uhoh.Really? Where had they been the past month that the whole village (and the school director) knew I was leaving the next day, but not the rest of the teachers? Even my good friend Evelyn (she and I connected on being the only Catholics in Ndiomdy)? Ridiculous. The students knew, their parents knew, but the teachers somehow missed it, even in spite of all of my insisting that we had to plant the tree seeds in early April since I was leaving (but they still kept rescheduling, grr). They started protesting, talking about how they had wanted the students to do some type of special performance or ceremony to thank me, and how they wanted to make me a nice meal, etc. I was too annoyed and in shock that they hadn't realized it, all the while just wanting to get the tree nursery seeded so I could get on with my day. -As the morning break was ending, an ENORMOUS dust storm picked up and wouldn't quit. The students were eventually sent home since the teachers couldn't hold class in the storm (try teaching in stick classrooms or rooms with tin roofs in the middle of a dust storm, it sucks), which meant no seeding...so I dragged all four teachers out to the garden in the storm for a lesson on seed planting. [Note: in March, I sat down with the teachers and planned out when we would fill tree sacks with dirt and then seed them because I was leaving in mid-April. Then when the schedule kept being pushed back, I kept reminding them that we had a tight schedule because I was leaving soon. As my departure came closer and closer, I had a sinking feeling that I would NOT be around to watch them seed the tree nursery and I was correct. Failure. Hopefully, something that they seeded grew and will be successfully outplanted, but I'm not holding my breath.] -

After the busted lesson at the school, I hurried back across my village for the 6th time, absolutely exhausted emotionally and physically, all before 12 noon.

The entire afternoon was spent frantically packing up and giving away everything left in my hut (though Mamadou had already taken all of the stuff I was keeping into Kaolack and up to Dakar). As I was standing in the chaos that remained quickly getting overwhelmed, my host dad or other family members would come by and sit with me (mostly in silence or with me making awkward and stressed conversation), until I had formed a small crowd, I would give them various possessions and clear out my hut for another 5 minutes until the crowd would form again. Yes, it was stressful to have people just sitting there and staring at me while I was trying to pack, but I also really appreciated it because I wanted to spend the day enjoying time with my village and was not able to otherwise. I used many of the children from my compound as messangers, sending them into the village with trunks, buckets, clothes, and other things to give to specific people. Dear village friends and family members would show up with bowls full of peanuts and other presents, and sit for awhile as well. I had hoped to spend the day visiting everyone, saying goodbye, and enjoying quality village time. It was the opposite.

Dancing with Ami Diouf

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In the evening, I dressed up in my finest Senegalese complete from last Tabaski, the women of and the village honored me by holding a special drumming (called a mbud na in Serere or a sabaar in Wolof) right outside my hut. After watering in the garden, most of the women (and kids) in the village showed up and the dancing was INCROYABLE! The women sang songs about me, shared blessings and prayers for my journey back to America (and my family and especially that I would find a good husband upon my return). I danced with any woman who danced my way and really just tried to absorb as much love and appreciation as I could (and took lots of pictures and videos, thanks to Mary). I recorded some of the songs they sang and now have to figure out how to get them off of my voice recorder and onto a digital computer file I can put online. The songs were sweet and all about me and the work I did, especially the women's garden. They women presented me with over $50 in presents (a big deal there), including TONS of cashews, roasted peanuts, and raw peanuts to bring back to America. Three times they tried to end the drumming and dancing, only for the celebration to continue and eventually the dancing and drumming wound up in my crowded and cluttered hut.

As the celebration with the women was ending, my phone kept ringing and it was Evelyn demanding I come for dinner. They also sent my sister, Ndeye, who is also their cook, to fetch me and bring me to their house. The teachers (well, Ndeye) cooked a fancy dinner and demanded I come (which sadly took me away from my last dinner of millet in the village), where they also formally thanked me for my work with the school (and demanded/requested that I not "forget" about them, ie that I find them "a partner school" to work with them), expressed their disappointment that I was leaving so soon, and make arrangements to send me a gift in Dakar before I flew out (they said that they wanted to do something with the students for me, but because they didn't know...). After dinner, I rushed back home, spent a few hours with my family, having them record messages and greetings for my American family, chatting about Senegalese cooking as well as my departure ("what?! Peace Corps won't come and pick you up? You have to take a bus into Kaolack?!!") and then stayed up late finishing packing my 20+ kg (over 40lbs!) of peanut products and organizing the last few gifts for my family (bracelets for my sisters, buckets, prenatal vitamins, etc).

The crowd the morning I left...not happy people (just look at Seynabou's pouty face)

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I woke up early, passed out the last presents in silence, and as my family gathered outside of my hut on benches still left from the night before, was forced to say goodbye. A lot of people from the village had said they would be there to officially say goodbye, but in typical Senegal fashion since Senegalese hate saying goodbye, very few actually came by, which I understood. I burst into tears as I was given/gave the left hand (an insult in Senegalese society, normally given to insure that your guest returns to "repay" the insult) to my entire family, many of them started crying, and I got on the charett for my last ride out of the village. They kept telling me not to cry, but that only made it worse, for all of us.

The charette I rode out of town. I made them stop so I could take a picture of the termite mounds along the side of the road, then I took a picture of them. (My bro Coli is driving the charette and wiping his tears with his tshirt, cute)- After waiting in Djilor with my brother Coli and counterpart Ibou, saying goodbye to my other counterpart Farba and numerous other people (the Pulaar bread&chocolate guy, the hardware store owner, etc), the Alhum (bus) was finally full and ready to go. I burst into tears again as the driver made me get on the bus, as did both Coli and Ibou. [Actually, I was kind of proud of the fact that both of those guys cared so much about me that they were crying in the middle of Djilor--a big deal for Senegalese men!] The women on the bus saw me crying and started talking amongst themselves, all kind of uncomfortable about my tears.-Woman 1: "Why's she crying?"Woman 2: "I think she's traveling, but she's sure crying a lot for a little trip."Woman 3 (who somehow knew Coli and had been talking with him a little): "No, I think she's leaving leaving."Woman 1: (very somber) "Oh." (to which I turned around and nodded and then they all started sharing prayers about a safe journey back, etc." Very sweet.)- Most of the trip into Kaolack was uneventful as I tried to stop crying and texted a few people. Getting into Kaolack though, was a little chaotic as there was a huge religious ceremony happening just outside of town, so traffic was INSANE and cabs were hard to find. One of the bus driver's apprentices helped me get my stuff (a backpack, a bucket full of peanuts, a GIANT plastic bag full of peanuts, and a pillow case full of peanuts) and helped me drag it around on our epic search for a cab to take me to the Kaolack House. It took like 20 minutes to find an empty car and get a reasonable price, but the driver wound up being a pretty nice guy who spoke Serere (and I relatively easily dodged his requests for a date, lol). -As soon as I got into the Kaolack House, I was greeted by some kids from the fall stage who shared homemade French Toast with me. I spent the rest of the morning repacking my bags and organizing my peanuts to give away to other people, so that I could send my huge hiking backpack up to Dakar as Mamadou came through from visiting other PCV sites. With the encouragement of the other Volunteers in the house, I spent the ENTIRE rest of the day watching Glee on the projector at the Kaolack House in an attempt to emotionally recover from the morning and gear up for my trip to Mali via bus the next day. [More about Mali in a future blog post next week or the week after, Inchallah.] ~~~~~Whoo! And that was my last 36 or so hours in Ndiomdy! Sorry if that was a long, repetitive, and emotional posting, but oh well. I thought you guys should hear a little about what it's like to leave the village the last day. I didn't really write about my last few weeks or even month, as it really was a long process of leaving. Instead, I wrote about the chaos that always seems to follow me whenever I have to pack up and leave some place for a very long time.

