I am officially a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV)! Today is my last day in Senegal and in a mere 12 hours I will be on a plane en route for the United States of America. I spent the day shopping in downtown Dakar for souvenirs and at the Peace Corps office turning in the endless forms that are required to get the heck out of here. I'll be headed out to dinner tonight to a little seafood place on the water to bid some friends adieu and I'll watch the sunset in Senegal for one last time.

I'm in total disbelief that I am, in fact, finally leaving the country that I've called home for two years. On one hand, it seems surreal that I actually made it this far, and on the other I can't imagine ever having doubted my personal ability to finish my service. Through good times and bad, my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer in Senegal will forever be etched into my memory, and in many ways it has changed me for the better. The memories I've created with my host family, work partners, and other volunteers will last with me for a lifetime and while the process of saying goodbye and letting go has been emotionally difficult, I am definitely ready to go. It's time to get a move on and go home.

Ba beneen yoon, Senegal. Thank you for an unforgettable two years.

See you soon, America!

I'm currently in Dakar after officially saying goodbye to Pout yesterday. Before Katherine and Alyssa arrived, I sat in my house staring at my luggage and wondering when the tears would start. I nervously checked my email and paced around my house, assuming that anything I could do to waste time would make everything magically better. I couldn't bring myself to go inside my family's house to start the goodbyes until after I had gone to meet the sept-place on the main road and we pulled up outside of my house. Then I essentially became a giant mess for the next ten minutes.

My family and the sept-place driver helped me load all of my stuff into and on top of the car, which ended up being way more than is physically possible for me to carry. I hugged my uncle Cheikh and my brothers Moussa and Baba goodbye and told them to behave and that I would miss them; Ousmane was no where to be found, which is fitting because his love of soccer frequently overrides his ability to make it to any family event on time.

Next came my mom, which was the hardest of all. She started tearing up before we made it out of the compound and I was actually really surprised to see her crying at all. Senegalese people, especially women, are raised to stifle any and all emotions and crying is considered a sign of weakness. I hugged her and refused to let go until she finally told me that I needed to get in the car and leave. She held her shirt over her face to hide her sobs, and in the meantime poor Katherine and Alyssa were standing there crying too. I can imagine after already going through it on their own, it was emotionally draining to be watching another goodbye. It's the crying moms that really get to us.. I squeezed into the middle seat of the sept-place with the two of them, since literally every inch of the rest of the car was filled with our luggage and random bags. I waved goodbye to my family out the window while continuing to have a good cry, and with one turn of the corner, they were out of sight.

My explanation of all that doesn't really do justice to how I felt yesterday. The sadness that we as Peace Corps volunteers feel saying goodbye to our families is different than any sadness I've ever known. When I left my real family two years ago, I was heartbroken to leave them behind and terrified for what was to come, but I knew inevitably they'd be waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic. With my family here it's a different story because any fear I had of returning to the US has long ago subsided and I may seriously never see them again. My life in Pout with my family was never perfect, sometimes frustrating, and always an adventure. In the end, a thank you to my family will never be enough; they were, after all, big part of the reason I survived two years in Africa. I will remember them always.

Once we pulled away from my house in the sept-place, Alyssa and Katherine immediately went to work on lifting our collective spirits. Katherine's portable speakers came out and "The Star Spangled Banner" was belted out of the car while Alyssa popped open a bottle of champagne out the window. I have never laughed and cried so hard simultaneously in my life. It was a brilliant moment. We toasted to making it and I lifted my glass to Pout as we drove out of town.

We then proceeded to make our way through two bottles of champagne and a half bottle of liqueur de Warang en route to Dakar. It definitely would have been much more difficult without the two of them there and the ride ended up being a happy concoction of reminiscing about good times and stuffing our faces full of cashews. Once in Dakar, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and attempted to keep the momentum going by repacking bags and talking about what we'll all be doing in the States.

Our good friend Jack invited several of us over to his new apartment for cocktails in the evening. We tried to look like normal Americans complete with showers and makeup and showed up with armfuls of delicious appetizers from a local grocery store. After piling on the emotions the last several days, a night with great friends and relaxing conversations proved to be a much needed respite for our frazzled nerves. It was a perfect way to end a day that had begun in such a hectic, gut wrenching way.

I'm sitting here in my empty room awaiting the inevitable. Katherine rented a sept-place in Bambey and has already left her house. She'll swing by Thies to pick up Alyssa before heading to Pout, the last stop en route to Dakar. My bags are packed, my house is (somewhat) clean, and I'm feeling okay. But not great. I'm really just avoiding thinking about closing my door for the last time and walking out of here. It's strange and wonderful and heartbreakingly sad all at the same time.

I don't think I'm ever fully prepared for goodbyes. The other day when I confessed to my mom that this whole process was much more difficult than I thought it was going to be, she just laughed and said "of course it is." And she's right; of course it is. Pout was my home for two years and hard times be damned, I still will miss this town and these people dearly. It's a dirty, smelly, chaotic, beautiful place and I'll keep a little piece of it with me always.

This blog post won't be the cure all to my cathartic goodbye needs; the process of letting go and squeezing myself back into an American life will take some time. I don't expect it to be all sunshine and rainbows, but I am so, so happy to be going home. It's been a long road...but I made it!

I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this again before I am officially stateside. I'm headed to Dakar today to spend the next 4 days there saying even more goodbyes and preparing myself to go. I've got some final interviews and medical exams with Peace Corps and then my flight officially takes off early Wednesday morning, destined for Washington, D.C. The United States of America. The Motherland.

In the words of one of my very first blog posts... I'll see you on the flip side!

Today was my last full day in Pout. I decided to take my camera out on my run this morning since it's the last time I'll be down any of the paths that have become so familiar to me. I waved at the women who sell mangoes along the national highway and who always clap for me as I run by; I bid each of them a silent farewell since it's the last time they'll see the crazy toubab go jogging. During my run I was distracted by taking pictures and dreading the looming goodbyes, but it felt good to get one last workout in.

my running path

a paved road that stretches for miles and miles into the countryside

cattle graveyard

After visiting the Pout post office one last time and saying goodbye to everyone who works there, I stopped by my counterpart Harke's house. I've been to his house countless times, and yesterday morning didn't really feel any different. At first I didn't get the sense I was even saying goodbye; we watched a soccer game and talked about random life happenings. He eventually moved onto the delicate subject of the goodbye and said some of the nicest things any Senegalese person has said to me here. My relationship with Harke has been tricky at times, and I've felt frustrated with him at various moments throughout my service. Inevitably, his personality is Senegalese and that created tension sometimes with my American way of doing things. However, through it all, he has been a great work partner and I will miss him dearly. Before saying goodbye, he told me he was proud of what I had accomplished and that I will hold a special place in his heart as his "first volunteer."

My counterpart Harke and his family

After a few quick pictures, we headed towards the other end of town, walking along the main road through clouds of dust kicked up by horses. We said our final goodbye at a bend in the road and I couldn't help thinking at that moment about how the first time I met him he was wearing a Green Bay Packers' hat. It was indeed meant to be. We shook left hands and parted ways.

I headed to my friend Daba's house (the family who used to live with us) because I couldn't possibly leave Pout without saying goodbye to her. When she opened the door, Ahmet ran full speed into my arms yelling "Khady!" which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. His older sister Maimouna was sadly not there; those two kids are by far my favorites in all of Senegal and I will miss them dearly. It's difficult to think about all the milestones and growing up I've witnessed over the course of two years, knowing that I might not ever see them again. Daba and I chatted while Ahmet climbed all over me like a wrestler. I've very much enjoyed getting to know Daba and her family, and she will always remind me of what an intelligent, ambitious Senegalese woman looks like. My goodbye with her was definitely sad, but it was the last of the difficult goodbyes outside of my family, and I think I was too emotionally drained at that point to get too choked up. We exchanged emails and hugs and I thanked her for allowing me to feel like part of her family. With that, I headed home.

My last Senegalese lunch was somehow anticlimactic. My mom was not her all-star self yesterday and our cheb-u-jen was far from delicious. I suppose it was fitting though, that my last lunch was a sub-par version of the national dish of Senegal. Oh, how many times I've eaten it and longed for a cheeseburger. I snapped a few pictures of the family, but retreated to my house before long, still in denial about leaving.

I spent several hours during the afternoon packing and making my house as presentable as possible. I'm sure my mom will deep clean it before Andrew moves in at the end of August, but the Type A in me can't leave it dirty. I was faced with the hard, cold reality that one suitcase is indeed not a lot of space. One of my checked bags will be a rice sack full of the giant wooden chairs I bought from an artisan here; they weigh what seems like 100 pounds and I'm beginning to wonder if it was a good idea. Regardless, they're coming back to America with me and that leaves me with one other checked bag in which to stuff everything else. I'm terrible at letting go of physical things and even called Katherine to coach me through a "suitcase cleansing." I finally managed to get the thing closed, so it will be interesting to see how much it actually weighs at the airport. That could be a disaster.

Later in the evening after I had finally finished cleaning everything up, I received a knock at my door. It was my brother Moussa to whom I had already said goodbye, back for a surprise visit. Apparently his exam for that day had been cancelled and he came back to say one last goodbye. I was overjoyed to see him. A while later, my friend Thilor stopped by to say goodbye. I had tutored her last summer to take the SAT, and wonder of wonders she evidently succeeded because she'll be going to the Universty of Rochester in New York this fall. It's hard for me to believe, as Peace Corps volunteers constantly hear Senegalese dreams of going to school in the States and it never seems to happen. She is actually going. My brain cannot fathom what it will be like for someone who has never left Africa to move to someplace so foreign (and cold!). I'm very proud of her and hope to somehow see her over the course of the next 4 years. She brought me a pair of fabulous Senegalese sandals that I will be wearing home on the plane next week.

The time for my last meal with my family had finally arrived. I had told my mom I wanted to do something special for the family so I gave her money to buy nice cuts of meat and all the fixings. My little sister Khady came over and we enjoyed a delicious meal together. It's been a long while since we ate a dinner together as an entire family. We shared some Fanta afterwards - a Senegalese favorite - and talked about my impending departure. It was oddly happy. No tears were shed (although I still haven't left at this point...). We took a few pictures, I gave Khady a final goodbye hug, and I excused myself to go to bed as if it was any other normal night. Falling asleep last night wasn't difficult. My mind wandered to the things still on my to-do list, but it didn't feel like my last night. I guess that's just my brain's way of staving off an emotional breakdown. I haven't physically left the country yet, so perhaps that remains to be seen...

last dinner

Ousmane, me, Khady

My wonderful family

Before I head off into the sunset and leave my Senegalese life behind, I need to take a moment and give credit where credit is due. These thank yous are in no particular order and certainly don't cover everyone (or everything), but it's a start.

SenegalThank you Senegal, for welcoming me, hosting me, embracing me in your hot, smelly arms, and most of all, for challenging me in countless ways and proving that I can hack it.

The United States Postal ServiceThank you USPS for providing me with countless cards, letters, and packages that have made their way across the Atlantic to my little post office box in Pout. I'd like to marry the man who created flat rate boxes. I will never again underestimate the power of a care package.

Mom and DadThank you Mom and Dad for everything you've done. You let your only child ship off to Africa and never once questioned my sanity (that I know of). I truly would not have made it the last two years without your guidance and continued support.

Peace Corps SenegalThank you Peace Corps Senegal for letting me join the ranks of a wonderful worldwide organization and allowing me to serve here. My service may have been rough at times, and there may be a black hole in the Peace Corps office into which all of our paperwork seems to disappear, but I've felt supported along the entire way and I'm proud to be a part of this program. Also, thank you for letting us have beans for breakfast at the training center. That's awesome.

The Pirate BayThank you, Pirate Bay for revealing my love for Africa's non existent copyright laws. You have provided me with hundreds of hours of entertaining torrents that have made the time here go by just a bit faster. I would not have experienced the wonder of terrible American television, Billboard's top 100, or GRE PDF files without you.

SandraThank you, Sandra ice cream bar. Even though your name conjures up the image of a socially awkward middle aged woman, your low, low price and fake sugar content have provided countless moments of happiness. How did we not know about you for an entire year? I will think of you fondly as I decide amongst tubs of Ben & Jerry's in my local grocer's freezer.

This American LifeThank you for providing me with hours upon hours of entertainment while criss crossing Senegal in sept-places. I am constantly amused and don't even feel guilty when Ira Glass tries to solicit listeners for donations because hey - I'm poor.

SkypeThank you Skype for allowing me to communicate with loved ones back home and abroad. Being a Peace Corps volunteer has been made exponentially easier with you in my life.

My Senegalese FamilyA big thank you to my Senegalese family who have given me a home away from home for two years. You have welcomed me into your lives, given me a place to live and a place to feel safe. You've fed me, done my laundry, consoled me when I was down, made me laugh, and most of all made me realize how much I will miss you once I go. You will hold a dear place in my heart for years to come.

My American Family Thank you to my extended family back home for all the love and support sent across the Atlantic since I've been here. Your cards, letters, pictures and emails have kept given me the encouragement I needed to keep going. I've missed a lot of milestones the past two years, but I intend to make up for that by staying on American soil for a while!

Free Peanuts at Pamanda'sYou indulge me in a way nothing else can.

Catholic CompoundThank you Catholic Compound for providing an alcoholic outlet for trainees and volunteers within walking distance from the training center. You may just be someone's backyard instead of an actual bar, but that gives you character. I will always remember our end of training party and the many other nights I've spent enjoying your cheap beer and drunken clientele.

My BlenderThank you, blender, for being a totally unnecessary but awesome addition to my life as a Peace Corps volunteer. It's hard not to see the bright side of things with a cold banana-mango smoothie in hand.

Mrs. Titche and Mrs. OnyshkoYour packages have brought countless moments of gastronomical joy and American happiness to our group of friends. Seriously. What would we have done without the "war chest" in Alyssa's room or the seemingly endless supply of Velveeta cheese, sausage, and boxed wine? It's just not appropriate to imagine my service without these indulgences.

NikeThank you Nike for giving me a pair of shoes that have somehow lasted this long. I've run hundreds of miles in and around Pout and while my shoes are finally showing some wear and tear, they've taken a beating and held up quite nicely. I will be throwing them in the garbage right before boarding a plane, but don't take it personally.

SteveThank you Steve for being you. Thank you for all of your letters, for listening to me ramble on about life in Senegal during our Skype dates, for hosting me in Cape Verde, and most of all for giving me something wonderful to look forward to. I'll see you on the other side of the Atlantic.

My Friends in the StatesThank you to all of my wonderful friends in the States who kept up with my story and kept me going these past two years. Receiving cards, packages, emails and updates about you has made me feel like I've remained part of your lives and reminded me how much I care about all of you. Jules, I can't thank you enough for continuing to be my dearest friend and supporting me from the very start. I can't wait to see all of you stateside!

Blog ReadersThank you to all of the people who still read this crazy thing. Whether I know you personally or not, I truly appreciate you following along with my adventures. I hope I have been at least somewhat entertaining. Thank you for the support.