So to those of you out there who still check this blog on occassion though I have been back in Amerik almost two weeks, a new post is coming hopefully in the next few days. I was busy with wedding celebrations for two dear friends, unpacking, and just adjusting to life in North America again, plus dealing with denial over the fact that I'm no longer in Senegal. Man, it was rough, but I still have so much that I want to share with all you readers (ok, the like 5 people who read this) about life in West Africa and Peace Corps Service, plus my fabulous trip to Mali right after leaving my village. I also misplaced my camera card reader and my USB stick during my last week in Dakar, so I haven't been able to update with pictures or anything either. Oxe garaa ndiiki (it's coming "soon") inchallah. In the mean time, here's a picture from the wedding. For once, I'm actually the TAN one (and notice my hot tank top tan lines). More soon.

I left the village for the last time this morning. It was terrible. I cried, women cried, men cried, the sky cried. (Seriously, it was drizzling)

Last night the women held a special drumming ceremony for me with dancing and singing, and I was sent off with about 20+kg (over 40lbs) worth of peanut and cashew products and blessings for health, a good life, a good husband ("handsome and with money" they prayed), greetings for my family, and a life of peace until I called them. I will write more about it as soon as I can get my computer to connect to the wireless in Kaolack, or save it for Dakar in a few weeks. I head to Mali tomorrow evening.

Leaving was so much harder than arriving, or leaving America for Senegal. I'll be honest and lay it out right now, it's going to be tough for me to come back...have patience, know that I love you all. I head to France in the fall for my next international adventure.

Pictures have once again been added and updated on my Picasa website. I ran out of space, so had to do some deleting of old photos, but here's the most recent stuff from March. Yay Camels!

I'm off with some friends to where the beach meets the delta for Easter...back to site on Monday, but not for long. So sad :(

Hey All!

I've been delaying/avoiding writing a post about celebrating my 2 years In Country (March 13!), mainly because I've been crazy busy with everything and the idea of taking time out to write a blog is just time I don't have. That being said, I am constantly realizing all of the things I want to share about life in Senegal and with the Peace Corps that I still haven't had a chance to (garage shopping experiences, Serere wrestling, the strange rodents recently moved into my hut, etc) and time is quickly running out. The point of this post isn't for any of the above but to make a request on the behalf of other PCVs here regarding a project I was involved in last year, but for various reasons did not have the opportunity to get off the ground (the PCVs in charge had to COS and then the school year happened, etc) until this year. Unfortunately, I won't be around to help with the execution, but I wanted my blog readership (can I say that?) to know about something really cool that will be happening in my area this summer: a Girls' Leadership Camp!

If you remember back in November, I held a Girls' Leadership Day for local girls which was an amazing opportunity to gather girls from two local middle schools to get together, share their experiences, and celebrate being strong young women in Senegal. This camp will expand upon events like mine, including subjects such as health (including HIV/AIDS and STIs), the environment, and leadership skills. Plus fun. Lots of fun! Crafts, swimming, games, and all sorts of things that young Senegalese girls rarely get to do, all away from home for a week! This is an activity that I was really excited about, but unfortunately was not able to happen during my PC Service, but my neighbors Mary and Chris will be actively involved in. Please read the message below from the PCVs organizing the camp and consider donating to this worthy cause. They are very close to the final goal, so every bit helps.

The Girls’ Leadership Camp for the regions of Fatick, Kaolack and Kaffrine will bring together 25 of the top middle-school aged girls to work together in heightening their independence, improving leadership skills and encouraging them to take active roles in their communities. Academically motivated girls who have a good repuation among their peers and teachers will have the opportunity to attend this week-long camp.

At the camp, there will be a range of activities including interactive sessions on topics such as personal health, potential careers, and the environment. Through the guest speakers, the girls will have the opportunity to learn from positive female role models in their community. Other activities such as arts and crafts, swimming lessons, skits, team-building and trust games will also be part of the camp curriculum.

Your contribution will help pay for transportation, lodging, food, and supplies for the activities. Donations are tax deductible and can be made online on the Peace Corps Website.

Any amount is appreciated!

Volunteers serving in other regions in Senegal have conducted camps similar to this one, experiencing great success. We hope to foster leadership skills in the younger generations and provided a positive environment for girls to develop as leaders of their communities. If you are interested in donating, please go here I know that the economy is bad (read: I'm coming back very soon with no job prospects...), but remember, "It's for the girls!"And they deserve it more than anyone else I can think of. Thanks :)

So, I feel like it's been FOREVER since I've written a decent update about life here...mainly it's just been projects and photos (not saying that it's a bad thing), but it's been forever since I've submitted a long, rambling, and mostly incoherent post for you, my viewing public, to enjoy--or to wonder how I made it through university with such atrocious grammar and spelling inconsistencies. [To that, I respond that I've been in Senegal almost two full years now and English has become my 4th language and no one here really seems to care if I babble or can't spell anymore.]

Anyways, so as some of my last posts have shared, January was a pretty crazy busy month. In addition to everything I had to do for the peer educator training, I've also been coordinating purchase, delivery, and installation of chainlink fencing for the already-existing (but in severe disrepair) women's garden in my village plus monitoring/maintaining the school garden, and waging a defensive war against goat and donkey attacks on the baby trees at the school (involving chopping/transplanting jatropha trees around the baby trees to form a live fence). I've dealt with a lot of frustration over lack of community involvement in protecting the trees and maintaining the schoolyard and garden, but have refused to sit on my laurels (sp? Clueless reference...) and have become even more of a woman of action than I already am. There's so much to do and I am in a race against a clock (or a visa/flight that says I should be returning to America in May, or sometime around then).

My Stage at COS, otherwise known as Stage E.T. or Stage Bad Attitude. Look how far we've come!

Last week, my Stage (the group of PCVs I first arrived in Senegal with back in March 2008) had what Peace Corps terms the Close of Service (COS) Conference. Over 3 days and 4 nights, they put us up in a hotel, feed us ridiculous amounts of uber-rich food, and talk to us about finishing up things for PC (admin, medical, etc), leaving the village, and returning to America (culture shock and stuff...warning: you will all find that I am much stranger than when I left 2 years ago, even though I've seen many of you at least once since then). It was exciting, empowering, and overwhelming (there are just too many options out there!), and it's already over. By far the best part though was just being with my Stage for several days, and rehearsing a Bollywood style dance which we performed this past weekend for the awe and amazement of a few hundred PCVs.

A lot of my Stage-mates are starting to formulate plans for post-PC service, though several are in my boat as well--waiting to hear from grad school or other organizations. A few are extending for a 3rd year as well. This week, however, has been full of a lot of nostalgia as we start to say goodbye to each other. Some people are leaving as early as the end of March for America, though most are leaving at the end of April or early May, but I probably will not see many of them before they leave Senegal. It's a weird feeling and the nostalgia is catching all of us. Last night, we did a Stage dinner at a nice restaurant in Dakar and much of the evening was spent toasting our 2 years, marveling that we made it this far, talking about the future, and saying goodbye (or, see you later). As another pointed out, we go into PC expecting to form relationships with the people in our villages and our host families because of all of the time we spend with them, but the friendships that happen between PCVs kind of sneak up on a person. Though we may be quite spread out across the country, we are the closest we will ever have to someone understanding what it means to have been a PCV in Senegal. No one else can really understand what these past 2 years have meant, but we have been through many things together (or similar things separately) and that's a bond that won't soon be broken. Man, even with the chaos and stress of Senegal, it will be hard to leave. I'm already dreading it.

Team Kaolack

After COS, I stayed in Dakar for WAIST, the West African Invitational Softball Tournament, which drew PCVs and expats from all across West Africa. This year the Kaolack Region's theme was Lumberjacks (ie flannel and suspenders), which brings in plenty of irony in that PCVs are supposed to (and do!) promote reforestation and try to discourage people from destroying trees, yet we are dressing as a profession which, when not properly monitored, actually does the opposite. The Tamba/Kedegou Regions are cavemen (PC B.C.) and had by far the best costumes of the weekend (animal prints, bones, and messy hair, it's awesome!). Unfortunately, the Kaolack Region did not have as good of a showing as last year (3rd place with a trophy!), but we still had fun and played some good ball (esp superstars Chris P and Danielle S!). Enjoyable and nice not to have quite as many games as last year (4 as opposed to last year's 7), which made for a more relaxed WAIST.