My Peace Corps FriendsThank you to all of my fellow Senegal PCVs and volunteers I've met in other countries along the way; you are all amazing. You have enriched my experience here, and I will forever cherish the memories I've created with all of you. A special thanks to Alyssa, Katherine, and Tamar for being such important parts of my life as a volunteer. I'm positive that no words exist for how thankful I am for all of you and I honestly would not be here if it were not for you. Peace Corps has given me an inner strength I never knew I possessed, but I would have ET'd long ago if it weren't for the support from you guys. I look forward to our fabulous foursome taking America by storm and all the good times ahead.

Yesterday was rough.

I've thought about the process of saying goodbye for some time now. I pictured it being emotional and difficult, but the truth is, I've been in denial about the actual leaving part. On Wednesday, once I had recovered from my whirlwind demyst weekend, I stayed in my house all day and started the daunting task of packing. I made it though all of the paperwork scattered throughout my room and started a massive "donation" pile to my family of everything I won't be bringing with me back across the Atlantic. If living in a developing country didn't make me want to tone down my life, seeing the amount of crap I've accrued over the course of two years in one giant pile certainly did. This process took most of the morning and then I hid in my room the rest of the day. I should have been spending quality time with my family or venturing out into Pout to bid someone adieu, but I just couldn't muster up the energy to do it. I was pretending it was like any other normal day.

Yesterday I could no longer put off the inevitable. The first stop of the day was my friend and former Wolof tutor Yacinne's house. It's hard to describe in words how much my friendship with Yacinne has meant to me. I've attempted to blog about her before, but without being a fly on the wall during our conversations I suppose it would be difficult to understand. She's just different, in a good way, and has been a comfort to me for the past two years. We talked about how far I'd come in my service, and how my Wolof skills never quite ascended into language glory. She recounted tales of her "first great love" - a man she was with for over 7 years before her family forced her out of school and into a marriage with her current husband. I took the opportunity to finally admit to her after all this time that I am, in fact, not married. She instantly laughed and told me she figured that out a long time ago (sigh).

Saying goodbye to Yacinne was difficult not only because goodbyes are inherently sad, but because I just wish so badly that I could magically change her circumstances. It's not that she isn't happy per se, but she certainly isn't living the life she had imagined for herself. But alas, it is not my place to step in, even if I could. She's a strong woman and doesn't pity herself so she'll continue to live her life, one day at a time. After sitting in her room for a long while with her son Babacar snoozing on my lap, I finally made the move to leave. We took a few pictures and she gave me a necklace as a going away present. We walked a few blocks down the dusty road connecting her side of town to mine and when the moment arrived to finally part ways, I lost it. We shook left hands, which in Senegalese culture signifies an improper goodbye so that the traveler must return again. I attempted to hide the tears behind my sunglasses but it was no use, and after a quick hug she turned away to hide hers as well. I waved goodbye and walked away.

I made my way to the Mayor's office, attempting to choke down tears and hold it together in public. I was greeted by my supervisor and an assortment of characters on the front steps. Ousmane and I talked briefly and then we made our way through the office so I could wish all of the office workers au revoir. I was racking up left hand shakes by this point. As my emotional instability had already been indulged by Yacinne, there was no need to be sappy with Ousmane. He has been a great work partner and many of the accomplishments I can look back on are thanks to his willingness to collaborate with me. Inevitably, we became friends, but our relationship remains professional and he is already talking about potential projects he can take on with my replacement. I will always look back with fondness on working with the Pout Mayor's office, regardless of how many times I found Ousmane doing a Sudoku instead of working. As we walked towards the front gates I stuck out my left hand, but was granted a big bear hug instead. It was a fitting end.

En route back home I stopped by my favorite boutique to buy yogurt for the last time. Seriously, I must have gone through over 50 tubs of yogurt the last two years. I think I'm their best customer. I explained that I was leaving for good and the boutique owner made a last ditch effort to convince me to marry him. Thanks, but no thanks! Once back in my neighborhood, I made the rounds to the other two boutiques I frequent. I thanked the boutiquiers for always being so kind to me and (almost) always having everything in stock. It's going to be strange to live in the United States without a little Senegalese boutique around the corner. I suppose our version of that is the nearby Walgreens but do those people know your name and ask you how your family is? It will be different.

I spent the rest of the afternoon getting in some Skype calls, writing letters, and coming down off of the emotional high of the morning. I thought a lot about this process of saying goodbye. It's draining and frustrating because I feel like there's really no way to do it "correctly." I find that the physical act of parting ways doesn't live up to these romanticized moments I've formed in my head. Maybe that's a defense mechanism on my behalf so as not to become too emotional. It's also probably due to how excited I've been about leaving for so long. The sad farewells are, in the end, no match for my eagerness to get on a plane next Wednesday. In any case, checking off the important goodbyes certainly does bring closure to this experience. And the goodbyes, they continue...

I made it to Thies on Friday just in time to join Alyssa and Katherine for our last lunch out in Thies. Afterwards, we stopped by the jewelry maker who Alyssa works with, Madame Ly, to bid our goodbyes. She is an incredibly sweet woman and insisted that we each take a hand-made necklace home with us as a going away present. Gifts in hand, we headed back to the center to await the highlight of the day: site reveal for the trainees. Now that the trainees have been here for about a month, they are finally told where they will be living permanently once they finish training. As is tradition for all training groups, the trainees were blindfolded and led out to a giant map of Senegal painted on the group of the Training Center. Since there were only 17 of them, it was fairly easy to place them all exactly where they will be living.blindfolding the traineesmy replacement Andrew (on the right) and Jonathan I had known for several weeks who my replacement was going to be (barring anyone quitting early) but it was exciting for everyone to officially find out. His name is Andrew and he’s a recent Purdue graduate who studied Advertising as an undergrad and is now ready for a two year stint in Senegal. Finally being able to talk to him one on one about Pout and everything that my life has entailed in Senegal is really great. It’s also very strange; I never had the chance to meet the volunteer here before me so it seems like a daunting task to try and explain what I’ve been doing for two years to someone. But, exciting nonetheless! After the site reveal, the current volunteers took the trainees out for beers and their first taste of the infamous “Chicken Dibi” which is our favorite hole in the wall restaurant in Thies. Saturday morning Andrew and I, as well as another trainee named Jonathan, packed all of our stuff into a cab and headed out to Pout for “demyst.” Demyst is short for the French word “demystification” or Peace Corps slang for volunteer visit. Jonathan is actually opening a new site on the coast near Dakar but because no one is there to host him, it made sense for him to spend the weekend in the next nearest site which happens to be Pout. Once we arrived Andrew got the chance to meet most members of the family, imcluding Yaay (mom) who was much more shy than usual. I imagine that dissipating quickly once he moves in. We spent most of the morning wandering around Pout, buying vegetables to for making dinner and visiting the Principal at the middle school. Andrew seems really happy with the situations he’ll be walking into, especially with the living arrangement. There are already plans for tiling floors and building cabinets and a paint job (desperately needed!). One of the highlights of the day was when Andrew received his new name (i.e. Yaay randomly pointed at him and gave him a name in between bites of food at lunch). He will officially be Ousmane Diallo for the next two years, named after my youngest brother.That evening I organized a meeting with all of the scholarship girls I've been working with so they could meet Andrew. He'll be taking over the scholarship program once I leave and will also be accompanying all of the girls to the 2nd Annual Thies Region Girls' Camp in September. They all seemed a bit shy to be meeting him but I imagine they will warm up to him once they get to know him better. Later on in the day, we made a pit stop at “Bar Eden,” which is Pout’s only watering hole and is frequented by many local Catholics who can actually drink, and Muslims who “cheat” and drink anyways. We toasted to Pout while the seedy local drunks provided entertainment and then went home to make a delicious pasta dinner before calling it a night. Having Andrew and Jonathan here certainly was a welcome relief from being the only toubab in town, not to mention the fact that it’s actually socially acceptable to go to a bar when you’re not by yourself. Life in Pout is very low key on Sundays and there is never much going on, so we figured we should get out for a bit. We decided to pay a visit to the Keur Moussa monastery so Sunday morning we were up early and headed there via public transportation. We met up with Alyssa and her replacement Nancy for Catholic mass and a massive picnic afterwards. It was bittersweet to be at Keur Moussa for the last time since I’ve visited many times throughout my service and I have a soft spot for their famous goat cheese. Our picnic was quite the spread and included cheese, fresh baked bread, apples, grapefruit, homemade jam, and chocolate; a lunch of American proportions. We made it back to Pout in the afternoon, hung around for a bit and then headed out to explore. We ended up going to a local Senegalese barber shop so Jonathan could get a haircut which was actually a hilarious experience. The Senegalese guy had to whack off his hair with scissors first and then gave him what was basically a black person’s hair cut. It also included a shave with a fresh razor blade and Jonathan looked terrified. As soon as we walked out of the barber shop, kids started calling him “Chinoise” which is the French word for a Chinese person thanks to his new ‘do. We also made a stop by my Wolof tutor Yacinne’s house so I could introduce her to Andrew. I’m not sure if he’ll end up wanting to use her as a Wolof tutor as I did, but she’s one of the nicest Senegalese women I know, so at least he’ll have a local friend. After a stop at Bar Eden where we were becoming quite popular, we headed back to my house to hang out for the rest of the night.

On Monday, Jonathan was picked up by one of the Peace Corps staff members so he could spend the day in what will be his permanent site near Dakar. Andrew and I headed to the post office where we talked with the manager about changing everything over to his name and then headed to my counterpart Harke’s house. I’ve been really impressed with Harke’s tenacity and involvement in my service the last two years. I wasactually a bit surprised to hear how excited he was for Andrew’s arrival, only because I imagine dealing with me for two years was a bit exhausting. He seems ready and willing to take on the responsibility of being Andrew’s counterpart, which makes me feel like Andrew will be in good hands. It’s an odd feeling talking about all the work we’ve done together and knowing the torch will soon be passed on. I can’t wait to hear about the work the two of them end up doing together.Andrew and his new counterpart, Harke Harke accompanied us to the Mayor’s office where we were greeted by my supervisor Ousmane. Ousmane was of course happy to hear that Andrew will share his name. We spoke with him briefly, and then met with the Mayor of Pout is his swank air conditioned office. We discussed the work I’ve done here and how Andrew will be taking over for me, and also discussed a bit of local Senegalese politics while I attempted to sound as neutral as possible. The Mayor told me I’ve done some great things and thanked me for my service on behalf of all of Pout, and admittedly, it felt really good. It seems I left him with a good impression and didn’t make that big of an idiot out of myself the last two years. After a brief detour to show Andrew the local library, we headed back to my house and lounged the afternoon away to escape from the heat. Jonathan rejoined us later that night and recounted tales of his day long site visit. It sounds like he really enjoyed it and luckily for him, if he never needs a break he can come visit Andrew in the Palace de Pout. Yesterday was our big Demyst Daycation excursion to Mbour with the entire Dakar region and all of their replacements. Andrew, Jonathan and I left Pout early to make it to Thies in time to meet everyone at the garage. Before that though we attended to very important business; changing the internet bills from my name to Andrew’s so he can indulge in the wonder that is DSL in Africa for the next two years. After everyone had met up at the garage we rented an incredibly slow and rusty mini bus to get us all the way to Warang, which is a town slightly south of Mbour about an hour and a half from Thies. We visited the Warang distillery where we had a wonderful liqueur tasting and spent a couple hours enjoying the beautiful scenery. There were about 25 of us in total, so it was great to get the entire region together one last time. Afterwards we hitchhiked back into Mbour and ate lunch ocean side at a great little French restaurant. We toasted to our new replacements and enjoyed each other’s company before it was finally time to put down the wine and head back home. Alyssa stormed the Mbour garage in all her feisty glory, rented us a mini bus and back to Thies we went. The mini bus was en route to the Training Center so several of us had to jump out on a corner in order to get to the Thies garage. My goodbye with Andrew was rushed as I was being hurried off the bus; it was extremely sad to say goodbye after spending a great weekend with him. At the same time, it’s very comforting to have met him and know that my crazy rollercoaster of a journey here is finally complete. His arrival marked the beginning of my end and now that demyst is over, I have a real sense of closure. Pout will be anxiously awaiting his arrival at the end of August and the cycle of volunteers will continue on. Thank goodness for technology because I’m excited to follow his service and watch him make Pout his own. I am definitely leaving this quirky little town that I have come to love in good hands. Cheers to you Andrew!

I realized today as I was writing about the 4th of July that my Senegalese family rarely makes appearances in my blog posts. That's really unfortunate and a poor decision on my part because the truth is, they play a large role in my life. I guess they are just such a regular fixture in my Peace Corps experience that I find myself writing about things that are more out of the ordinary (or more heavily food based...)

It's strange for me to think that not all countries in the Peace Corps worldwide community provide host families for their volunteers. In fact, Senegal is one of the few countries that does. When I was visiting Cape Verde in April it struck me how different life would be if I was living on my own or with another American instead of my family. Although sometimes I do feel like a child again - constantly being asked where I'm going, being told I don't eat enough every single day, and having a "curfew" - the positive aspects of life with my Senegalese family drastically outweigh the negatives. In the end, my experience was made better because of them.

Living with my family for two years has inevitably created bonds. While my Yaay (mom) and I aren't always on the same page, let alone speaking the same language, we've managed to come to know one another astonishingly well. I can tell immediately when she's in a bad mood or having a rough day, and I've counted personal victories when I can make her laugh during those instances. Usually it involves me making an idiot out of myself or making fun of my brothers, both of which tend to happen almost daily. My two youngest brothers and I don't hang out that often, but they know that in order to use my internet or phone they will be forced to tell me all about school and girlfriends (those are always interesting conversations). We joke around, I put them into headlocks, and they tell me they won't miss me. But I know they're lying, and that's the hard part.

Tonight was my first real goodbye and the gravity of leaving is starting to become a reality. My oldest brother Moussa is a university student and is in the midst of two weeks of intense final exams. He had a test this morning and came back to Pout immediately afterwards in order to see me one last time before he leaves since he will be headed back to Dakar early tomorrow morning. He and I have shared a very close bond for my entire two years and he is by far my closest Senegalese friend. I hoped that I would be close with my Senegalese family as a whole, but I never pictured having the relationship I do with Moussa.

We sat outside on my porch as it grew dark and watched the bats fly overhead, criss crossing in the moonlight. He asked me what I'll be doing in the States and I tried my best to explain my ever-changing plans for my future. I asked him about his girlfriend and school and told him I better have a standing invitation to his wedding when he gets married (I'm secretly hoping that will happen many years down the road so I don't need to make a trip back here quite so soon). Most of all, I told him how much I'll miss him and how strange it is to be saying goodbye, not knowing when I'd ever see him again. He told me he will always be my brother and attempted to look away when he teared up. I cried by the end of our conversation, not only because I'm terrible at goodbyes, especially with people I care about, but also because it hit me: this is it. This is the beginning of the end and all of those goodbyes I've been pictures are actually going to happen. As many bad days as I've had in Senegal and as much as I've wished so desperately for July to get here as soon as possible, leaving this place will still be difficult.

I've got one goodbye under my belt. In terms of Senegalese goodbyes, that one was by far the hardest so I'm glad it's over. God bless the age of technology; all of my Senegalese brothers have Facebook accounts, so I feel fortunate it will fairly easy to stay in contact with them. I'll still be poking my nose around in their lives from across the Atlantic so they'll just have to deal with it. For now I'll relish the time I do have with them all until I ride off into the sunset.

I can officially say that I have never been so patriotic as I have been living here. Distance truly does make the heart grow fonder, and my love for my homeland has never been stronger. Being away from America for two years certainly makes me realize how wonderful of a place I belong to, flaws and all - and as I've said before, there are indeed flaws. Regardless, I plan on enjoying every second of my return to the Motherland; so soon!

Since most of the PCVs in country were down in Kedougou celebrating the 4th like we did last year, we figured Dakar was the next best choice. After a long trek from Toubab Dialaw to Dakar in nasty traffic, we finally arrived at the regional house completely famished and day dreaming of American food. After the necessary shower break, we jumped into cabs and headed to the American Club. The Club was dressed in it's American finest, complete with dozens of flags and patriotic bunting that we lovingly included in our photo. We weren't sure what to expect in terms of food, but we were impressed by the spread and inhaled delicious cheeseburgers that actually tasted like cheeseburgers. I think the Senegalese wait staff was a bit disturbed by my excitement for cheese.

During lunch we were provided with "entertainment." The American Club's idea of entertainment was several Senegalese clowns running around doing seemingly dangerous acrobatics with small children and dancing inappropriately with Mickey Mouse marionettes. I am terrified of clowns; this was my personal nightmare. I tried to avoid eye contact and focus solely on my beer. Clowns aside, it was really nice to spend a couple hours relaxing pool side with other PCVs and get the American time we needed. Katherine came up with the brilliant plan to high five for every year that America has been America. That's 235 high fives throughout the day. I think we might have been up to the Civil War when we left the American Club.

From there it was off to the downtown area to attempt to make a Close of Service bracelet order. In the Dakar region, it's tradition for all of the 2nd year volunteers who are about to leave to purchase silver Close of Service bracelets engraved with our Senegalese names. Our go-to silver guy wasn't there, so Alyssa and Katherine agreed to try again the next day (turns out they were successful, so our bracelets should be ready before we leave!) Still on an American food high, we made a bee-line to N'ice Cream which is the best ice cream place in Dakar. We indulged in "Obama Cookie" ice cream in honor of our President and then headed back to the regional house. The food binge did not end there (I am no longer ashamed about how much I write about food). Dinner was bacon mac n'cheese made with a pound of Velveeta cheese shipped from the United States. There cannot be a more deliciously fattening meal. We ended the day by watching "The American President" and continuing our 235 high fives. God bless America (and God bless cheese).

We spent the next day at the Peace Corps office tackling our Close of Service to-do list. Actually leaving this country and accomplishing all that is necessary to do so has become a part-time job. I completed my final physical and went on a scavenger hunt around the office searching for signatures from various people. I also closed my Senegalese bank account, which in true Senegalese fashion, turned out to be a several hour affair. In order to close a bank account here one must pay over 60 USD and jump through several paper based hoops. It's all a bit ridiculous. After doing just about everything I could manage in one day, I headed to the garage and jumped in a car back to Pout.

Tomorrow I'll be in Thies for the big site reveal day! The SED trainees will find out their permanent sites tomorrow afternoon. I already know who my replacement is but it's been hush-hush since everything will not be technically finalized until tomorrow. I'm so pumped for my replacement to finally find out where he/she will be going. On Saturday we'll both be headed back here to Pout and my replacement will spend the weekend with me getting to know Pout and the work I've done. Exciting times!

Birthdays galore! Before celebrating the birth of the Motherland, we celebrated the 26th birthday of our lovely friend Tamar this past weekend (and Alys, too!) In lieu of another Thies lunch or a trek to the same go-to Peace Corps beach spot, we decided to try something new. One of our friends who has already left country used to rave about a certain beach destination called Toubab Dialaw which is slightly south of Dakar and where the Dakaroise (rich Senegalese people from Dakar) and French tourists like to go. Aside from being enticed by the Atlantic and a chance for a relaxing weekend, we were also drawn to Toubab Dialaw for another reason: crepes. Our friend, who is indeed a gourmand, had raved about a beach side restaurant that serves amazing crepes. We were sold.

Last Friday morning I met Alyssa, Katherine and April at the Thies garage and we were joined by a PC response volunteer living in Thies plus two of her friends. We rented a sketchy van that was supposed to only seat seven and reeked of sheep pee. Score! After a short drive we reached Toubab Dialaw and checked into out hotel. The hotel was, in a word, bizarre. It was a huge complex with random dormitory style bungalows adorned with tropical trees and flowers; it also felt like we were walking into a weird African style Medieval Times. The doors to all the rooms were giant castle doors and everything had a strange old time-y feel. Oddness aside, the price was cheap and it was minutes away from the crepe restaurant. Double score!

Once Brian and Tamar - the birthday girl - arrived, we spent the rest of the day lounging around on the beach and enjoying our first of many visits to the crepe restaurant. I made Tamar wear a bejeweled princess crown that someone had randomly sent me. She wore it the entire day, even in the water. Birthday champion! We drank boxed wine, played in the ocean, and per usual, I bathed myself in sunscreen only to end up sunburned regardless. Oh, African sun. I won't miss you in Seattle. That evening we all went out for a romantic candlelight pizza dinner at a local restaurant to celebrate Tamar's birth.

Girl selling mangoes near the beach

The next day started with crepes (obviously) and was spent doing nothing but enjoying the beach and the company of good friends. Aside from the occasional harassment from Senegalese men on the beach, the day was very relaxing and a little bittersweet since it was the last time any of us will enjoy a Senegalese beach. Needing a brief repose from crepes, we decided to try a different beach side restaurant for dinner. The restaurant owner ended up recognizing the jewelry we were all wearing because the artisan who makes it (and who works with Alyssa) happens to be her good friend. Because of our random connection, the woman wanted to make us her "special platter." Lord knows we've had our share of bad meal choices in this country, but we figured we should take the chance anyways. We ended up with an AMAZING meal; grilled fish, grilled chicken, various shellfish, mashed potatoes, salad and coleslaw all served on a giant platter of deliciousness. The night was made perfect with cheap wine, a beautiful sunset, and great conversation. Senegal for the win!

The ladies and Brian in Toubab Dialaw

The next morning we were up and at our crepe place for the third and final time before renting a sept-place to get us all to Dakar. The brief beach vacation was a perfect way to prepare mentally for the hustle and bustle of the next two weeks, and a great segue into another important birthday: America's!

I can officially say as of today that I leave this month!

I have all of these blog ideas swirling in my head. I imagine sitting down and actually writing an "emotional piece" on leaving Senegal and saying my goodbyes. I also picture writing a long list of things that I will miss coupled with things that I will definitely NOT miss. I find that the things in this list have a tendency of switching positions constantly; some days as I'm wandering around town I can't wait to get out of earshot of screaming African children and other days I find myself getting misty eyed at the thought of never seeing them again. Regardless, those posts will have to wait because I can't bring myself to write them quite yet.

This past week has gone by rather quickly. On Monday I headed to Thies and spent the majority of the day helping with various medical sessions with the Peace Corps medical staff. It's always hilarious to talk with trainees about case studies of various ailments and strange diseases that might occur during their two years because. I remember hearing about all these weird things with names like creeping eruption, Dengue fever, and schistosomiasis. They sounded made up but also terrifying at the same time. The trainees had their share of wide eyed moments and looks of sheer terror listening to the med staff, but the truth is only a few of them will ever deal with any of these scary happenings. On Monday night I attended a birthday dinner bash at Massa Massa, my all time favorite restaurant in Senegal; last time ever! I ate my weight in lasagna and it was glorious.

Shortly after dinner we received word from our Safety and Security Officer that a protest had spilled out of the market and rioting was beginning throughout Thies. As Katherine and I were hailing a cab we saw a truck full of gendarmes with riot shields and tear gun canisters speeding down the main thoroughfare. Upon reaching the Training Center we learned that the riots had grown violent and that we were no longer allowed to leave after dusk and would have a 7pm curfew the following night. Admittedly, I had no problem staying behind locked gates at the Training Center; rioting isn't exactly something I'd like to get involved in. The rioting has since died down, and as of writing this post our curfew has been lifted. I still won't be roaming any Senegalese streets after dark in the near future.

Tuesday was spent hunkering down and finishing my COS report and it feels wonderful to have completed it! It's a weight off my shoulders to finally have everything down on paper and exactly one week from today I'll be handing it to my replacement. I also took my final language test with a Peace Corps language instructor. While the test wasn't too intimidating, especially since I know the instructor well, I still felt like I fumbled with my French. I ended up with an advanced level though, so it's good to know I didn't backtrack after two years! Vive le francais.

Alyssa, Katherine, and I participated in one last session on Junior Achievement with the trainees on Wednesday morning. It will be interesting to see how quickly the trainees become acclimated to the program once they move to their permanent sites. According to unwritten Peace Corps law, at least one set of JA classes are now required of every volunteer in the SED program so I'm excited to see how that all turns out. I hope my replacement doesn't mind me stalking their blog and/or sending them sporadic emails about all the goings on.

The big event on Wednesday was the final "Ladies (and Gents) Who Lunch" luncheon at our favorite lunch spot, Pamandas. Loyal to the very end, we all showed up in our Thiest Region t-shirts. I feel so fortunate to have been placed in a region where I had the chance to become so close with a great group of people. Peace Corps placed 7 lovely ladies in this region and it seemed like kismet from the start. My best friends in Peace Corps have been the other Thies girls and it makes me wonder what my service would have been like if I had been placed elsewhere. In all honesty, I'm not sure I would have made it this long without them. Saying goodbye is going to be brutal. Hopefully the next batch of volunteers who take our places will keep keep the regional pride alive and enjoy afternoon beer breaks as much as we did!

The ladies and Brian

Tomorrow marks two weeks left in Pout, and in honor of our last free weekend, Tamar's birthday, and the 4th of July, we're headed to the beach. Maybe I'll magically end up tan after all? On the 5th I'll be in Dakar completing one of many Peace Corps appointments that need tackling before I head off into the sunset. I'll be back in Pout shortly thereafter...and then my replacement will be here at the end of next week! My how time flies.

The rains came yesterday. I walked into the bathroom to shower as sunlight was streaming in through my windows and when I stepped out my house had grown dark and the air felt heavy. Katherine had sent me a message: "stay inside, storm coming." How very convenient to have a friend living in the path of weather systems en route to my house. She's my own private meteorologist.

And the rains did indeed come. Within minutes the wind picked up and scattered earth and dust into the air, turning the sky an eerie, rusty red. When the rain hit, it hit with purpose, announcing its 9 month absence with gusto. Even the lightest of showers on a metal roof are amplified, so this was a freight train. I took a video of the rain gushing off the roof of my family's house, turning our courtyard into a lake, so that I can remember what these African rains are like. There may be rain in Seattle but it is nothing like this. It lasted for hours but eventually died down, languishing into a drizzle for a few short minutes before stopping suddenly, as if the faucet had simply been turned off. Welcome, rainy season; you are my third and last!

Blessed with a cool breeze and reason not to navigate the muddy streets of Pout, I stayed in and finished my Close of Service report. It's many pages longer than I had originally intended and while I like to think this is because I just have that many projects to write about, its length is partially owed to my ample wordiness. And rambling. I do have a tendency to do that. It feels strange to have completed it. Writing about my family was more challenging than I imagined because my thoughts about them and relationships with them are mine and mine alone. Leaving out details became purposeful; I don't want to plague my replacement with predispositions on their support network for the next two years. My catharsis about all that will hit me at some point outside the realm of a neat little paper package.

Finishing Peace Corps paperwork is only one task in the lengthy list of things to do. As my life back in America creeps closer, I'm spending more and more time thinking about the transition. I'm making real concrete plans now and the once fuzzy post Peace Corps months are coming into focus. With a few holes, of course. Anyone want to hire me? The task of finding a job is made more daunting by being physically removed from the actual country I'd like to work in - same goes for apartment hunting. I'm trying to ease some of the natural panic in my head by telling myself that it will be much easier stateside.

Tomorrow I'm off to Thies to spend three days with the trainees. This will be my last legitimate time at the training center until I find out who my replacement is in a couple of weeks (so soon!). I also scheduled my final language interview, so one of the Peace Corps language instructors will be testing me to see what level I'm at. I'm not even going to attempt a test in Wolof as that would be a joke, but let's see how awesomely bad my French skills are!

After less than a week away, I was back in Dakar on Tuesday for Junior Achievement's annual festivities. My Senegalese boss was kind enough to drive Alyssa, Kerry and I to Dakar in his classy purple Peugeot so the ride in was easy.

On Tuesday evening we attended a cocktail reception at the US Ambassador's ridiculously nice house. It was a hoppin' event, complete with many honored guests from the Senegalese government and local NGOs and of course the US Ambassador herself. I also met the Vice President of Junior Achievement for all of Africa and it was great to speak with her about the program here in Senegal and how much we've all enjoyed teaching. Apparently there is a Junior Achievement office in Seattle so I'm hoping I can get involved somehow once I'm back stateside and settled. We also watched a television segment that's currently being aired on Senegalese national television in which Alyssa and I starred. By starred, I mean I said some awkward things in French and Alyssa had one hilarious line. The best part was we were both wearing the same outfits that we had on in the video. What can I say, Peace Corps volunteers are poor and nice clothing is scarce!

at the US Ambassador's house, actually looking clean

Wednesday morning we all headed to the national theater in downtown Dakar to celebrate Junior Achievement and the students who have completed Junior Achievement courses throughout the year. The theater was packed with Senegalese students from various middle schools and high schools, all of whom were beyond excited. In typical Senegalese fashion the program included many long speeches, but also several presentations by student groups who have created business ideas in their Junior Achievement classes. One group that I found particularly amusing called themselves "Delicious Pancakes". The program concluded with performances by several famous Senegalese musical artists and an impromptu dance fest on stage. speech by the US Ambassador, Marcia Bernicat

Delicious Pancakes!

We headed back to site on Wednesday afternoon and apparently it's a good thing we did because Dakar has seen a frenzy of violent riots and protests since then. The protests were in response to a proposed change to the Senegalese constitution on behalf of the President that would have made it easier for him to be reelected. I won't comment on the nature or politics of the protests, but I will say that everything is normal and calm here in Pout. Peace Corps as an organization has received negative criticism lately in regards to their safety and security programs, but Peace Corps Senegal handled this particular situation very well and I continue to be impressed by their attention to volunteer safety. As usual, I feel secure at my site, but I definitely don't plan on visiting Dakar for a little while. If you'd like to read about the protests, check out these two news articles:

http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/06/23/us-senegal-protests-idUSTRE75M6G020110623

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-13895089

My replacement is here! The future volunteer who will replace me in Pout disembarked from their international flight last Wednesday along with 16 other Small Enterprise Development trainees. Although I don't know which trainee will be filling my shoes once I'm gone, knowing that they are here in country makes me feel like my service is finally coming full circle. COS Conference didn't leave me with a feeling a closure; meeting all the new SED trainees definitely made me realize that closure is on the way.