Another aspect of WAIST, which people who know me know is not quite my thing, is the ridiculous party scene. Last year I felt like I had to go out every night and thus barely slept, but this year was much more chill and I only went out when I wanted to and was much friendlier and more rested. One party, however, was especially important to my Stage because for many of us, it was the realization of a lifelong dream: spontaneously breaking out into a choreographed Bollywood-style dance routine. Think Slumdog Millionaire meets Glee (which I just saw for the 1st time and LOVE!). I have always wanted to be at a dance and out of nowhere, everyone around breaks into a choreographed dance routine, and that's what we did! Yes! At midnight, without telling anyone except the DJ what was going on, we managed to clear the dance floor and absolutely rock it! Probably about 18 or so of us participated in the dancing and we just had soooo much fun! (There will be pictures on picasa, though they are kind of dark. I also tried having a video recording of it, but it was too dark, sadness!)

Fancy snapping

Dancing daggers! (that's me in the maroon dress)

Something particularly interesting/enjoyable was the reaction many people had to MY dancing (and not just in our routine). While some people in my Stage know that I like to dance and have seen me do so on occassion, most haven't and were quite surprised. Even more so, a large portion of the Kaolack Region were surprised and made their amazement known (not just during our dance number, but any other time they saw me dancing during the weekend). I guess most of the last year, I've been so stressed with projects and grad school applications, that I haven't been able to have fun and just loosen up and dance before this weekend. Quite fun. :)

Well, I'm headed back to the village the day after tomorrow. I have to regulate some things with the fencing for the women's garden (either there was an error measuring or the hardware store cheated us a few meters of length per roll), as it turns out the 15 rolls was not sufficient (I only calculated needing 14, but bought a 15th just in case...) and we are 22m short, so I have to order/buy some more. I spent an hour today just looking at my planner and kind of freaking out about how fast time is flying here and how much I still want to do, while at the same time realizing I won't be able to do everything or see everywhere that I would like to. Shame. I'll have been gone almost 2 weeks though, so I need to get back. First, however, I need to print TONS of pictures from the peer educator training and buy some stuff for my host family. I'm not sure what the rest of the week will hold apart from a lot of gardening, but I really need to get back to finishing the Serere dictionary and do some follow-up on the training from January. My paperwork pile is growing as my COS date draws near, so that's another thing I need to start working on. I had hoped to get some done this weekend, but alas.

My replacement and her Stage arrive in Senegal in about 3 weeks, weird and exciting!

The group of female students who attended the ceremony. Hopefully many walked away motivated and determined to succeed in school and if not, that they are proud of their fellow students for their hard work. Every year for the past 10 or so, Peace Corps Senegal Volunteers across the country run a scholarship competition aimed at promoting girls' education. Named for a PCV named Michele Sylvester, who was killed during her Service in an automobile accident. She was committed to girls' education in Senegal and so in 1993, a memorial scholarship fund was begun in her name to continue her work and passion.

The scholarship competition has never been done (that I know of) in my part of the Delta, so last May, with the help of my then newly-installed neighbors, Mary and Chris, we held it for the first time at the middle school in Djilor. [Side note: middle school students in Senegal range in age from 13-17 or so] We had teachers select the top 6 female students, who then had to write essays on where they see themselves in 10 years, and then we interviewed them at their homes (if possible). The interviews were interesting though awkward and difficult, conducted in French, which is the language of academic instruction in Senegal, and the girls had some difficulty understanding our American French accents. Students in Senegal aren't used to being asked questions like "What do you want to be when you grow up?" or "When you have free time (no school or house work to do), what do you like to do?", so we really had to push the girls for answers (or beg their parents to keep quiet and not answer for their daughters). The awarding of the scholarships was based on personal motivation, academic achievement, personal essay, interview, teacher recommendation, and demonstrated financial need (determined from visiting their homes during the interviews). From the 6 girls chosen to compete, we gave our recommendations and passed 4 applications along to the PCSenegal scholarship committee in Dakar, who met in August to choose winners for all of the regions of the country. One winner was chosen from each school to win a scholarship of $40-$60 USD to cover the cost of inscription fees, school supplies, and any other school expenses which may occur. Due to some beaurocratic issues and various regulations, scholarship awards were not available in time for the start of the 2009-2010 academic year (the greater Kaolack Region particularly had some issues, but alas). Since most of the school expenses for the year have already been covered, the money will probably wind up going to their families, but hopefully it will serve as an encouragement to their continued academic achievements. [Monitoring and follow up of scholarship funds is something PC Senegal is trying to improve, so as to make sure money is not just solely going to the girls' fathers' wallets, but it's hard to check up on.] Just 2 weeks ago, we were finally able to properly honor the winners and finalists in the Djilor branch of the competition. Held just days after the peer educator training weekend, we gathered a group of about 45 female 5eme students (eighth grade or so, according to US equivilent) plus the winners (all currently in 5eme except for one girl in 3eme which is the French equivilent of a sophomore) and invited the winners' parents to also show up. We wanted to screen an awesome video, "Elle Travaille, Elle Vit!" (http://www.senegad.org/gallery.html), but yet again technology failed us. Instead, we had a dynamic discussion, asking the girls what they want to become when they grow up (teacher, nurse, premiere ministre in the government, police/gendarme, lawyer, etc) and why it is important to encourage girls' education, before awarding certificates and school supplies to the winners/finalists and sharing sodas with all of the attendees.Awa Ba (3rd place), Awa Diallo (4th), Oumi Diallo (1st), Fatou Diallo (2nd) [Though 3 of the girls share the last name Diallo, they are not related...Diallo is a very common Pulaar last name]1st place: By far the strongest academically, Oumi rocked her interview and also demonstrated major financial need. The youngest of 7 children, Oumi is the only child to make it to middle school, while the rest of the family farms. She lives in a small village 4km from Djilor, without electricity (and no one in her village has a cell phone, which is rare in this part of the country) and walks that distance to school each day. She wants to be the government minister of education and enjoys English class because speaking English will "allow her to communicate with the rest of the world." She also expressed her refusal to marry before finishing her studies (a big issue here, I sure hope she will follow through and not have to cave to early marriage due to financial need). What most impressed us was her interest in the greater world outside of her village and even Senegal, balanced with her obvious care and concern for her family and village. Since we interviewed her last May, she has been chosen as "La Responsable" of her 5eme class, meaning she is basically like her classes female student president, showcasing her leadership abilities as well. Her father has also recently fell ill, adding to the family's hardship, but she is still rocking out in school. 2nd place: Though the youngest one competing (probably about 11 or 12 at the time), Fatou surprised us with her understanding of the questions, poise in answering, and humble confidence, even in the French language. She has high grades and incredibly strong teacher recommendations. Her family was friendly and inviting, especially her dad who is active in their neighborhood and understanding of the situation of girls in Senegal, though their financial need was quite evident. [While 1st place was the only one officially allotted a scholarship through the memorial fund, because multiple girls were deserving, local PCVs contributed to give 2nd and 3rd places a small financial award as well.]3rd place: From the first introductory meeting about the scholarship competition in April '09, Awa Ba blew us out of the water with her motivation, determination, and desire to win. The oldest of all of the participants, Awa exuded confidence (a rarity among middle school girls, both in Senegal and America) during the interview process. She shared that she wants to be a doctor when she finishes school and while she did not have quite the same financial need as Oumi or Fatou, her academic achievements and motivation alone deemed her worthy of recognition. She participated in our November Girls' Leadership Day with Awa Traore from PCSenegal.4th place: From Nguekokh (Chris/Jaime's village), Awa Diallo missed her first interview because she had to go to Djilor to grind millet for her family's dinner that night. We rescheduled and she did a great job, talking about how she enjoys math class. We were not able to give her a financial award (just some notebooks and pens), but hopefully she will use 4th place as a jumping off point and will apply for the scholarship again next year.Here's some pictures from the afternoon:

The winners, Oumi's mom, Fatou's Dad, and a few school officials

Presenting Oumi with her first place certificate, notebooks, and pen's.

It was a great afternoon and though my time in Senegal is running short and I won't be able to do the proper follow-up I would like (such as starting a girls' group or something), I hope that several of the activities I've started with the Djilor middle school (and not just those involving monetary funding), will be able to be continued and improved upon in future years.

Last November, my old neighbor Jaime and I, responding to a request from our local middle school, started planning what we hoped would turn into a dynamic girls' group aimed at reducing early marriage and teenage pregnancy. Over the course of a few months, it turned into education sessions focused on adolescence, early marriage, and teenage pregnancy, meeting separately with groups of girls and boys, at two different area middle schools. Unfortunately, last year the school system was plagued with strikes (this year too...) and school events/testing and it became very difficult for a team of 3 or 4 of us (myself, Jaime, the nurse or a local NGO worker, my counterpart Farba, and a woman from the first middle school who originally requested such programming--only to quickly drop out due to requests for more money...) to make sessions at both schools. In the desire to create a more sustainable program that could function even without our main team, I talked to people about doing what PC calls a Training of Trainers to train some teachers and students as peer-educators (known here as relais) to lead sessions at their own schools. I wrote a grant, funded by USAID, and received financing for a 3 day training, creation of training and teaching materials, tshirts (relai "uniforms"), meals (breakfast and lunch each day), and transportation of goods/people (lots of photocopies, tshirts, etc). What follows is a brief summary of the weekend, which proved to be enlightening and educational, for all parties involved.Group shot, end of Day 3...can you find me?So I've been stressing for months (see: lack of sleep and the RENT soundtrack being continuously stuck in my head) in anticipation of planning and hosting this peer educator training and last weekend the stress and planning finally came to fruition. With the help of 3 health/science teachers, Batman and Robin (my unofficial counterpart Farba and his BFF Diegan, president of the rural community of Djilor), the local nurse, and several area PCVs, we trained 28 students from Djilor and 14 from Sadioga to be peer educators, specifically trained in reproductive health. Sessions from the training included: the importance/roles of a peer educator, Adolescence/Puberty, Early Marriage and Pregnancy, STIs, HIV/AIDS, Family Planning Methods, male and female condom demonstrations, how to lead educational talks in the village/at school, general Q&A, breakout brainstorming and action planning by school, and an awarding of certificates of participation. We started each day around 8:30am or so (come on, this is Africa...) and went until after 6pm Friday and Saturday (3:30 on Sunday), providing breakfast and lunch each day (and sodas and beignets on Sunday afternoon to celebrate!).

Here are some pictures of the weekend: many more will be available on Picasa in a few days...

Farba, my unofficial counterpart and the hero of local PCVs talking to the students about leading health talks.

The local nurse talking about family planning methods (some people tried to convince me not to do a family planning session with the students, but it wound up being the most interesting session to many of them!)

Motivated Sadioga students creating their action plan for educating their communities, which Mary and I will follow up on.

Fellow PCV Emily talking about STIsWe had a lot of info to cover in a few days, so I hope it stuck. I must admit that I had initially grossly underestimated the students existing knowledge about reproductive health, but we passed out a questionnaire on Day 1 to find out what they already knew and the results were astounding and horrifying. Most students though Senegal had a HIV infection rate of over 80% (it is officially around 1.7% or so, but varies greatly on location in the country) and could not name a single STI. At the end, we passed out closing questionnaires to measure their knowledge and while the results weren't perfect, their was an obvious improvement in understanding and awareness about reproductive health issues. To cover for the fact that time was limited and many activities we prepared for we did not actually get to (this is Africa, things happen and you have to be flexible), we also handed out thick folders with basic and more detailed information, class lessons, skits, and statistics about reproductive health, so I hope that the students will be able to revert to that info and the local resource people we identified throughout the weekend, when they go to lead their own sessions. They already have served as important talking pieces when students showed fellow classmates and family members, so hopefully the knowledge will continue to grow.A side problem: The training was originally supposed to be for 42 students, but the 14 students from the 3rd school (Diossong) wound up not showing up. The transportation kept falling through for them all week and in spite of our insistence to just get on a bus and we would pay their fares as soon as they got to Djilor (15km away via bush, 30km or so via road), but the principle let us down. [Very frustrating because He was the one who searched Me out last year to participate in our programs and we had already done a few reproductive health sessions with them in early January, plus we budgeted and made purchases for all of their students as well.] Due to the great distance, the Djilor students were to host the visiting Sadioga and Diossong students in mini homestay situations. With Diossong not showing up and the big Sadioga wrestling tourney weekend happening (and students wanting to commute each way to watch at night), most of the homestays did not happen. The ones that did proved to form new friendships and create opportunities for collaboration between students from the two schools.

Numerous thanks to my neighbor PCVs: Mary for her emotional support and help stuffing folders, Emily for coming all of the way from the land of the Pulaars to share her knowledge and expertise on the subject, Chris for the title of the training (Ma Sante, Mon Choix), and Jack for bringing cheese to the folder stuffing and wearing a boubou on Saturday. Farba, as always, was my life saver and acted as our school liason, garnering support from school and local administration and keeping things organized. Cilor, Farba's wife, led the fabulous cooking team, whose delicious meals was spread across a 15km radius. Ndeye, the nurse, for sharing her medical knowledge, wisdom, and fabulous acting skills. To the teachers, who spent their weekend working with students and helping us lead sessions (even when we PCVs disagreed with some of the info they were sharing, or the way they were teaching it...). And to all of the community relais (Samba, Malick, Amadou) for sharing their experience and tips on being relais with the students, and for their singing and acting.

[I apologize if this entry is somewhat disjointed and incoherrent, full of mispellings...I am tired and not feeling like a very eloquent writer but wanted to post about this training before it got too late. I have several more updates to post, hopefully within the next week or so while in Dakar.]

My pictures are updated and available for your viewing pleasure. There are updated pictures in the 4 most recent web albums, so don't just look at the newest album but check 'em all out. http://picasaweb.google.com/pcbethThere's a PC photo contest in February which I would like to enter for fun (many different categories), so please let me know your favorites (the good, the bad, the random). Thanks!