On Thursday morning after our COS Conference had come to a close, our country director picked up several of us at the hotel and drove us out to Thies to spend the day with the trainees. Several bold volunteers had woken up the previous morning to meet the trainees at the airport at 5 am, but I resigned to meet them when I was a fully functioning human being. Once in Thies, a group of us spent the morning giving short project presentations to give the trainees a taste of what kind of work is waiting for them. Among the topics were artisans, Junior Achievement classes, eco-tourism work, cross-sector collaboration and waste management; all were followed by intriguing questions by the trainees and left us thinking wow, we actually sound like we know what we're talking about. During my training, I remember being totally clueless about what the SED program was all about and what, if anything, I might accomplish. I hope our presentations provided insight for the trainees in regards to actual work they might do. Or at least made them realize that the SED program is totally badass.

I spent the rest of the day hanging out at the center, answering impromptu questions from the trainees and trying to get to know them. As a group, these trainees are older than we were on average, generally have loads more experience than we did, and have a better incoming level of French (seriously, they make us look like a bunch of schmucks!) I was instinctively on the lookout for anyone who appeared to be generally scared out of their minds in hopes to appease them; after all, my emotional investment stems not only from the fact that these are future SEDers, but also because one of them will be moving to Pout. He or she will live with my family, continue with some of my work projects, and create a life here in Pout that will be both very similar and drastically different than my own. Next month each volunteer who is being replaced will "demyst" or host their replacement at site for several days in order to show them the ropes. I plan on wasting no time in showing he or she why Pout is fabulous, complete with mango smoothies of course. It's all very exciting! I can't wait to find out who will be continuing in my footsteps.

In other news, the exhaustion of COS conference took its toll on me and smacked me upside the head with a vicious head cold. Yesterday I woke up feeling like I had been run over by a donkey cart and have not done much of anything since. Sleeping has become my main priority. I'm hoping I can shake it off because I'm supposed to be going to Dakar on Tuesday for a Junior Achievement reception at the US Ambassador's house (fancy, right?).

Jamm ak jamm

My "Close of Service" conference is officially complete. It's bittersweet to be able to say that, and while the title of the conference suggests that some sort of closure was a conference accoutrement, I really don't feel it. At least not yet.

On Sunday I headed to Dakar from site and hung out at the regional house until it was time to check into our hotel. The main purpose of the COS Conference is to bring together everyone from our original Fall '09 Peace Corps group one last time in order to sift through the piles of paperwork and information that is necessary to wrap up two years of service. I must admit, the Peace Corps did a great job of spoiling us by putting us up in a swanky hotel and stuffing us full of unnecessary amounts of food. I brought running shoes and pretended I was going to use them (they never made it out of the backpack). We spent the first night relaxing poolside and catching up with one another; it was somewhat surreal seeing everyone in the same place at an official Peace Corps function since those occasions rarely occur. Out of our original starting group of 55, there were 45 volunteers who made it all the way to COS Conference. Several volunteers "early terminated" and left Senegal within the last two years, a couple were medically separated due to various medical issues, and several had already finished two years of service by the time COS rolled around because they were transfered here after the Peace Corps Mauritania program shut down. Senegal actually has one of the lowest "early termination" rates of any Peace Corps program worldwide, so we were proud to be 45 strong at the end.

Monday was the first day of the actual conference and we spent the majority of the time reviewing our Peace Corps experience, discussing how our various acquired skills can be applied to future careers, and going over all sorts of administrative procedures to ensure we can actually get on a plane and leave the country. Since my plane ticket is already booked I found those parts particularly intriguing. On Monday evening a group of us enjoyed some brewskies at a surfer bar, went out to dinner and then out to the bars. I was basically falling asleep in my beer. It's shocking how draining it can be to emotionally dissect two years of one's life. Capsulizing that amount of a time is simply impossible. Or at least it will be for me until I'm back in the United States and it's sunk in that it's all really over.

On Tuesday morning we spent several hours speaking with a few guest speakers from USAID, the United Nations, and other NGOs in Dakar. Later in the afternoon the entire group headed to the American Club for a reception and another Q&A session with public sector employees from various international agencies. The speakers not only provided us with insight into the world of overseas development work after Peace Corps, they continually reminded us not to downplay our experience as Peace Corps volunteers. I think it's easy to forget that there are very few other organizations out there in which people are working on such a grass roots, local level; as Peace Corps volunteers we become closer to our families and communities and more intertwined with local culture than any other NGO could dream to be. While it's true that this proximity to Senegalese people and culture can also cause a lot of the headaches that accompany Peace Corps life, it was nice to be reminded that yeah, I am a badass. Thank you very much.

Admittedly, my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer has changed my mind about pursuing any sort of international development work. I have "back to America" blinders on right now so listening to the development workers speak about either returning to Senegal after service or choosing to move here for their jobs made me think: you are all officially insane. But I suppose a lot of that is the two years of fatigue and homesickness talking. I often wonder where along the way my desire to work abroad officially went missing. Maybe it's still there buried somewhere and will reveal itself again someday, and perhaps I will never think twice about staying put in America (most likely the latter).

Most of Wednesday was spent wrapping up and trying to bring some sense of closure to our service. Our Country Director invited the entire group over to his house for dinner as a thank you and to give us one last night together. We took some of our last group pictures and I showed a slideshow I had put together of everyone over the course of the last two years. It was a very strange feeling to look around the room and know I might never see some of these people again. Even though I'm not extremely close to everyone from my stage and we all had vary different experiences here, they represent a tiny portion of the world population who actually gets my Peace Corps experience. We all boarded that plane together just under two years ago and soon we'll all be headed back to start all sorts of other adventures. There are a few brave volunteers who are choosing to extend their service by 6 months or even a year; I just smile and nod at them when they tell me why and then picture myself eating a Chipotle burrito. While I am itching to leave and counting down the days, the whole thing is really, really sad.

I think it will take me quite a while to really sort through my feelings about leaving and saying goodbye to these people, this place, and this life. I imagined myself at COS Conference as a blubbering idiot, crying a lot, struggling with the words I wanted to say to each person I'd be saying goodbye to. I mean, I cry at everything. Really. But those feelings never came and I found myself in complete denial of what was happening and just enjoyed the time with my fellow comrades. The nostalgia and sappiness will definitely kick in when I get in a car to leave Pout and my faily, and even more so when I'm en route to the airport. But I bet I'll find myself really, truly taking it all after I've been back in the States for several weeks. It will just take time I guess.

In counting down the days and weeks until my service is complete, much of my time has been taken up by completing a Senegalese "bucket list" of things that I want to do before I leave. My good friend Tamar lives on an island down in what's called the Sine-Saloum river delta and I've been telling her I would visit her since she moved there in October of 2009. Well, time is running short, so the ladies and I finally made a group trip to Mar Lodj this past weekend.

Last Thursday I met Alyssa and Katherine in the Thies garage for an early morning departure. Katherine, working her seemingly endless garage magic, managed to get us the last three spots in a car headed to Joal which is a coastal town about halfway between Thies and Tamar's site. I like to think I helped the situation by eating my weight in cashews while we waited to leave (seriously...I've developed an unhealthy addiction. They're just so good!) Alyssa and I had already picked up some food supplies for making dinner on the island, but when we reached Joal to change garages we were on the lookout for shrimp. We searched high and low, but no shrimp were to be found.

We did however have the most randomly delicious lunch ever. As we were walking towards the garage in the midday sun (I'm sure I was already sunburned at this point), a random guy walks up to us and asks if we'd like "something with bread" for lunch. After already scavenged for food at two closed hotels, we were up for anything and followed this mysterious man as if he had promised us filet mignon. I would have been happy with a bean sandwich, but instead the dude - who turned out to be the owner of a small restaurant - set us up at a table overlooking a river with real glassware and silverware. We were served huge plates of chicken, salad, fries and bread for the equivalent of $3 a piece and none of us could really believe what was happening. What was this magical place? We ate happily. And then I saved a puppy from drowning in a fish farm pond. All in a day's work.

Filled with chicken, we headed back to the garage where we were told that a car had just left for a town called Ndongong, which sits on the opposite side of the river from Tamar's site. We were offered a seat in a completely empty bus which would have taken hours to fill. A random taxi driver was loitering around the bus and I happened to ask him how much it would be to rent out the car to get us there. He quoted the same price as a pass on the bus and we all burst out laughing; he just stood there with a confused look on his face. We rushed him to his car and threw our bags in, hoping he wouldn't come to his senses and realize he was totally being ripped off (I think this is the one and only time in Senegal where someone has quoted me a price for something and I thought I heard wrong because the price was too low). Off we went through the salt flats and arrived in Ndongong about an hour or so later.

We took a short boat ride across the river and then walked to Tamar's house which sits near the shore. We were greeted with open arms by Tamar, her friend Laura who was visiting from the States, and our friend Byron who had accompanied Tamar and Laura on a several hour boat trip earlier that day. The group of us took a tour around Tamar's site and village, met Tamar's host family and all her adorable host siblings, and then enjoyed a cold beer at the only "bar" in town (i.e. tiny room with one table). We called it an early night after a delicious pasta dinner and liquor tasting courtesy of Tamar and Laura's visit to a local distillery.

Awkwardly navigating our river boat

Mar Lodj is full of Catholics! (yay)

Cold beer? Don't mind if we do.

The following morning we indulged in a delectable Tapalapa breakfast. Tapalapa is what is called "village bread" and unlike the French baguettes that everyone eats which are processed and have zero nutritional value, Tapalapa is a really dense bread that almost tastes like ciabatta bread. The Senegalese consider it food for poor people which makes no sense because it's infinitely better than machine made French bread. There's one dude who sells it in Pout and even then he's only there on some days so I literally jump up and down with excitement when I see him. He probably thinks I'm crazy.

After breakfast, we took a charette (donkey cart) all the way across the island to a little beach campement that is owned by some Senegalese friends of Tamar. We spent the day lounging by the beach, eating a delicious fish lunch, and jumping off the docks. I lost my fake Ray Bans because it's not actually a good idea to dive face first into water while still wearing your sunglasses. Surprise. We also spent way too much time trying to figure out how crabs breathe...as in, how they can stay under water so long and then run around on land. We were really confused (and apparently conversation topics were lacking at that point). Turns out, crabs have gills just like fish do, so they can breathe underwater and when they're scooting around on land they need to keep their gills moist in order to take in oxygen from the water. Now you know! Hooray for crab facts.

Outside the campement

Once back at Tamar's house, we started preparing an elaborate all-American chicken dinner. We had "ordered" two chickens from Tamar's village that morning and invited Tamar's host mom and sister to dine with us. They showed up with the chickens and plucked and butchered outside of Tamar's house. We insisted that we cook for the women, and they were obviously hesitant in entrusting us with preparing a meal, but we succeeded in shooing them away. After a failed attempt at grilling over a wood fire grill due to damp firewood, we eventually panned fried the chicken in enough butter and oil to kill a small child. We also made heaping piles of sweet potato fries and onion rings and served the women on a giant platter. It was probably more chicken than they had ever eaten, and they even finished the onion rings! We were shocked as the Senegalese typically refuse to put anything in their mouths that isn't exactly what they are used to. We also had our fill and after cleaning up we headed for bed.

Before calling it a night I couldn't help taking in the unbelievable view of the stars in the night sky. Courtesy of the lack of light pollution, they totally blew me away. I will say that my envy of Tamar's site runs deep with it comes to its tranquility and natural beauty. Pout officially has neither of those things. While I'm glad I have the creature comforts of a bigger town and can sit here writing this blog thanks to internet inside my house, I truly miss being somewhere beautiful. When I move back to America I'll be saying goodbye to the Midwest and making Seattle my new home and I could not be more excited. I'm a bit terrified of starting from scratch, but the thought of being close to the ocean, mountains, and more natural parks than I could ever have the time to explore makes the change worthwhile (not to mention I'll be close to the Mom and Steve will be there too which is a major bonus!).

We packed up and headed out of Tamar's site early Saturday morning. After a lunch in Thies with Kerry, the Peace Corps Response volunteer, to discuss upcoming Junior Achievement training for the new volunteers, I was back in Pout by late afternoon. I can't believe the new kids get here next week! My future replacement will be officially stepping off of a plane next Wednesday. It's crazy.

Since being back in Pout this week I've been somewhat busy wrapping up various things. I held my final Junior Achievement class on Monday and handed out certificates to all of my students. It was truly bittersweet knowing that it was the final time I'd be teaching in Pout. My students claimed that they really enjoyed the class and that's all I can ask for (they also claimed they actually understood the material which is always a plus). I also finished all but one of my Michele Sylvester Scholarship interviews and managed to track down the girl who was MIA. Turns out she lives three houses away from me. Go figure.

Final Junior Achievement class (single tear)

I was originally planning on spending most of this weekend up in St. Louis for the annual Jazz Festival, but thanks to my recent excursions I am close to broke. I don't regret any of the trips I've taken though and avoiding Jazz Fest allowed me to have a week to relax and recollect myself. On Sunday I'm off to Dakar for my Close of Service conference. It will be the last time I will ever be with my entire Peace Corps group! I'll be there until Thursday and I probably won't see many of them again after we all part ways. It will be a very strange experience and just another step among many in the long process of "letting go" of Senegal.

Pictures are up in the album "Last Months in Senegal." Jamm ak Jamm

Hooray! The girls' scholarship process has finally kicked off. Last Friday I had a meeting with eight of the nine scholarship candidates (only one didn't show which I would consider to be a great success). The secretary at the middle school, Thiara, has been an absolute God send and helped me organize our first meeting as well as give recommendation sheets to professors for each of the candidates. Lord knows when I'll get those recommendations back, but hopefully it will be soon. During the meeting, I explained the scholarship program to the girls and they all wrote short essays about what they want to do in the future and why education is so important. We also chatted about the 2nd Annual Thies Region Girls' Camp to which they are all invited and I think they were all legitimately excited. Three of the nine candidates also participated in the program last year and have kept their grades up enough to be amongst top students again. It was great to see how proud they were while talking about their participation in the camp with the newbies. I'm personally disappointed that I won't be able to be a part of the camp again since it won't take place until September, but alas, my service needs to end at some point.

On Sunday I started with home interviews and visited two of the candidates. This process is definitely easier the second time around and I feel much more confident sitting down with parents to explain why some random white girl wants to give money to their daughter and invite her to a camp seemingly far away from home. It really is great to have conversations with the girls' families; so far they have all seemed extremely supportive of both the program and the continued education of their daughters. I only hope that this is not a show for my sake and that the girls truly do feel encouraged at home. Yesterday I had random interviews scheduled throughout the day and I'll be continuing on today. By this weekend I should be finished with all but one; the girl who was MIA at the first meeting is still mysteriously impossible to find.