For me, 2009 was neither a normal year nor a remarkable year in and of itself, or so it seems. No one single event sticks out in my head for any particular reason, and yet it was the day-to-day events of life in Senegal which will forever endear it in my mind as “a GREAT year,” solely for the fact that it was during my Peace Corps Service. I did a fair amount of traveling during 2009, inside and out of Senegal, visiting friends across the country, in Europe, and spending some much-needed time back in the USA. For myself as well as my small, but loyal(ish) reading public, I have compiled a list of some of the events of the past year (with the help of my trusty German day planner—thanks Sommer!). January: The second half of my European Winter Vacation, visiting Sommer and enjoying some winter weather while gorging on delicious German treats and hot drinks, seeing Paris in the snowInstallation of fence around school garden and starting the pepiniere (seedling) process, and the beginning of my new love of gardeningKaolack Regional Strategy Retreat to talk about PC work in the regions of Fatick, Kaolack, and Sokone—great opportunity for regional collaboration! Also, Ndiomdy wrestling tournament that lasted for 6 days and overwhelmed my village (and me!).Celebrating our joint-birthdays on January 20 with my old sitemate Jaime in Sokone, listening to Obama’s inauguration on Jess’ porch with a tiny radio, then watching it on a generator-powered TV at the Orange boutique. Knowing we were American, the owners gave us chairs to sit on so we could watch such an important event in public.My APCD Mamadou came to my village and hosted a community meeting where we identified the main overal needs of Ndiomdy being related to hygiene and sanitation. This meeting gave purpose and understanding for my service and got the village thinking and working together.February:Continuation of early stages of school garden, first outplanting and sales of seedlings and lettuce. Home gardening picked up as more people tried their hands at gardening.First reproductive health lesson with Jaime and the staff in Djilor. We met with the girls of 4eme (aged approximately 15/16) and opened up important discussions in our attempt to bust through the taboo and reduce teenage pregnancy in the area. We also started meeting with the boys of the same level.A LOT of time out-of-site:Thies to continue work helping with the Cross-Culture aspects of the upcoming PSTWAIST (West African Invitational Softball Tournament), where the Braveheart-themed Team McKaolack took 3rd place and brought home a nice trophy; LifeSkills training in Thies with my unofficial counterpart Farba where we learned about encouraging good decision making and “life skills” for use in our reproductive health sessionsGRE in Dakar! When standardized testing meets West Africa, crazy things may happen but PCVs are victorious (more or less…)Back to Thies to welcome the new Health and EE trainees and help them get oriented to life in SenegalMarch:· Starting work on the Ndiomdy-Pethie latrine project, which came directly from the January community meeting.· Reproductive health sessions with the boys of Djilor, expansion of program into Sadioga middle school as well· The birth of “James” Ndar Diouf, my American dad’s fake namesake· Senegalese local elections…· More helping in Thies for PST, bonding with the new Health/EE stage April:Mary and Chris make their first visit to the Djilor area and we watched the Independence Day parade togetherHosted a Dakar study abroad student (from America): I put her to work weeding in the garden and working on latrines. We taught my family the Macarena, watched the post-circumcision release (rite of passage) ceremony for the young men, and she gave me a new appreciation for my village.A lot more time in Thies and Swear-In of new PCVs; Marc and Jaime leave their villages so Mary and Chris can move inMay:Continuation of latrine project and mass-purchasing of 6 tons of cement and other supplies (on my village 1 year anniversary); local villages start buzzing with talk of our latrine projectPlanting of tree nursery for school and greater village (and my own backyard)Strikes and testing put a damper on further already scheduled reproductive health sessions in the two villagesVillage sister Khadium’s wedding in family compoundRunning of scholarship competition to encourage middle school girls to stay in school, including home interviews, both sad and inspiring all at onceAttended first baby baptism/naming ceremony in my compound (I missed the other 3 baptisms due to my crazy travel schedule)Attended Popenguine Pèlerinage 2009 (Pilgrimage) with a few other PCVs and half a million Senegalese. Awesome! One of my best weekends in Senegal! The Catholics know what’s up: Jesus, pork, alcohol, and not harassing the white kids running around!June:More latrine supply purchases, work on the Serere dictionary, and planning ahead for the upcoming PreService TrainingAPCD came to visit and check out the latrines and school garden—felt really good about my work and the potential for the village after thisMaking LOTS of neem lotion to help protect people from mosquito bites. Held two educational causeries with village women and sold bags of it which went like hot cakes! Yay for fighting malaria!Helping Mary and Chris get acquainted with life in the area, following up on Jaime’s disastrous chicken project, helping Mary distribute mosquito netsMidService Medical: a week in Dakar to see how much damage being in this country has caused my body. Ate a lot of icecream and hung out with some fabulous people from my Stage.July:School garden evaluation and planning ahead meeting: discussed how to improve upon the first year. Also introduced the teachers and my counterparts to Crystal Light Pink Lemonade, Jiffy Pop, and Walker’s Shortbread Cookies. Now if only we could follow through with what we planned at that meeting…Trip down to Kedegou in southeastern Senegal for the 4th of July. Ate warthog sandwiches, danced the night away, took a traumatic trip down a nonexistent road in a top-heavy vehicle full of PCVs, swam in a waterfall after a nice hike, visited the Tamba regional house, and continued on to Thies to do some planning work for training.Initial outplanting of tree nursery at school, in village, in my backyard, and in town. I carried 7 trees in a bucket on my head for an entire 4km walk to Djilor to bring them to the health post at the request of the nurse, outplanted the trees while being supervised by the nurse and midwife (but NOT assisted), and was caught in a terrifying and violent storm on the walk back—after not being given a ride by one charret, I started crying and cursing until my brother’s charret appeared out of nowhere and I shared with them how bad the first charret was not to give me a ride in the storm. By the time I arrived in the village, I looked like a drowned rat. Oh, and the trees did not survive a month because no one took care of them. I haven’t been inside the health post since.Went to Thies to help with the Health/EE IST only to have my session taken over by an outside actor. Annoyed, I hoped a plane to …AMERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Need I say more? A much needed visit to CL and DC, full of coffee dates, gossip, hugs, and African Dance class, plus an old friend’s wedding in South Carolina.August:The America fun continued for a few days with a 18hour turn around between the SC wedding and another good friend’s wedding in CL—though exhausted, lots of dancing, quality time with friends and family, visits to the gym with my parents’ guest passes, and good times and conversations ensued. Welcomed yet another group of new Trainees to Senegal, showed them around Thies, and led training sessions to help them get oriented to life in Senegal.Finished outplanting tree nursery around the school and larger village. Discovered that the local soccer team destroyed the mango trees I outplanted because they “interfered” with their terrain. Thanks boys…(sarcasm)Relaxing time in the village: lots of reading and sudoku puzzles, quality time with the village and the start of RamadanSeptember:Ramadan, ‘nuff saidMade a little more neem lotion which quickly disappeared due to high demand with the remaining month of the rainy seasonTrip up to Dakar to treat the massive heat rashes and infections that were covering my body in the heat and humidity of the end of the rainy season. Afterwards, hopped a PC car down to Kolda to visit the PCVs down there and experience life in the land of the southern Pulaars. Gained a new appreciation and love for my own region while admiring life on the other side of The Gambia.Moving of the Kaolack house, where I got the creeping eruption on my wrist that wasn’t treated for another two monthsGeorge’s passing…rough week even though it was the Korite holiday. By far the worst week of the year. For more details, read the blog entry about thatStill not much work going on because people were in the fields and school hadn’t yet started. More reading and sudoku puzzles, quality time in the village, and clearing of the garden.October:Gave remaining mango and papaya trees to the elders of the villageTrip to Thies for the end of PST to do follow-up work, hang out at swear-in, and spend another week in Dakar with various skin infections…weird diseases and skin issues really were the theme of my fall…Started graduate school applications which soon took over my lifeSchool starts, in theory…in actuality, elementary school didn’t start until the end of the month and the middle school started in November, but has yet to have a full week of school…Prepping school garden for another yearNovember:Hosted an American study abroad student. She had been spending the semester studying in Dakar and this was her first time to really get out into the bush. I put her to work helping in the school garden, attending meetings at the middle school, and spending time in the village. We also took a few trips to the river and ate 6 watermelons in two days. It was intense and fabulous! I also realized how much my language skills (Serere, French, and Wolof) have improved over the course of my Peace Corps Service)Hosted Girls’ Leadership Day in Djilor with girls from nearby middle schools, also shared on a previous blog entry. Awesome day!Prepping and planting of vegetable pepiniere (seed plots) for school garden, ensuing dramaThe birth of James Diouf, my US dad’s namesake, the son of my closest friend in the village, Seynabou. What an honor!More grad school application work…statements of purpose tortured me as I spent day after day in Kaolack staring at my computer attempting to write something to convince various grad schools to accept meEarly Thanksgiving in Kaolack, Tabaski in the village, and several days of extreme illness (in continuation of my medical problem heavy fall)December:International Volunteer Day Conference in Joal with PCVs and other volunteers from all over Senegal, visiting around Joal, and beach cleanupOutplanting of vegetable pepiniere in plots around the governmentPlanning meetings at local middle schools for a peer-educator training in January (stay tuned…)Trip to Ndiom, in northern Senegal, for the annual (but this year much belated) Thanksgiving celebration. I saw an entirely new side of Senegal and spent several days relaxing and socializing—by far my favorite Peace Corps social event ever. Chill and super fun!Very quick and amazing Christmas vacation! So that was my 2009: A lot of work, some new friends and good time with old ones, and many growing experiences (on a daily basis), but a good year. Happy 2010!