Tomorrow I'm off to the Sine-Saloum delta to visit my friend Tamar for a couple days. I've been telling her I would visit her since she moved there at the beginning of our service, and time is growing short. She has a friend here from the States and they've been traveling all around Senegal for the last week. This past Saturday I spent the day with them in Thies, and then we all spent the night at mi casa in Pout. On Sunday morning we ventured out to the Keur Moussa monastery (quite possibly my favorite place in Senegal) for Catholic mass and a delicious goat cheese & grapefruit picnic. My friend Erin was also randomly there with her parents who are also visiting from the States, so we had a great time sitting outside, enjoying the weather, and talking about how crazy everyone's Senegal experiences has been. I'm really excited to finally get down to Tamar's little island; we're planning on wandering around the mangroves, kayaking, and enjoying a few days away from the hustle and bustle of "city" life. It should be a great time.

Peace only.

Senegal and I have not been on the best terms lately. Drum parties and mosque chanting keeping me up at night, EVERY night, for weeks on end; constant racial slurs and kids who throw sand in my face; work projects that seem to go nowhere; and to top it off the official arrival of the hottest time of the year. I know that in the grand scheme of things my current issues with Senegal are miniscule in compared to how bad it really could be. But I’m over it. I feel so guilty about not having the same level of motivation that I used to, but since the end is so near I’m finding it really difficult to keep my same mental stride. The last couple of weeks have been a fine line between keeping it together and a mental breakdown. I’m trying my best to stay positive. I only have two months left after all (the American job hunt has officially begun!) and once June hits I’ll be really busy with training the new group of volunteers who are due to arrive. I’ll also be embarking on a trip up to St. Louis the second weekend in June for the annual Jazz Festival with a ton of other volunteers, followed by our Close of Service conference in Dakar. In the meantime, May has proved to be the longest month ever and time seems to have slowed down to an agonizingly slow pace. One thing that does keep me going, no matter what, is the time I spend with the 5th graders I teach each week. I can be in a terrible, downtrodden mood and the second I enter the classroom with them I’m instantly cheered up. I do spend a large amount of time yelling at them to quiet down or attempting to maintain some semblance of order, which is usually an epic fail, but I can’t help reveling in the sheer joy of teaching. This past Monday was the third installment of the 5 week curriculum for my current class. The topic was “the role of government”, and more specifically, how taxes work in our community. Part of the lesson involves role playing; I represent the tax collector and the students split up into two groups of government workers and non government workers. The goal is to show them how everyone (even the President of Senegal and the Mayor of Pout) must pay taxes, and that the tax revenue is then used by the local government branch to pay the salaries of government workers and fund government programs. I think the best moment was when a little boy (who is quite possibly the cutest 5th grader in the world; he has a prosthetic leg and is forced to walk with a limp but never, ever stops smiling) raises his hand and proclaimed, “I get it now! I couldn’t call the fire department if the firemen weren’t getting paid, and they wouldn’t be getting paid if we didn’t pay taxes. So, we shouldn’t hate the tax man.” Voila, kid! I was so proud at that moment. On Tuesday of this week I had a much needed sojourn into Thies to help welcome the new health volunteer who was installed there recently. A big group of us enjoyed a nice lunch and chatted about all of our current work projects. Yesterday I visited the middle school for the umpteenth time and finally managed to scrounge up a list of the top 9 female students who will be participating in the scholarship program. Instead of giving me the phone numbers so I could contact the girls directly, the principal decided it was a better idea to visit each and every classroom at the school searching for them. We literally interrupted every class that was in session, and even if a particular class didn’t have any of the scholarship participants present, the principal lectured the students on how they weren’t as smart as the girls who will win and how “this nice white lady here won’t be giving any of you money.” It was beyond awkward. The principal just laughed the entire time while I was trying to hide my look of horror. The Senegalese system of “motivation” and not-so-positive reinforcement is something I will never, ever understand. Since that little field trip is over, I’m on track to be able to finish the scholarship process. I’ll be meeting with all 9 of the girls tomorrow to explain the process and give them their “entrance essays” which is really just a few questions on why they feel education is important and why they want to continue in school. Insha’Allah, I’ll be starting the interviews and at-home visits with the girls this weekend. I’m excited because I really enjoy talking with these girls and their families, and that will surely get me out of my rut. Ndank, ndank. Little by little.

Almost exactly 22 months down...and a little over 2 months to go. I will continue to marvel at the fact that my Peace Corps service is almost over up until the very last blog post, so my apologies in advance for wearing out the phrase "it's hard to believe." Having all those months under my belt should make the next 2 seem like nothing, but admittedly, time is moving painfully slow. Even frantic job hunting and making preparations for post Peace Corps life can't seem to speed up the hours during which I'm not busy.

I started my last round of Junior Achievement classes this week. I will definitely be a bit heavyhearted each week knowing that it will be the last time I'll teach that certain lesson, but I'm anxiously awaiting passing the torch onto my replacement so that they can (hopefully) continue with JA. Thus far, the teachers all seem on board with allowing the next volunteer to teach the classes in the Fall and continue the progress towards a sustainable program. If Peace Corps works the way it should, I'm surmising that at some point along the line the Senegalese teachers will be able to teach the classes without any need for a Peace Corps volunteer.

My progress with the middle school and the scholarship program is on hold, at least for this week. The professors are still refusing to release their students' grades in hopes that it will give them leverage in bargaining agreements with the Senegalese government. I am unsure of the specifics behind the agreements, and while I'm assuming that the professors have just cause to fight for what they're fighting for, the whole situation could not have more unfortunate timing. School will be out in a few weeks and without actual grades the students in 8th grade cannot take the BFM this summer, which is the entrance exam into high school. They're all basically in academic limbo and I'm sure it's extremely stressful and frustrating for them. I've been pressuring the principal and secretary all week to talk to the head professors on my behalf and persuade them to at least give me the names and phone numbers of the top students. That way, even without numerical grades, I can at least start the scholarship process. Hopefully next week this will get resolved....insh'allah.

In other news, I officially booked a plane ticket home! I will be on American soil July 20th. Having a plane ticket in hand definitely makes it all seem a bit more real. I have also officially decided that I'm moving to Seattle once I figure out how to get myself and all of my belongings out there. I've done a lot of soul-searching in the past 6 months and while leaving the Midwest behind (for the second time) will be emotionally difficult, being near the Mom, having access to the great outdoors, and the chance for a fresh start won out in the end.

68 days and counting...

Almost exactly 22 months down...and a little over 2 months to go. I will continue to marvel at the fact that my Peace Corps service is almost over up until the very last blog post, so my apologies in advance for wearing out the phrase "it's hard to believe." Having all those months under my belt should make the next 2 seem like nothing, but admittedly, time is moving painfully slow. Even frantic job hunting and making preparations for post Peace Corps life can't seem to speed up the hours during which I'm not busy.

I started my last round of Junior Achievement classes this week. I will definitely be a bit heavyhearted each week knowing that it will be the last time I'll teach that certain lesson, but I'm anxiously awaiting passing the torch onto my replacement so that they can (hopefully) continue with JA. Thus far, the teachers all seem on board with allowing the next volunteer to teach the classes in the Fall and continue the progress towards a sustainable program. If Peace Corps works the way it should, I'm surmising that at some point along the line the Senegalese teachers will be able to teach the classes without any need for a Peace Corps volunteer.

My progress with the middle school and the scholarship program is on hold, at least for this week. The professors are still refusing to release their students' grades in hopes that it will give them leverage in bargaining agreements with the Senegalese government. I am unsure of the specifics behind the agreements, and while I'm assuming that the professors have just cause to fight for what they're fighting for, the whole situation could not have more unfortunate timing. School will be out in a few weeks and without actual grades the students in 8th grade cannot take the BFM this summer, which is the entrance exam into high school. They're all basically in academic limbo and I'm sure it's extremely stressful and frustrating for them. I've been pressuring the principal and secretary all week to talk to the head professors on my behalf and persuade them to at least give me the names and phone numbers of the top students. That way, even without numerical grades, I can at least start the scholarship process. Hopefully next week this will get resolved....insh'allah.

In other news, I officially booked a plane ticket home! I will be on American soil July 20th. Having a plane ticket in hand definitely makes it all seem a bit more real. I have also officially decided that I'm moving to Seattle once I figure out how to get myself and all of my belongings out there. I've done a lot of soul-searching in the past 6 months and while leaving the Midwest behind (for the second time) will be emotionally difficult, being near the Mom, having access to the great outdoors, and the chance for a fresh start won out in the end.

68 days and counting...

Anyone who actually keeps up with my blog must think Peace Corps is really just a long string of adventitious weekends that involve parties and trips. I swear I actually do things other than take mini vacations. However, since that seems to be the theme this past month: I'm back from a trip to the Gambia! The Gambia is a former British colony that is completely surrounded by Senegal on all sides, and since my friends and I are leaving soon we figured we should pay it a visit.

On Friday I headed into Thies in the late afternoon after a meeting with Ecole 4 about Junior Achievement. Much to Alyssa's dismay, I missed watching the royal wedding that morning in Thies and my attempt to look at pictures online did not appease her. She forgave me though and the girls and I made a delicious dinner before hitting the hay in preparation for our early morning departure.

Day 1: South of the Border

Early Saturday morning we were all up early and at the garage in Thies. We somehow managed to immediately get a car (this would be the first in a long string of shockingly fortunate transportation occurrences) and were in Kaolack in a few hours. After switching cars in the Kaolack garage it was on to Farafenni which is the border crossing between Senegal and The Gambia. We were stopped by passport control, and although I tried to put the schmooze on and convince the customs officials that we didn't need visas because we were special, my effort was to no avail. After a couple hours waiting to purchase them, we had visas in hand and crossed the border to head east. Our one quandary was attempting to exchange money which proved to be difficult since banks are all closed on Saturday afternoons and conveniently lock up all of their ATMs. We exchanged money with some sketchy dude on a corner and then headed east.

We reached our destination of Georgetown in the late afternoon (or, in the local language Jangjangbureh which is way more fun to say). Georgetown is actually on a large island in the middle of the Gambia river, so we took a little boat across and met a couple of local Gambians who insisted they help us find a campement to stay in. Since we had no reservations and no clue really of where to stay, we took them up on the offer and they led us all over town showing us various lodging. One place was the "Governer's Rest House" which was a building in the yard of the governor's mansion and had creepy bedrooms with bright pink satin bedspreads (no thanks). The place we ended up staying was quaint and super cheap; it had running water which was really all that we could ask for at that point since showers were desperately needed.

We also negotiated a boat tour for the next day with the guides who had helped us find lodging. Our original plan was to hire a boat to the local chimpanzee rehabilitation center which is on an island further down the river. Turns out that island was over four hours away and the trip would have been astronomically expensive. After brief disappointment, we agreed to hire the boat for a couple hours in the early morning and were promised we would see baboons and hippos. After a delicious chicken dinner and cocktails, it was off to bed.

Day 2: Sandbar Hippo Party

Early the next morning, we were up and ready to go see all of the supposed wildlife we had heard about. Our boat was, hands down, one of the best parts of the trip. We lovingly nicknamed it Apocalypse Now, because if you've ever seen the movie you can picture our boat in your head. How a boat made out of what appears to be scrap metal floats down a river is beyond me.

Apocalypse Now?

When we had made boat tour arrangements the day before and the guide promised us hippos, we all were very skeptical. He also specifically said "you will see hippos humping around on a sandbar." I had immediately burst out laughing because I just pictured some musical number from a full length animated Disney movie and could hardly believe that happens in real life. But, down the river we went nonetheless, willing to enjoy the beautiful morning anyways.

After over an hour, with one sighting of a few monkeys, and many sightings of hippo shaped logs and garbage, we were just about to tell the guide to turn the boat around. Then all of a sudden the guide stopped the boat and cruised over to the shoreline and pointed into the forest. We were only a few meters away from a giant troop of baboons running all over the place through the bushes. They were fascinating to watch. Male baboons are really huge up close, and the babies were rolling around tackling each other. I had to believe they felt intruded upon as the males were growling at us and did not look too happy.

The guide insisted we continue on a bit, and we happily obliged, feeling satisfied with the baboon sighting. Then we rounded a bend in the river and the guide pointed in the distance: "hippos!" The boat cruised up to a sandbar where a family of hippos was hanging out in the water. We got about as close as we could without being reckless since hippos are actually extremely dangerous in the wild. And one of them was literally jumping on the sandbar. I could not believe it. I don't think I will ever grow out of my love for animals, especially in the wild, and I completely okay with that. We watched in astonishment until the guide finally told us it was time to head back.

even though you can't really tell, that's a hippo!

When we reached Georgetown again, it was time to start another full day of transportation hopping. The objective of the day was to make it the capital Banjul by nightfall, and we barely accomplished this. From our Apocalypse Now boat, we took a several hour sept-place back to Farafenni where we were the day before, transfered into a rusted out mini bus to the river crossing, took a ferry south across the Gambia river, transfered into another scary mini bus, stopped at a garage to find transportation to Banjul, then took another mini bus for about 4 hours over the bumpiest, dirtiest road in the country all the way to Banjul, and then finally a taxi to the Peace Corps regional house. We were absolutely filthy and I think we actually scared the Gambian volunteers who were in the house when we busted in covered in dirt and sweat. A shower has never felt so good.

As a reward for being such heroic travelers, we went out to Chinese food for dinner. Chinese food in three different African countries: check. On the way to and from the restaurant, it was really interesting to observe how Banjul compares to anything in Senegal. It is much, much smaller than Dakar, but overall I would say appears to be more developed. The Gambia ranks 20 spots higher in worldwide development rankings compared to Senegal and one can see subtle differences that makes this true. The roads are definitely nicer, actual working traffic lights exist, and there appears to be a lot of investment in corporate developments like strip malls and the like.

Full of Chinese food and exhausted from all day traveling, we called it an early night.

Day 3: "It's Nice To Be Nice"

The third day of our trip was our only "free day" that did not involve heavy traveling. We spoke with several Gambian volunteers and they gave us some advice on where to go and what to see. We took a cab into Banjul, which was about as exciting as any Senegalese city tends to be. We saw the infamous "big arch" which is....just a big arch. After walking around the tourist market which proved to be full of Senegalese imports and highly unimpressive, we took a walk along the beach. The beach was actually really beautiful, and would have been very relaxing if not for the Gambian "bumsters" who would not leave us alone. We've all grown accustomed to just ignoring random advances from strangers, but these guys were pros at being unrelenting. They kept chiding us for not talking with them and continued to repeat "it's nice to be nice" which I could not help finding hilarious and said it during the rest of the trip. We had our fill of Banjul and headed back to the area where the Peace Corps house is located to grab lunch (delicious pizza and garlic bread! Is it sad how much of what I write about revolves around food?)

Later in the afternoon we went out to a bar that sat right on the water with several Gambian volunteers. The view was spectacular and we watched the sun set while all sorts of fishing boats brought in their late afternoon catches.

It was great to swap Peace Corps stories and it sounds like several of the volunteers we met will be making their way to Senegal at some point so we promised to hook them up with contacts. We headed back towards the regional house and made a bee-line for the infamous Mexican restaurant that several of our friends back in Senegal had raved about. Trying not to have high expectations, we were actually pretty impressed with the food, although it was overpriced. But still: Mexican food! I can't wait until I am on the same continent as the real thing.

Having already made a pact to go big or go home, we headed to the main bar/club neighborhood called SeneGambia in hopes of finding some random Gambian nightclub with our names on it. However, we were struggling really hard to overcome a food coma and the lack of a social scene. I'm not sure why we expected there to be massive crowds out on a Monday night after a national holiday. But we rallied anyways! I got the inside scoop from a bartender and off to Aquarius we went, which is supposed to be the best club on the block. There were zero people when we arrived and we all burst out laughing. That did not deter us, and we danced the night away. I think the club eventually hit double digits, but the dance floor was basically us and some awkward Gambian guys and we could not have cared less. I also found it amusing that we could watch CNN on a giant TV screen behind the DJ instead of music videos. CNN while dancing to house music is my idea of a good time.

Day 4: Still....Traveling

Staying out really late knowing you need to be up at 5:30 to head home always seems like a good idea at the time. The next morning was quite rough. With a solid three hours of sleep behind us, we were at the ferry terminal by 6:45 and luckily got tickets on the first ferry of the morning to cross from Banjul to the northern bank of the Gambia river. This would have been totally fine, but the ferry took forever. And instead of being seated in a seat on the actual ferry, we had to buy seats on a crazy old scrap metal mini bus on the deck of the ferry to make sure we had transport once on the other side. Rocking back and forth for several hours inside a death trap after a night out is not fun in any stretch of the imagination.

Finally we reached the other side, made our way to the border crossing, and then hired a donkey cart to take us to the garage in Karang, Senegal. I really wanted to somehow ride a train on this trip so I could literally cross off every type of transportation that exists in West Africa. Alyssa and I were shocked to learn that there were direct cars to Thies, so we miraculously bought the last two seats. After a 5ish hour journey to Thies, and then a car to Pout, I made it back home Tuesday night and collapsed into bed. It was a great trip, although a bit of a whirlwind, and I'm glad my friends and I were able to see The Gambia before heading home.

Now I'm ready to tackle May and will be starting my last set of Junior Achievement classes tomorrow. Last night I invited the Peace Corps trainees who live in Pout over to my house for a salad and mango smoothie party: equal parts fun and delicious. I forgot how wonderful a mango smoothie can be! They'll be swearing in as official volunteers next week, which is crazy because it means I am that much closer to finishing up.

Cheers from Senegal!

In Peace Corps life, the idea of "time" has an uncanny ability to constantly throw one for a loop. At the height of Ramadan, when the heat is so intense it physically prevents you from doing much of anything, and work is no where to be found - time could not possibly move slower. When you throw vacations and travel and busy days into the mix, time seems to vanish and all of a sudden it's practically May.

While I've been thinking (and dreaming) about my return to the Motherland for a long while, the reality of leaving didn't sink in until recently. When I returned from Cape Verde last week I turned in my official request to early COS to the Peace Corps office. Early COS (or early "close of service") basically means that I'm requesting to leave earlier than my scheduled departure date. Under normal circumstances, we would not be allowed to leave early without some sort of real excuse (job offer, proof of grad school acceptance, etc). However, the group of volunteers that will be replacing my group is arriving in country 2 months earlier than we did. They'll be here in June, and Peace Corps needs us out of our houses by the end of July so that they can fix them up and prepare them for the volunteers when they move in August. So, I heard word yesterday from the country director for Peace Corps Senegal that our requests are almost guaranteed to be accepted.

I am totally okay with that!

Don't get me wrong; leaving will be incredibly difficult. I've already started to get emotional about saying goodbye to my family, Yacinne, and my counterparts, not to mention all the PCVs I've become so close with. But I'm mentally prepared to start the process of letting go. I've only got 2 1/2 months left in Pout, which may seem like a lot of time, but in the grand scheme of things is nothing. I remember celebrating our first 100 days in country and thinking it was a monumental occasion; now 100 days seems like just a blip on the radar.

I suppose I should save the rambling on about leaving for a later date. I do still have some time, after all. For now, I've been starting the last of my projects and trying to create work that my replacement can jump into right off the bat. Yesterday I met with several members of the administration of Ecole 4, which is another elementary school in Pout near my counterpart's house. They loved the idea of Junior Achievement classes, so I'll be starting with both the 4th and 5th grades next week. I'm a bit disappointed that once I finish with this school I won't have time for the remaining elementary school in Pout, but 3 out of 4 ain't bad. Hopefully my replacement will take a liking to the idea and continue where I left off when school starts in the fall.

I'm also in the midst of starting the Michele Sylvester Scholarship program again with the middle school, but it's proving to be very difficult. The teachers have been striking on and off all semester and they are literally holding their students' grades hostage while the bargaining plays out. Without the actual grades, I can't choose the 9 girls who will be part of the program and thus it's impossible to begin any part of the process. The principal has no clue when he'll have the grades in hand; he claims next week, but I'm guessing that is entirely untrue. I had already started scheduling essays and home visits by this time last year, so I'm getting nervous that the school won't get its act together for me to accomplish this. Cross your fingers!

In other random news, my girlfriends and I are headed to the Gambia tomorrow for a quick 4 day trip. The Gambia is the country completely engulfed by Senegal, so we all figured we should actually see it before we jet off to America. We had submitted a vacation request before we left for Cape Verde, and honestly assumed it was going to be rejected. Peace Corps doesn't allow us to travel within the last 3 months of service, so we were attempting to squeeze in a trip and use all of our vacation days at the last minute. It was accepted somehow and now we're leaving tomorrow and basically flying by the seat of our pants since none of us have been there and don't have much to go on. The tentative plan is to leave super early tomorrow, cross the border into the Gambia at some point, and make our way to a chimpanzee rehabilitation center in the eastern half of the country (I am super stoked about this, and am praying we actually see chimps!). From there, it's back west to Banjul, the capital, for some famous Mexican food, exploring the city, and doing...we don't know yet. It's sure to be a good time regardless.

Random adorable picture:

kids at Yacinne's house eating Peeps on Easter Monday

Happy Easter! Although my Easter did not come with Americans, Easter brunch, or the Catholic camaraderie I am used to, it turned out to be a pretty good day. I went to mass at the Catholic church in Pout...or I should say, in the new Catholic church. When I first moved here and scoped out the church, mass was being held in a tiny, old church and ground had been broken for a bigger and better one. The building is finally finished, albeit a little rough around the edges, so mass today was held there so that all 200 or so of the town's Catholics could fit comfortably. It's certainly a welcome change since seats were lacking in the old one and sometimes benches would randomly break during the service. I kind of like that the church is a bit unfinished. It seems rustic and unpretentious. I was the only white person in attendance as per usual.

After mass I spent the morning being a bum with my brothers and feeding them Easter candy. My Senegalese mom's sister is up from Kolda and several of her friends were over, so the house was bumpin' at lunch time. This afternoon I spent lots of time updating this crazy blog since I was so behind. I really update it more for my own sake nowadays (not that I don't want to entertain you dear readers, but there are approximately 4 of you). When I'm back in the States I want to get the whole thing professionally printed so I can tuck it away and reminisce about Senegal when I feel so inclined. Or show my future kids how big of a badass I was.

Quick shout outs! Aunt Erin, The Onyshkos, Julie, & Zach: a big heartfelt thank you to all of you! I loved all of your packages and was totally overjoyed to see them waiting for me upon my return from vacation. All of the American goodies have definitely made the transition back to reality much easier. My family was a bit suspicious of Peeps but they ate an entire bag of Twizzlers, and somewhere in the compound there's a toddler covered in stickers and wearing a tiara (I'm forcing one of my friends to wear the other one on her birthday in July). Thank you, thank, thank you.

Much love to all and God bless.

Before I begin writing this post, I need to add in a disclaimer: I love many things about Senegal. I love many things about the Peace Corps. I also realize this blog is public, and therefore anyone can read it. Those things being said...yesterday was one of those days that makes me realize why I don't love Senegal or Peace Corps all of the time. To whoever is reading this, know that I am attempting to be neutral in retelling yesterday's events. Honestly, the day was epically terrible, but terrible in one of those ways that's so terrible, you just laugh. The entire time. In fact, I'm still laughing about it. Life in Senegal has taught me a lot of lessons, and I think of the most important ones is how to find humor in every (well, almost every) situation. Allow me to explain.

Earlier in the week my Senegalese program director Talla called me and told me he wanted Alyssa and I to be at a Junior Achievement event that would be happening on Saturday. Of course, I agreed to go as I'm all about Junior Achievement, and I would have been lying if I said I had anything to do on a Saturday. When I prodded Talla for more information, he just said that we would be going to a village and briefly talking about Junior Achievement. He also assured me that we would be home for lunch. Although I automatically assumed this to be false information and brought several snacks, I still had a small shred of hope that it would be a quick morning. Alyssa and I would even be getting picked up by a Peace Corps driver. Sounds like an easy day.

Early yesterday morning I was out on the national road to await my ride. The driver showed up with two Senegalese men who I found out work for NGOs in Dakar. When I asked them what we were actually doing during the day, neither of them knew. Red flag. Then it was on to Thies and after picking up Alyssa, Kerry - the Peace Corps Response volunteer, and Talla it was off to...we still didn't know. When I asked Talla where we were actually going he said "Oh, it's just this little village after Mekhe..." which is a town north of Thies. Flash forward two hours later and we're still driving, now in what appears to be the Sahara desert, going 90 miles an hour through a barren wasteland. I'm really surprised I didn't lose my breakfast since Alyssa and I were shoved in the very back of the Peace Corps land rover and it felt like we were on a roller coaster. I still had no clue what we were doing at this point. When I asked Talla what the agenda was he mumbled something about a graduation ceremony but eventually admitted he really didn't have any idea.

Finally we arrived in a little village in the middle of nowhere, and were greeted by a plethora of Senegalese men who all appeared to be very important. Someone ushered us into a small office inside what appeared to be some sort of communal building. This would have been just fine except a dozen other large Senegalese men also were squeezed into the office with us. We spent the next hour eating beignets, drinking coffee, and introducing ourselves over and over to various people that would squeeze themselves through the door (I also watched one guy in the back of the room shove 4 cans of orange soda in his pants while attempting to be discreet). In trying to politelymove my chair to make room, I managed to hit a table and knock off a coffee tray and cup full of hot coffee which immediately crashed to the floor and spilled coffee all over the place. That was incredibly awkward, especially everyone just stared at me as I could only think to apologize in English. The best part was that there was a television crew in the room for some unknown reason and they got that on camera. After that I spent several long minutes trying to not burst out into laughter with Alyssa. Finally, Talla got antsy and asked why we weren't just starting the "meeting" that was taking place in the other room (...oh my God, did he say meeting?)

Then we all piled out of the tiny office and entered into a big conference room across the hall where there were literally over 150 people sitting and waiting for us. Alyssa and I spotted a long conference table at the front of the room with big, faux leather chairs and immediately panicked. We desperately tried to convince everyone that we could just wait outside, or sit in the back, but resistance was futile. After weaving across the room several times while stepping and sweating on people, and then moving chairs approximately 54 times (because everyone must sit in order of importance and no one knows how to count chairs), Alyssa and I were seated at the end of the conference table in front of everyone. We then had to wait for almost 45 minutes for the main speaker, who is the head of Junior Achievement in Dakar, to arrive. I was no way surprised that we were waiting for her since she has been late to every other JA event I've been to.

And then my worst fear of all became a reality when I realized what Talla had said was true. I suddenly realized only after an entire morning of confusion that we weren't at a graduation ceremony, and we weren't just here to chat about Junior Achievement; we were at a meeting about Junior Achievement. Don't be fooled. The word meeting sounds harmless. It sounds like all that it entails is getting people together in a room, discussing something important, hashing out a plan, getting down to business.... FALSE. Senegalese meetings are a whole other animal. I have been to many and they have all taken on a life of their own, far, far away from any sort of definition of meeting that I'm accustomed to.

I think this was the point when I started whispering "This is my nightmare!" to Alyssa. (I feel like you might appreciate that reference more if you've ever seen the movie "I Love You, Man") I do need to note that my nightmare is not being in a room of Senegalese people. I've had plenty of fantastic times in those situations. My own personal nightmare is being in a room full of Senegalese people during a Senegalese meeting from which there is no escape, both figuratively and literally because there are so many people crammed into the room that everyone is basically sitting on top of each other and if the room caught on fire I would immediately perish.

The first microphone broke within seconds. Since the second one was attached to the conference table, everyone who was speaking had to slowly make their way through a labyrinth of people and chairs up to the conference table. All 14 or 15 of the important people in the room as well as all those sitting behind the conference table had to introduce themselves and go on (and on...and on...) about Junior Achievement. I figured out at some point in time that the goal of the meeting was to introduce JA to this village, but immediately zoned out again. We were obviously there as the token white people. Someone pointed to us twice, but otherwise there was absolutely no reason for us to be at the meeting. Three and half hours go by...

Then someone made an announcement that they would now allow anyone in the room to come up to the microphone and air their concerns about JA (or apparently about Arabic classes which is what one dude talked about for 20 minutes). This went on for another hour and a half while random community members came up to the mic and repeated the same things over...and over...and over...and over... At this point, Alyssa and I were so slaphappy I couldn't stop giggling at everything. After almost two years of Senegalese meetings I just can't get angry anymore. Some giant man in the corner was filming just the two of us the entire time and pretending we didn't notice. Meanwhile, the television crew is still filming and insists on taking candid flash photos of every single person in the room inches away from their faces. The man sitting next to me decided it was a good idea to grunt agreement to every thing anyone said and constantly scratch himself. The temperature must have gone up one degree for every minute we were in there, and I was ready to pee my pants by the end of it. It felt like an eternity...but then, nightmare's usually do.

Finally, we were able to escape. People started filtering out of the room, and by that point Talla was basically sprinting to the Peace Corps car. Talla is the only Senegalese person that dislikes pointless meeting just as much as we do. And thank God for him, because people were obviously agitated that we were not sticking around for an extremely late lunch and further discussions. I think I would have passed out.

A full 9 hours after the "quick morning" had begun, the Peace Corps car dropped me off in Pout and I schlepped my weary self home.

Like I said in the disclaimer, this post was not just meant to be a rant. I honestly was still laughing when we dropped Alyssa off in Thies. This has become my life. It all just seems so ridiculous sometimes. I mean, why are meetings so that inefficient? (And seriously...why was I even there?) I know without a doubt that Senegalese people do not enjoy sitting in hot, sweaty rooms for hours on end, so why do they do it? I counted at least 6 people asleep during that meeting and several others were clearly as agitated as we were. I just don't get it. It's one of those things that will always be a mystery...