Introducing James Diouf, born at 9:10am on Monday, November 16 (and named on November 23).

The morning of Monday, November 16, I went to the garden to water and then headed home for a slow pilates session in my hut before breakfast. Around 9:30 I got a phone call from my friend Seynabou (the woman with me when I had my crazy charette incident a year and a half ago) that went like this:

Me: Hello? Seynabou?

Seynabou (nervously): Khady? I have a baby.

M: You do?!?! When?

S: Now...

M: Where are you?

S: Djilor. I need you to go to my house and tell the people there I have a baby.

M: Ok...wait, boy or girl?

S (...): boy

M: Boy? Great!

(called back shortly after...)

M: I told them. Everyone is very happy. Are you happy?

S: Yes, but I wanted a girl. Are you happy?

M: Of course, don't be silly!...I'm coming to Djilor now, see you soon!

Seynabou's water broke at 2am, labor started at 5am, and she arrived at the health post in Djilor around 8:40am, gave birth at 9:10am, and was on a donkey charette headed back to the village by 12-noon! No way!

As the conversation says, I hurried my butt to Djilor to see Seynabou and meet her baby and was then given the enormous honor of carrying the baby all of the way back to our village on the charette (perhaps one of the most terrifying charette rides of my life...). People were shocked and amazed that I went all of the way to the health post only to turn around and come back, but it was worth it to see the baby and support my closest friend in the village. I spent the entire day at her house and most of the following few days, doing nothing more than sitting around and holding the baby, but absorbing as much quality time with a child I will barely know because my time in Senegal is quickly drawing to a close.

So, for those of you who don't know, "James" is not a typical name for a Muslim baby. In fact, little James Diouf (pr Juuf) was named after my American father. Seynabou had long been talking about how she wanted a girl so she could name her after me as a symbol of our friendship (and so she could have an extra hand to help around the house: she so far has just 1 girl and 2 boys), but alas God had different plans. Later that Monday, Seynabou's husband approached me and asked "what's your older brother's name?" Surprised upon realizing I don't have a brother (he should have asked his wife, she knows), he then asked my dad's name. "huh? Jaamesssy?...James...Ok, I will talk with some Catholic Sereres and investigate..." Though he talked about naming the baby after my dad, I didn't actually think it would happen. I mean, doesn't the kid need a Muslim name? But no, in fact, the baby was actually named James! The morning of the baptism/naming ceremony, an older woman in the village who was in charge of shaving the baby's hair (Muslim custom) asked Seynabou "James? Can't we just call him Mohammed?" Haha, almost the same! Seynabou was adament and when the name was shared in front of everyone the morning of the baptism, a large roar went up as everyone expressed their delight in the "birth of Khady's father" and started demanding money from me. Alas!

In West African tradition, giving one's child the name of a friend or loved one is an enormous honor. Many PCVs leave Senegal with a child named specifically after them (their Senegalese not American names), but I have not had quite that same luck. One sister wanted to name her baby after me in April, but had a boy and named him Ndar, though he has been nicknamed "James" Ndar after my dad. Another sister had a girl, but named her Fatou and nicknamed her Fatou "Khady," calling her my namesake though she was really named after someone else. My whole village feels for me and points out how "I don't have luck" with having a namesake and I just laugh it off. I thought Seynabou might name the baby after George and was thus extremely surprised, pleased, and honored that Seynabou and Adou named their son after my dad. Some of the older people in their compound are having trouble, but learning, how to pronounce the name. I am very humbled to know that my memory will live on as this child grows up and hopefully goes on to amazing things, A feelanga Roog. It's amazing and now I find that all I want to do is sit with my "dad" and laugh as everyone tries to say his name.

Baby James, Me, and Seynabou on the day of the baptism. Maybe I will write more about the actual baptism next time...pictures will definitely be on picasa as soon as the internet cooperates enough to do so in a speedy manner.

[btw there is another Baby James in the area, James Sarr...Jaime's counterpart's wife gave birth a year ago and named their baby after Jaime's US father as well. They should start a club!]

So lately I'm at once torn between not knowing what to write yet feeling compelled to, but also acknowledging that half my posts are boring general updates and not necessarily anything educational/entertaining about life in Senegal. Hence I am once again putting out the call for requests of things to write about...I'll take any and all suggestions and try to write about them as they relate to life here. Anything that you want to know about as it relates to Senegal, PCV life, whatever, and I will do my best to entertain those requests.

Btw I know my time is getting short, but if anyone is interested in visiting Senegal and hanging with a temporary local who speaks multiple languages on a daily basis, I would LOVE to have you come and experience my life and see the country. Come on, you know you want to... :)

This past Monday, the Peace Corps Cross Culture and Homestay Coordinator Awa Traore (with whom I work with whenever I am in Thies) came to talk with selected girls from the middle schools in Djilor and Sadioga where I work. In total, 30 girls were chosen by their teachers to participate: 20 from Djilor (a school with about 1,000 students between the middle and high schools) and 10 from Sadioga (middle school student enrollment around 400), based on their academic achievements, motivation, and ability to serve as leaders among their classmates.

The overall theme of the day was focused at keeping girls in school, which was done through conversations about self-confidence, friendship, and knowing oneself, as well as discussing the problems of rape, early/forced marriage, and early/unwanted pregnancy, and how they impact girls in the community.

It was a great day and Awa really got the girls thinking, talking, and sharing. I think the selected faculty members on hand also learned a lot, especially about the problems facing female students today. One faculty member in particular from Djilor was surprised to discover that rape is a big issue among middle school students in the area. Conversations on these sensitive topics got both the girls and faculty members talking and I hope that the greater community will in turn benefit from the day.

Hopefully Monday will be the first in a series of trainings specifically aimed at keeping girls in school through improved leadership, greater self-confidence, reduced rate of unwanted pregnancy, and improved access to education. The next training will hopefully be a several day reproductive health training for students and teachers to lead classes at their respective schools in January, A feelanga Roog.

Your friendly local Peace Corps team: Chris (Moustapha), Me (Khady), Awa, Jessica (a fellow Kaolack Region PCV who organized the tourney), and Mamadou the chauffer.

More pictures and a video (in Wolof, sorry!) are available at http://picasaweb.google.com/pcbeth

I just wanted to send a major thanks to the supportive words so many people have shared about George. My village and I really appreciate it.

As my parents noticed, I updated my picasa website, so check out what's been going on (though most are scenes of my backyard and other random things).

I've been in Dakar the last week, after a week in Thies for the end of PST (yay 52 new Senegal PCVs!), visiting with Med (multiple weird skin infections and eye issues) and trying to really delve into grad school and post-PC life options. I am almost done with the antibiotics and have new lenses for my "fun" glasses, as it turns out my vision has actually improved since coming to Senegal. Turns out the headaches were from my eyes correcting the "over-correctedness" of my original lenses. Of course, my hard-core village glass lenses haven't been changed, so I guess I will have to bench them for awhile. Anyway, I'm head back to Kaolack/the village tomorrow.

Over the next few weeks, work will really be picking up again. I am planning an awesome Girls' Leadership Day in early November for middle school girls, plus I am trying to get together materials and write a grant for a reproductive health training in December/January. Chris and I have reached a critical point in the Serere Dictionary, where we now need to take what we have and share it with members of our villages to verify words/sounds/spellings. Oh, and gardening season is starting up so I really need to prepare pepiniere space. Plus, I have two new neighbors (yay Jack and David!) to visit and a bunch of other random stuff... so much for the slow season of August and September (which I honestly LOVED). AND I need to finish and send in my applications for grad school! [Holy cow, I had forgotten how overwhelming applying for school is. Now multiply that by 300 and you will almost understand what it's like to apply without regular internet access or printing capabilities.] It will all be good and time is really going to fly by over the next six months before I COS (Close of Service).