Last Monday I returned from a fantastic two week vacation in Cape Verde. As my first time out of Senegal other than a trip home to America, my vacation on the islands was a much needed break from my work and life on the mainland and an opportunity to finally see another West African country. I spent the first week with my three lady friends - Alyssa, Tamar, and Erin - wandering the islands of Santiago and Fogo, and being taken care of by Peace Corps volunteers there. The second week I was off to the northern island of Sao Nicolau on my own to visit my new beau Steve and take in the sights. Cape Verde truly is a different world than what I'm used to (as one volunteer puts it, it's more like "HALFrica" than "Africa" and I would tend to agree with him). Great company, great food, breathtaking vistas, new friends, cabs that actually know where they're going, and memories I will certainly cherish. It was an incredible time.

I'm a big believer in attempting to describe my adventures through this blog. My vacation to Cape Verde was a jam packed two weeks though and I don't feel like my rambling will do it justice. In fact, I know it won't because there's no way I could make the words seem as eloquent as the memories floating around in my head. If you'd like a more in depth analysis of the first half of my trip, check out Alyssa's blog. Otherwise, for my own benefit so I can actually remember the trip, I'm just going to throw in some random snippets and photos from each day. Hopefully the pictures can speak for themselves:

April 5th: Dakar to Praia!

goodbye mainland; hello islands, cabs that have working windows, Kriolu, Portuguese, pedestrian walkways, street food (...what am I actually eating?) Strela, city life, Chinese food, talk of volcanoes, total language barrier, bare knees!, quiet streets

April 6th: Praia to the island of Fogo

propeller plane (white knuckles), aerial volcano view, Josh, Sao Filipe, black sand beaches, sunshine, first plate of Cachupa, grog tasting, vegetables, sweet wine, goat cheese, strawberries!, up into the countryside, Emma, Rachel, cobblestones, school children, guava, total envy (of Peace Corps houses), sangria, chili, swapping stories, neighbors, cheers to new friends

April 7th: Fogo, Up to Cha

winding roads, fresh pavement, tiny villages, volcano!, different planet, Cha, Cape Verdean hospitality, friendly faces, local wine, commencing the climb, our guide Nene, ....hike....hike...hike..., top of the volcano, above the clouds, rock wall of terror, sunset on top of the world, galloping down the volcano side, dirty, filthy, disgusting, (worth it), French dinner, exhaustion, a night sky that took my breath away, sleep at last

April 8th: Fogo, Down to Sao Filipe

volcano at dawn, goodbye Mars, early truck ride, beans and beans and beans, hot showers, streets of Sao Filipe, goodbye Josh, black sand beach, view of Brava, coffee breaks, naps, American dinner, beautiful music, girls' night out...but no nightlife to be found

April 9th: Fogo to Praia

birthday, propeller plane, Praia, Chinese food (can't stay away), wandering the streets, strawberries, toast to 26, Italian dinner indulgence, toast to 26, The Serpent's Venom, toast to 26, Erica, Krista, happy birthday sung in Portuguese, toast to 26, passing midnight, off to the Cockpit (yes...that's the name of a club), immediate stage appearance, (toast to 26?), dance...dance...dance..., and then dance some more, home at 5, too many toasts to 26

(no photos necessary...or appropriate)

April 10th: Day Trip to Tarrafal

...somehow up at 8 am, finding transport, incredible views, winding roads, cliffs that seem right there, glued to the windows, Tarrafal, deep blue water, Toby, tuna pasta, French tourists, laughter, stories, beach, Senegalese souvenirs, shell cave, breathing rock, thorny shoes, a place I could sit all day, cliff jumpers, return to Praia, fighting sleep, John, pizza, collapse

April 11th: Praia to the island of Sao Nicolau

goodbye ladies, more propeller planes (getting better at this), nap in Sal airport, Sao Nicolau, Steve!, up to Cachaco, Steve's house, elevation, neighbor greetings, Pirate, rooftop views, dinner with Joe, birthday brownies, happiness

(photos don't do this day justice)

April 12th: Sao Nicolau, in and around Cachaco

morning run, down to Faja, lunch with friends, wandering the countryside, scenery that puts Pout to shame, cobblestone pathways, sugar cane, distillery amongt the hills, grog, taste tests, laughter, photo ops, see you laters, Cachaco, learning Kriolu, Uno, more grog, neighbors, beautiful night

April 13th: Sao Nicalao, Monte Gordo

sunshine, Steve's park, rocky hills, corn pounding photo shoot, coworkers, Monte Gordo, reaching the top, taking in the view of the entire island, (and taking it in some more), murals, photos, hiking, flora and fauna, dragon blood tree, Catholic church, kestrels, neighbor visits, friendly faces, baby butts, good sleep

April 14th: Cachaco to Tarrafal

down to the coast, CAFE class, Professor Steve, fish and turtles, beautiful students, to the docks, Tarrafal harbor, fishermen interviews, measuring fins, weighing fish, end of class, Nelson, beach, sunshine, Bocce ball, date night, perfect sky

April 15th: Camping at Baixo de Rocha Beach

morning CAFE class, students,laughter, fish, donuts, packing up, hike to the beach, set up camp, bare feet, ocean, sunshine, snorkeling, (working on the tan?), football, dunes, sunset, no need for flashlights because we've got the moon

April 16th: Back to Tarrafal, Night Out

morning at the beach, ocean, sunshine, snorkeling, sea urchins, rock jumping (...still pretending to work on the tan), music, sand...more sand, packing up, hiking to Tarrafal, Man Island reunion, fish dinner, Strela, music videos, fashion show, grog shots, club, music, zook!, dancing, lots and lots of dancing, sleep at last

April 17th: Tarrafal to Cachaco

Cachupa breakfast, goodbye to the fellas, back up the mountains, Cachaco, coffee breaks, packing up, Palm Sunday mass, adorable children, barbecue, friends, neighbors, music, photo ops, views of the valley, last night (is this really the last night?)

April 18th & 19th: Sao Nicolau to Praia, Praia to Dakar

goodbye Cachaco, down to Ribiera Brava, stolen phone (Steve saves the day), airport, dreading this..., goodbyes (I hate them), leaving (I hate this), Sal, Praia, sidewalk cafe, wasting time, Jon, Chinese food (third time's a charm), early flight to Dakar,...back to reality.

I think I was too distracted to take pictures on those last days. It was definitely tough returning to Senegal after such a wonderful two weeks; life certainly hit me in the face when I landed, but I reverted back to normal rather quickly. I spent a few days in Dakar before heading to site in order to catch up with friends and ease back into reality. I had a great reunion with Alyssa, Tamar, and Katherine and we acted like we hadn't seen each other in months. On Thursday it was back to Pout and the transition out of vacation mode. My family welcomed me home with open arms...and home really is what it's become. After a great escape it's good to be back.

Urban gardening a la Peace Corps has made its debut in Pout! Since the training actually happened several weeks ago, this post is a bit belated (I’ll do my best to remember things correctly).

After being delayed for a week due to the schedule of the attendees, the first ever Pout urban gardening training finally started on Monday, March 28th. Emily and Clare headed out to Pout early that morning and we spent a large chunk of the day consolidating our materials at the Mayor’s office and clearing piles of dirt to be used for planting. We had wanted to start promptly at 4, but...this is Senegal so women started trickling in around 4:30 and by 5 we were ready to go. I was pleasantly surprised to see we had more than the original 20 invitees, 2 of which were male, not to mention at least a dozen young kids hovering around the courtyard, curious as to what we were up to. We started off with introductions and an ice breaker (telling everyone what your favorite Senegalese meal is…always a crowd pleaser). Emily led a group discussion about the goals of the training and the attendees’ expectations. I was surprised at the range in experience with urban gardening; it seemed like a few of the women had already attended trainings and knew their stuff while others had no experience whatsoever.

We spent the majority of the first day talking about how to make healthy soil and how to prepare various containers for use. The women were able to make their own compost pile together, and then check out the one I made to see what the end product should look like. We ended the first day by cutting various water bottles, oil drums, and tires to be used for the actual gardening. The women seemed invigorated by the first day's activities, and we told them to come back the next day prepared to get dirty.

preparing a square meter plot for a compost pile

the finished product!

cutting the top of a tire to prepare it for gardening

Day 2 started almost on time, and while there were a few less people in attendance, the ones who were really interested were there and ready to work. We started the second day’s activities by preparing enough soil to be used in all of our containers. Emily and Clare showed the women how to prep regular soil when compost isn’t available by sifting out rocks and debris, and mixing the soil with plenty of manure (…I did not smell good that night).

Then we were able to actually fill the containers with the fresh, new soil and begin discussing planting techniques. Emily demonstrated how to direct plant various seeds and also how to start a pepineer, or vegetable nursery. She was also able to bring some lettuce seedlings in from Thies to demonstrate out planting techniques once the plant is too big for the nursery. The women all seemed to really enjoy getting their hands in the dirt and learning how to cultivate various vegetables (and they even came dressed like they could potentially get dirty which was very impressive).

Emily explaining how to make a vegetable nursery

seeding and watering

The third and final day was a bit less intense than the first two, but the women who showed up were very intent on finishing strong. The afternoon started with a round-table discussion about proper container garden management once the women return home and do it on their own. Emily demonstrated how to make natural pesticides using cheap ingredients like tobacco, soap, hot pepper, and garlic and mixing them with water. The women posed loads of questions about how and when to water, how to know when to out-plant, and what to do if things aren't growing. We also made mint propagation containers by cutting holes in empty water bottles and fixing the mint cuttings in place with pieces of sponge (basically all mint needs to keep growing is water until it's big enough to replant, so this way you can grow several cuttings using one old water bottle). Cool, huh?

spectators and their new hats

We ended the day by indulging in soda and delicious beignets made by one of the women. I had certificates printed in Thies for all those in attendance so we had a small ceremony to congratulate the women on completion of the training. I could tell they were all proud of themselves and based on their interest throughout the training, it is my hope that they will continue the gardening techniques in their own homes. Most of the women were very adamant on bringing the containers home with them and several paid local horse cart drivers to load up their tires and take them away. In the end, I'm extremely grateful that everything somehow managed to come together and the training came to fruition. Gardening may not be my main work focus, and it's certainly not my forte, but I'm glad I could bring a dose of it to Pout. Now I've got the itch to start gardening...I might not end up doing it here, but watch out future apartment in America!

I've put the rest of the pictures up in an album on Picasa.

Jamm ak jamm!

My brother Moussa is in a love triangle...again. If there's one thing you can count on across cultures, it's the drama that unfolds when dealing with teenage or twenty something puppy love.

He came into my room this morning and asked to talk. I of course said yes since we always do, and I immediately assumed this was about girls because he had a sheepish look on his face. He said he needed some advice about his relationships. My automatic reaction was "relationships?...as in...more than one?"

Moussa has two girlfriends, and according to him, he loves them both. Now, I consider Moussa an intelligent guy. He's 22, in college, super sharp, and we manage to carry on good conversations. But his smarts in the girl department are....well, lacking. He explained that his two girlfriends, Aida and Fatou Binta, are both great, and he doesn't know what to do. They also don't know about each other, and according to Moussa, would be extremely upset if they found out about one another. Also, they're from the same town and their families know one another, which makes this even more dramatic.

So, obviously my first piece of advice was to choose one. There's no way of getting around that. He asked me how he is possibly going to choose and I tried to think about what I would do in that situation (although, Lord knows, I'd never be in it). I would think about who understands me the most, who I have the best conversations with, who I could see a future with, who I trust completely. His first thought was "which one was prettier" (sigh).

He then got a little defensive and said that he's not sure he trusts either of them completely; "how do I know they are not with other guys?" I about smacked him upside the head because obviously he's not thinking of this from their point of view. I told him that the reality is, these girls probably trust him completely and out of respect for them, he needs to do some soul searching and let one of them go. After that didn't quite resonate, I just told him to be a 22 year old for Pete's sake and that life is short and there is no need for all this drama. I told him to imagine one of the rap videos he's always watching and asked him what happens when the guy is cheating. His response: "It's never good..."

I really wish I could film some of my conversations with him because it would make the foundation for a great Senegalese soap opera. As for now, I'm not quite sure what he's going to do. He seemed to be leaning towards Fatou Binta at the end of our conversation because she goes to his University, whereas Aida doesn't and he therefore hardly sees her. But that Aida is "so very beautiful." Ah, young love...

I'll keep you posted on what happens as the drama unfolds.

When yesterday morning rolled around, I was still doubting that this Junior Achievement television extravaganza was actually going to happen. For several weeks Alyssa, Kerry, and I have been hearing of Talla's mysterious plan to bring a TV crew out to our sites. His objective of showing off Junior Achievement and the work we've done to the rest of Senegal seemed good in theory; it's a great program, and the more people who know about it, the better. We let him chat about it and nodded politely, assuming that no such thing would occur (and also kind of hoping that no such thing would occur to avoid embarrassing ourselves in national television).

Not only did this actually happen...it went...(do I dare say?) smoothly. I called Alyssa yesterday morning to see if she had heard anything, and the Peace Corps car had already picked her and Kerry up and was headed for my house. After loading me and all of the certificates for the students into the car, we headed to the elementary school where three men from the national television station and their cameras where already waiting (twilight zone!). After talking quickly about logistics, we headed back to the classrooms, where all 100 of my students were crammed into one classroom, waiting for our arrival.

It turned out to be a wonderful morning. We handed out all of the certificates to each student one by one in front of a TV crew, various JA representatives from Dakar, and the director of the school. I'm hoping the importance of the classes and how proud they should be of themselves really resounded with the students. I was certainly proud and almost teared up a few times because I cry at everything.

After the certificate presentation, the TV crew interviewed the director of the school, two students from each class, and then (the moment I had been dreading) me. It's not that I was nervous or anything about the interview, I just felt awkward because it's hard for me to talk about myself and have the work I've done be publicized for all to see. The interview went well, except for the part where the journalist switched gears and made me respond in Wolof. That was definitely embarrassing as my Wolof skills are quite rusty. Afterwards, I did a short review of all of the lessons with the students so the representatives from JA Dakar and the TV crew could get an idea of what we've talked about during the classes.

The TV crew interviewing one of my students - he was so nervous!

Doing a quick review of what we've talked about during the classes

My awkward interview

After some group shots outside, I gave my students some last words of encouragement and said how proud I was to have worked with them. I also warned them if they ever see me on the street, they are not allowed to call me "toubab" (the Wolof word for white person). They just giggled.

The director of the school and some proud students

All of us!

After saying all my goodbyes, I headed home, but poor Alyssa had to soldier on and basically repeat everything that had just happened for her own Junior Achievement class in Thies. From what I understand, it was a long day for her, but it all went well. Overall, as much as I was dreading it, yesterday turned out to be a great day and I'm truly happy my students and the JA program will be showcased on TV. We have no idea when the segment will air, but my Senegalese family told me they'll be telling the whole neighborhood as soon as it does.