Miss you and love you all!

So for various reasons, I’ve been avoiding updating this blog. Since the Kaolack House moved to its new location (natural light, ooo!) a month ago, I have not had much internet access for work or communication, so that has made the rare and precious time online even more so. But more than the lack of internet access, there is a blog entry that I’ve been dreading posting, but need to, because it was a HUGE event in my village and my service. And it revolves around an old man who a fellow female PCV once tried to sell me to for 4 cows (not enough to me and too much for him—she was just KIDDING!). I call him George. I started writing this blog about three weeks ago, so it’s kind of out of date, sorry. I’ll be honest, the last week and a half has been tough—downright hard. Not for anything like getting used to life again or a lot of work or cultural adjustment or anything like that. No, this week was tough in a way that has shown me just how difficult it will be to leave my village in 8 months, because of the real bonds and friendships I’ve made with the people around me. George passed away. “George” was the name I gave to the oldest man in my compound/ village, and he was convinced I was his third wife. I *believe* George was 93 years old, but realistically, he could have been any age from 80-95. He had told me 90 and 93 on separate occasions and while I never asked him to show me his birth certificate (if he even has one…he was already in his 40s when Senegal was granted independence in the early 1960s), from some of his stories, I believe he was actually THAT old. George’s real name is Mordou Gning, or because of his age to show respect Mame Mordou Gning, but I early on in my PC service gave him the name “George” after he insisted on calling me Fatou Mae after the mother of his second wife, Ndiaye Senghor. Over a year ago, the entire village thought it quite funny that this young white girl who barely spoke Serere would be bold enough to change the name of the oldest and most-respected man in the village just because he wouldn’t call her by her proper Senegalese name. A few people caught on that the US President at that time was named George too, but they didn’t really get the irony in it. In all honesty, it was the first “generic American” name that popped into my head and it stuck. And so our relationship started… The first few months of my PC service (after Installation) were spent sitting next to George in our compound and arguing with him. My early vocabulary was comprised mostly of different ways to say “I don’t like you” and why to all of his professions of love for me and his desire for me to marry him. Up until even the night before his stroke, George was proposing and insisting I accept and be his wife. Not a chance, sorry George, you are my grandfather and much too old for me, plus you are old and don’t have enough money to pay back my student loans (I always got a laugh from those around me with this comment), which I constantly told him. A few posts ago I referred to the gifts I brought back from America, including a thick long-sleeved shirt of Dad’s, which I gave to George. I may as well have given him a solid gold cow or my first born child for his excitement about this old shirt. Putting it on right away and wearing it for the first three days I was back in the village after my US vacay, George made sure that the ENTIRE village knew that I gave him such a nice shirt as it was “an obvious profession of my love for him.” George was a good Muslim in every sense of the word: he prayed 5 times a day, he gave to the poor, and he fasted (no food or water 6am-7:30pm) during Ramadan (even though the elderly are let off from fasting, which I reminded him of every time someone commented to me about him fasting). So the day I left for Dakar back in September, George had a stroke. It was no doubt brought on by fasting—well, and age. While I was gone, no one told me anything about the stroke—nothing at all. Probably because of the fatalist aspect of culture here, but still, it annoyed me. I left Kaolack Friday morning after the house move and almost two full weeks away from the village in Dakar and Kolda, eager to be back to tackle the mold that of course took over my hut and enjoy life in a place where I could communicate with people again (Kolda is mostly Pulaar, so I didn’t really know what was going on). After stopping off in Djilor, I wanted to check in on a youth citizenship camp, but Mary and I both decided we were too exhausted to stay the afternoon and decided to trek back to our respective sites, even though it was around 1:30pm. Shortly after getting back to my hut, it started raining and didn’t stop until around 9pm that night. I cleaned, organized my stuff, and debated whether or not to wait until after the rain before greeting and passing out the gifts of tea and dates (in celebration of the end of Ramadan), but decided that since it was light rain, I should just go ahead and do it. That’s when things changed. I walked up to the door of George’s room, knocked and started teasing/greeting him as usual as I walked into his room, but not to the normal response. I looked in and realized something was not right—and my sister Njira was right on my heels. She told me he was sick—obvious signs of facial paralysis and confusion in his eyes, he couldn’t see well, and could barely hear. He was scary skinny, his hip bone sticking up from his bed as he laid on his side facing the door. No duh he’s sick. We tried to talk with Njira translating for both of us, unable to really understand the other. I gave him the dates and tea, which seemed pointless, but he thanked me and called me a great person and asked me to sit. So I did. I sat for about 5 or 10 minutes, thinking about what happened and wondering who I could contact who would know what to do to help a person recover from a stroke. The private doctor from Djilor had been by a few times to give George an IV and meds, but George has always been freaked out by needles, or so I was told. After sitting a bit, I got up, telling him I needed to go take a bucket bath. The last words he spoke to me were “Reti bogoox,” or “Go, bathe!” [To those who knew me in my Group Workcamps days, this is quite a fitting phrase…] Around 8, I was called to dinner by my 8 year old sister, saying as she had for the past year and a half “Mame Mordou says to come and have dinner.” Out of habit, having briefly forgotten about the stroke, I walked into his room where several of his grand children and myself usually eat meals with him, but I was quickly brought back to reality. George was turned over on his other side and as tried to greet him, he barely looked at me. He looked in severe heart-breaking pain. Ndiaye was waving a hand fan on him and Njira was trying to give him some pain medication and I felt like I was intruding on a private, painful moment, and left as I was summoned into the hallway to eat dinner there instead. He passed minutes later, but no one in the family was told until after 9:30 that night. As I went to my room praying for his healing, I didn’t realize that God had already taken care of it. No, when I ran out of my room at 9:30 or so, running from the army of cockroaches that had taken up all corners of my latrine and making using it impossible, begging the other side of the family to buy cockroach killer for me at the market the next day, I had no clue. I thought it was crazy that when I handed them money for the poison, they weren’t sure if they were going to the market the next day or not. But I didn’t know. In fact, my brother Ibou (one of George’s oldest sons) specifically waited to tell everyone so that he could call relatives in Dakar (he spent all night on the phone and a ton of phone credit notifying people) and they could arrive in our village the next morning in time for the funeral. In Islam, the burial is supposed to happen almost immediately after the person passes on. The body is ceremonially washed and wrapped in white cloth and taken to the mosque and cemetery, but no preservatives or anything are used. Ibou was so good at this in fact, that a Dakar relative then called a different relative in my village to let them know they were coming because of the funeral, and the person in my village was all “George died?” Ibou didn’t tell the village until the 5am call-to-prayer marking the last day of Ramadan. From my journal,“I woke up around 7:15 to sweeping outside my hut and Rhoky knocking to tell me the sad news. I was shocked, and thankful that he didn’t have to suffer anymore—not to mention extremely grateful that I had (barely) made it back. I quickly changed, brushed up on my Serere condolences and grabbed a 5mille note to go pay my respects to Mame Dibbor, his 1st wife/widow…then I basically stood/sat around for several hours, in shock and unsure about what to do…A crowd quickly started to gather as relatives from Djilor, Gague, and Dakar arrived, plus others from Ndiomdy. It was tragically sad as people walked in with red eyes, crying, or even wailing.” (back in real time, aka October 16) The elders of the village washed and clothed the body in the traditional white fabric as HUNDREDS of people from all of the surrounding villages showed up throughout the morning (as many as 1000people that day and hundreds more in the following days). Sitting mats, benches, and a large picnic tent were set up to accommodate the mourners as men started praying. I sat around, mostly silent, as people came in. Many were surprised I was back so quickly (most not having seen me the day before) and then looked visibly relieved when they heard that I had seen and talked with George before his passing. A little before noon, the body was brought out (covered) and the tears flowed as the men of the village accompanied the body to the mosque and the cemetery for burial. It was quite emotional and I don’t really have words for it, even now. After the body was buried, everyone returned and the men circled up and spent the next 2 or so hours talking about George and all of the good he did in his life. The people he helped, the families without food he shared with, the grandchildren he supported through school when their father wouldn’t buy them new clothes or take them to the doctor, and the work he did as a store owner, cowherd (walked across Senegal MANY many times), President of the Communaute Rurale, and farmer. Oh, this all happened the day before Korite (the celebration for the end of Ramadan), so Korite was pretty lame as the village was still in morning. For George’s passing, one of his cows was brought (since George couldn’t really walk, he had a Pulaar family outside our village watch his heards) and sacrificed, then the meat divided up and distributed among the whole village, so Ndiomdy ate beef for Korite. But otherwise it was a lame end-of-Ramadan. The day after Ramadan, another 500 or so people came through and in the week following (and the month too…) visitors from across the country have come to share their condolences. The village will be in morning for some time as we get used to life without George. George, an old man who as much as he would irritate me with his constant marriage proposals, was also one of the most alert and understanding people in my village, in terms of his understanding of my work. He would constantly ask me about projects I would mention (including constantly harassing me to get him his own private latrine behind his room back in May) and also harass me about all of my work and the fact that I never took time to rest. I know that he enjoyed the two weeks between coming back from my US vacay and going to Dakar because I sat around our compound rather than constantly being on the go. He took care of me (I think my eating with him and his grandkids was because he thought I couldn’t get my fair share eating in the chaos of the rest of my family) and made sure I took care of myself. I know sometimes they say someone who is dying may wait a bit for something or someone before they feel like they can properly move on to the next life. I don’t know if it’s true, but I like to think it is. MANY people in my village said that George waited until I came back before he gave in and let God take him back; that George wanted a final few words—maybe that he even hoped I would finally accept his proposal. All I can hope is that my simple gifts of the shirt in August and the dates and tea (a big Senegalese tradition) were enough to let him know I care. I miss him, and I was very hard to hear my friend Seynabou (and others…) say to me, “George left you [me],” but it’s true. The village is sad, I’m sad, and they know and understand how sad I am. They have found their way into my heart and I think I have found my way into their’s. He was a good man and may God keep him in Paradise. ---------------------------------------Thanks and sorry for this being long-winded and kind of nonsensical and sentimental. Hopefully there will my a more upbeat and light-hearted post next time around.

Hi Everyone! I'm back in Kaolack, but only overnight. I really just came to grab my computer and head back to site again, with barely even a chance to check my email (of the 60 in my inbox, I read maybe 7, all from you guys though!). It was a rough week and a half at site, for many reasons, but that post will have to wait another few weeks. It's mostly written but this connection is too slow for it to be of much use...

Anyways, I'm alive and apart from my itchy pre-Dakar spots returning the moment I returned to my site, and mold taking over almost everything in my hut, I'm doing well and thinking ahead about the last 7 or 8 months I have here in Senegal. The Rainy Season is ending, school is starting in a few weeks (Inchallah), and work is picking up again, so I'm trying to figure out the best use of my time here. Our internet hasn't gotten set up again since moving to a new Kaolack House, but hopefully soon because I have a ton of stuff to take care of (PC work, updates, grad school, etc).

Ok, that's all. More later, I promise! Love and miss you all!

(written while I was in the village) So normally I’m extremely against Twitter (insert comment about its creepiness/voyeuristic/self-indulgent, etc here), but lately (probably because of all of the celebrity gossip magazines Jodi keeps me stocked with) I’ve been thinking of certain aspects of my life as a series of “Twits” (did I really just type that?) or Facebook updates (I know, I know…). I’ve recently found myself at a loss for blog ideas because I’ve basically “gotten over” some of the more minute (or more “interesting”) aspects of my life, which may or may not be of interest to you, my loyal reading public. J So, over the next week or two, I will fake “Twit” while I have nothing “exciting” planned, to see what interesting things happen in my life. Thursday, August 20, 5:15pm “What, has no one walked into the garden since I left? My tree nursery is totally overgrown and the weeds are taller than me! (or almost)”6:50pm “Stupid football (soccer) players destroying my young mango trees. As much as I enjoy tree planting, I could never be an AgFo because I can’t stand knowing not all of my trees will survive.”Friday, August 21, 11:15am “New addiction: Sudoku puzzles, shoot!” (I was temporarily out of desirable reading material)3:23pm “Sowe (homemade yogurt—ie spoiled unpasturized milk) destroying me from the inside out…”Saturday, August 22, 7:45am “First day of Ramadan and woken up at 5am not by the mosque call to prayer, but by an army of frogs in compound croaking away loudly. Happy fasting!”7:30pm “I think I have bed bugs. Or clothes mites. Or both…so much itching!”Sunday, August 23, 8:15am “Waiting for breakfast. Bro coming with milk straight from the cow—can’t wait! It's been two months since I’ve had milk and couscous!”9:30am “I just killed my first scorpion (it was in my hut, behind my med kit) and found an empty condom wrapper outside my front door. My work here is done.”4:45pm “Bethany’s bad idea of the week” trying to beat a big rainstorm…getting soaked as it starts pouring less than 1km outside of town and having to walk the 3+km barefoot back to my village, fording the river that my dirt road becomes during the rainy season. Umbrella not big enough. Soaked through and through."5:10pm “Still walking barefoot in the rain. This is becoming comical. I really am the crazy laughing white girl of my area.”5:35pm “Finally made it home. Brothers think it’s hysterical. ‘You’re wet.’ ‘No, I’m not wet at all, thank you very much.’ (sense sarcasm…)”Monday, August 24, 8:40pm, “I just carried my dad on my back for the first time ever! Good thing I didn’t drop him!”August 25 “Though they taste good, Starbursts are not actually real fruit…” (I went 12 days without eating any fruit at all!)August 26? 8:28am “Why do I keep having a dream about being a new employee carrying around a trashcan at a giant movie theater? Oh mefloquin.”8:04pm “When you pour fish juice on my foot, dinner’s over.”August 27 “I hate being woken up at 3:40am by anything—be it mice in my hut or these spots all over my body itching like crazy.”9:15am “What would I do without (raw) milk and millet during Ramadan?”10:45am “Bethany is counting down the days ‘til she can burn her old underwear for COS.”4:10pm, “So glad I liver near a river, this is awesome!” (spent the day working, relaxing, and swimming at the river)8:10pm “Mm chicken here is soooo good! (beans too!)”August 28, 9:53pm “Bethany thinks more of her friends should figure out skype and/or international texting. It’s really not that hard and then I could hear from people more often. Hint hint. J “10:44pm “When you keep totally screwing up the sudoku with incorrect answers, it’s time to turn off the headlamp and go to bed.”August 29, 11:23am “Weeding a rice field is what I imagine mowing the lawn is, without a lawnmower.” (see pictures on Picasa)August 30, 2:57pm “I would kill for a cold drink right now…” Well, even looking back over these “Twits” and random comments, my past two weeks really have not been very interesting at all, oh well. Work-wise, I’m at a fake temporary work lull as I’ve been calling it. I’ve been outplanting most of the remaining trees from my tree nursery and doing a lot of weeding, but nothing much else. People are in the fields and fasting for Ramadan, so no one is around and when they are, energy is extremely low. School is on summer break for another month and a half. I have some project evaluations to do, as well as grant-writing and event planning for future activities, but I have to talk to some people here in order to totally finish them. I have a village survey to do for PC, but I don’t have the questions and no one is around right now to talk to for the answers, which also means no one has time for health talks, etc. Everything else is computer work, like the Serere dictionary. It’s ok, I’m enjoying this downtime, riding, doing Sudoku, and whatnot. I need to enjoy it while it lasts, I can already tell the next few weeks and months will quickly fill up and I only have 8 months left here! P.S. Anyone, anyone at all, interesting in coming to visit me here? Come on, ya know you want to J