Thanks to Alyssa for all the amazing pictures! I've put up all of her pictures from yesterday, as well as Kerry's pictures from when he attended one of my classes a few weeks ago. Check them out in the album "Junior Achievement" on Picasa.

Can you spot the Toubab?

After I returned from Dakar last week, I forced myself out of my goodbye-induced mopey coma by getting right back into work. I cannot possibly imagine how happy I will be once I'm back in the States and have a big kid's job again that requires me to be busy during the entire day. I am positive after living in Senegal so long and succumbing to the Senegalese "work ethic" that I am just not programmed to have too much downtime. I get incredibly bored and antsy, so this past week has been a blessing.

I spent the end of last week and the weekend in crazy gardening mode. I finished my grant proposal (after multiple revised versions) and sent it off to Dakar to be formally submitted. On Saturday, I headed to Thies were I spent the entire day working with Emily and Clare on preparing our three day gardening training which was supposed to have been this week (more on that in a minute). Emily and I went to several seed stores to stock up on supplies, bought a bunch of empty containers to use for container gardening, and schlepped all of the supplies to the Peace Corps training center. After a quick lunch, we all headed to their gardening office to finalize all of the logistics for the training. Their garden looks amazing - complete with flowering plants, crops growing in tires, on tables, in baskets, and in beds; it makes me want to have a garden when I'm back in the States (once I finally learn a thing or two about it).

So back to Pout I went, happy and ready to begin our training. But alas, this is Senegal; why would something we plan actually happen when we want it to? That's just silly! The plan was for Emily and Clare plus all of our supplies to hitch a ride into Pout Monday morning with my boss Talla who was coming here for a meeting, and then stay until the training started in the afternoon. However, I received a call from my supervisor on Monday morning who told me that all the women we had invited to the training were "too busy" to make it. These women all work in the fields, and apparently they were overwhelmed by the tomato crop this week and didn't think they could fit the training in. After being a bit aggravated for a few minutes and babbling about how they've known about this training for almost a month, I realized there was nothing I could do to change the situation. I think one of the most important things I'll bring back to the States is ability to be flexible and take things in stride. My supervisor and I agreed to push back the training until next week. Luckily Emily and Clare are available then, otherwise it could have been a disaster. They both ended up coming to Pout on Monday anyways in order to get all of our gardening stuff to my house.

Meanwhile, Talla and I headed to the school where I teach Junior Achivement classes to have a meeting with the director. A while back, Talla had mentioned that the women who runs the JA office in Dakar was planning on bringing a Senegalese television crew out to Pout and Thies to film me, Alyssa, and our respective students. Again, because this is Senegal, I assumed this was never going to happen. But, when Talla showed up to the meeting on Monday, he told the director the crew would be here the next day. I was still skeptical until Tuesday morning...but it actually happened!

More on that in the next post...

The newest members of the Peace Corps Senegal family are officially in country. 54 new Health and Environmental Education volunteers arrived in Thies this past Wednesday to begin their two months of pre-service training (PST). I was asked several weeks ago to take on many of the responsibilities I had during the last group's PST, including being a "cultural liason" and helping out with various trainings, presentations, etc. However, as the arrival of the new trainees grew nearer, I realized that unlike the last time around, I actually have work to do in Pout. It became apparent that it wasn't all that necessary for me to be as involved as previously planned. Plus, since these volunteers are not in the same program as I am and will have permanent sites far from where I live, I feel less inclined to take time away from my work in Pout.

I did head into Thies on Friday to help out with a cross cultural fair and was able to meet and chat with all of the newbies. Turns out 10-12 of them will be moving to Pout and will be living with home stay families here for the next 2 months. It seems like the Health/EE trainees from the previous group who lived in Pout were just here...but that was almost a year ago. It's crazy how time can fly by. With the arrival of this new training group, my group who arrived in August '09 is officially the "senior class." The next class to arrive will be our replacements and then I'll be headed back to America. Crazy.

This morning I had what one could call a different type of new beginning. I had a long heart to heart with my counterpart at the mayor's office, and it put in perspective his role in my life as a volunteer. My counterpart and I have had what I would call a rocky friendship. At the beginning of my service, I relied heavily on him to show me around Pout, introduce me to all the necessary people, and he was truly a priceless resource during those first few months. We continued to work together to set up trainings, make the necessary contacts, and the like. But over time, I became more habituated to doing things completely on my own and worrying less about running things by him. I suppose in my mind, this was the obvious next step in the journey of a volunteer; being able to start projects and work on my own seemed beneficial to me and beneficial to him, since he, too, had other jobs to do.

However, my lack of communication with him started to take its toll on our friendship. I would see him in the street on my way to various projects and I would make some excuse about why I hadn't called him to discuss what I was doing. In reality, I hadn't even thought about calling him because I figured he was busy doing other things...and wouldn't he want me to be independent? He would then make me feel extremely guilty about it, berating me for not including him on everything I was doing. "You've forgotten me", he would tell me. This in turn would make me feel awful; I'd invite him to the next class or next project I was doing, and when he wouldn't show, I would just forget about it. The next time I would see him, the same conversation would take place and we'd both be upset all over again. This went on for months.

This morning I happened to run into him at the mayor's office while I was watering my compost. He asked me what I was doing and when I mentioned the compost he became visibly upset that he knew nothing about it or the upcoming gardening training next week. I realized as we were speaking that I had not even thought to tell him about it, not out of spite, but simply because my supervisor in the Mayor's office and I had everything already covered. He finally broached the subject that we had both been awkwardly avoiding; "I thought I was your counterpart. I made a promise to you when you were in training that I would help you and be here for you until the very end. Why haven't you just explained to me that you don't need my help?"

He went on to explain that in Senegalese culture, when someone says they will be with you as counterpart, and more importantly, as a friend, they mean it. They are faithful to you, and they don't take the responsibility for granted (at least most of the time). I hadn't thought about it that way until this morning. I realized that this entire time, he was more hurt that I wasn't cultivating the bond we had shared and respecting him as a friend, and far less concerned about actually attending the classes and events I was responsible for. It also made me realize that Americans are far less inclined to view relationships like this. We tend to let friendships fall by the wayside far more frequently. That's not to say that when he have very close friends we don't put effort into those friendships. But, we become used to losing touch with people and letting friendships dissolve because we simply don't have time to cultivate them in our busy lives. I wouldn't label this kind of behavior as good or bad because our reasons for doing so vary so much from person to person; it's just the way Americans are. And that way is very different from the Senegalese way, which is something I frequently forget when I'm so wrapped up in my own life.

I attempted to explain this cultural difference to my counterpart as best I could, and I think he understood. He told me all that he had wanted was for me to be honest with him. If I had explained that I want and need to do things on my own in order to be a more confident and effective volunteer then he would have understood long ago. I guess that's one of the many instances where I have been ignorant of how something that I assume to be trivial and unimportant is taken much more personally by a Senegalese person. We ended the conversation on a good note; he'll be attending the gardening training next week as a spectator, and we both promised to be more understanding in the future. After all, I have only a few months left here and I would hate to leave without restrengthening our friendship.

As for goodbyes, this week will be full of them. I'm headed to Dakar tomorrow to say au revoir to my boss, Nicole. She is the head of the business program that I am in, but due to various medical issues, she is leaving Peace Corps. It's a major bummer, not only because she's been a great boss, but also because that means we'll be spending the rest of our service without a program director. On Wednesday, my friends and I will be saying goodbye to several third year volunteers who have been here since we arrived and who we've grown very close to. That will be certainly be a tear jerker, but I'm trying to stay positive and remember that I'll see them again Stateside at some point in the future.

Hoping all is well in your world. Jamm ak Jamm.

This March is the worldwide inaugural "Peace Corps month" and marks the 50th anniversary of President John F. Kennedy signing the executive order to create the Peace Corps. Almost exactly 50 years ago a group of 51 Americans were sent to Ghana to serve as teachers and became the first ever Peace Corps volunteers. It's hard to believe that since then over 200,000 volunteers have served in 139 different countries around the world. I am very proud to be a part of those ranks!

If you'd like to know more, check out Peace Corps's anniversary website: http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=about.fiftieth

In completely unrelated news, this past weekend marked the countrywide inaugural "Murder Bus" party. Long story short, the Dakar region had been planning on throwing a "murder mystery" party for quite some time because...well, why not? After the invitee list grew and we realized that purchasing a run of the mill murder mystery game online wasn't going to cut it, Katherine decided that she would take one for the team and write the murder mystery from scratch.

Location: the Murrrrrrrder Bus, aka an imaginary broken down Senegalese busReal location: a lovely beach house in PopenguineThe Scene: An innocent driver's apprentice has been murdered and many people could be to blame. Who is the real killer? (insert dramatic music)

Over 30 of us arrived in Popenguine on Saturday for a day of lounging around the beach and the murrrderrrr took place that night. Everyone dressed in costumes and hilarity ensued. Katherine had spent many hours carefully crafting clues in order to make the whodunit scenario actually pan out. Everyone wandered around accusing various people and trying to figure out where they had been when the events had unfolded. My character was a floozy high school student who was having an affair with her French professor (if that seems inappropriate it's because it is). I put on pink pants and my little sister's actual school vest for the occasion. I won't even begin to describe the antics of the murder or the after party that followed, but as luck would have it, I didn't kill anyone! The French professor who I was having an affair with however did turn out to be the murderer. Unfortunate. I spent the rest of the night running around yelling "our love will never die!"

Back in Pout now and back to work. Pictures are up.

Jamm ak jamm

This morning I headed to the Mayor's office to meet with my supervisor and finalize details about our upcoming urban gardening training (...only after going for a run which was totally embarrassing after two weeks of being out of practice). The meeting went well and my supervisor seemed genuinely excited about the 3 day training which will take place during the 3rd week of March. Lucky for me, he knows I am light years away from a green thumb, so he expects two of my fellow volunteers - Emily and Clare - who are actually trained in urban agriculture to do most of the talking. I'm happy to be official photographer and learn a thing or two to boot.

After the meeting, I headed to my former Wolof tutor Yacinne's house, who has successfully taken the top spot on my list of all time favorite Senegalese people. Way back when I first moved into Pout, my counterpart introduced us and even though she has no teaching experience, I solicited her help as a Wolof tutor. I spent the first 5 months of my time in Pout meeting with her two or three times a week for "classes," which over time became more like random girl talk and less about grammar and vocabulary. Somewhere along the line I think I realized that I'll never be the fluent Wolof speaker everyone wants me to be, and I was okay with that. I ended the classes with Yacinne, partially because the Peace Corps stipend for tutors runs out after several months, and partially because I'd reached whatever imaginary level of Wolof I'd set for myself. Lucky for me, Yacinne and I have remained close.

Today I expected to hang around her house for a bit and be on my merry way, but as is usually the case I ended up staying for lunch and most of the afternoon. In most situations like this I spend my time checking my phone and wondering when I can make an excuse to leave (I mean, after all, how many times can you talk about the weather and goats before you want to rip your hair out). With Yacinne however, conversation comes easy, which is - frankly - hard to accomplish with most Senegalese people. Aside from the fact that she has one of the cutest 3 year olds on the face of the planet who enjoys falling asleep in my lap, I generally feel at ease around her and don't worry about looming responsibilities.

Most of our conversations revolve around random cultural questions that I pose to her and her inability to stop laughing at how bad my Wolof is. The thing is though, I can ask her almost anything and know she won't be offended; it's the type of relationship which, almost as a rule, is hard to come by here in Senegal. Today we chatted about sex before marriage, birth control and how society is changing its views of it, circumcision, and the Mississippi river amongst other things. Yacinne is 38 years old, has 3 kids, never finished high school, and still retains the curiosity and thirst for life of a starry eyed child. She often sneaks away from her duties around the house to go to our local library (and ignores library fines with reckless abandon I've noticed). When I gave her a book of French poetry last year as a birthday present she just about had a panic attack and still will let no one else lay a finger on it. I just find it fascinating that the sometimes stifling, rigid ways of Senegalese culture and the place a woman takes within it seem not to bother her. She is still a traditional Senegalese woman and will likely never leave the confines of Pout, but I like to think that we are kindred spirits in our desire to know and understand the world.

Days like today leave me with a dull ache in my heart. It's exciting and terrifying to know that my service in Senegal will come to an end in a mere 5 months, and I'll be leaving people like Yacinne behind. It's painful to know that you truly might never see a dear friend again. I suppose that's all the more reason for me to plan on fitting in a visit back to this crazy place at some point in my adult life. Won't that be a trip.

Oh…where to even begin. Our second (and sadly, final) WAIST weekend was - in a word - epic. Hosted by the American Embassy in Dakar, the West African Invitational Softball Tournament is known to many “serious” teams like the Embassy team and various Senegalese teams as a competitive weekend of softball. To Peace Corps volunteers it’s more of a dress-up-in-silly-costumes-and-hardly-get-any-sleep kind of weekend (read: zero percent chance we actually take it seriously). Although it was very bittersweet to say goodbye to many people that I will probably never see again and know that we won’t be returning to the softball fields next year, the weekend was extraordinary.

On Friday I still wasn’t 100% recovered from my weird esophagus ailment, but I said au revoir to my room at the Med Hut and spent all day at the Peace Corps office in Dakar for a PC Senegal All Volunteer conference. I manned the Dakar region booth with Katherine and we chatted with representatives from various NGOs about our regional initiatives and the type of work Dakar region volunteers do. Later that afternoon, Alyssa, Erin, Tamar and I headed to downtown Dakar to buy place tickets: Cape Verde here we come! After much discussion and input from other volunteers, we nixed a trip to Sierra Leone and decided on a vacation to Cape Verde the first week of April instead. I’m incredibly excited, especially since I spent a summer in college working for the Cape Verdean embassy in D.C. so I feel like this trip will actually mean something to me. And in case you’ve never heard of Cape Verde, which is entirely ok: Cape Verde is an archipelago of islands of the west coast of Africa. As a former Portuguese colony, it boasts an eclectic mix of Portuguese and African cultures, as well as beautiful scenery and a volcano which we plan on climbing! Check it out if you’re interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Verde After our trip to the Cape Verde airline office and a delicious home cooked meal, the ladies and I headed to the Peace Corps Open Mic night. More importantly, this night served as the perfect time for the unveiling of our “Thiest Region” t-shirts. I feel like a little background info is necessary for you to understand the wonder that is the Thiest Region t-shirt. Many, many months ago, after myself, Alyssa, and Katherine first installed at our permanent sites, we were – unbeknownst to us - given the nickname “Thiest” girls. Thies - pronounced "chess" like the game - is the town where Alyssa lives and is right down the road from my and Katherine’s sites. The three of us are all short, brunette, tend to be confused with one another, and…well, let’s just say we’re all well endowed. Add a “t” to the end of “chess” and you get the picture.

I suppose this is far more entertaining to me than it is to anyone reading this, but I think our shirts we’re appreciated by the Peace Corps community. Many thanks to Alyssa for having them made in the States and schlepping them back to us. One talent show and many Thiest region pictures later, everyone headed to the bars and clubs downtown for a night of merriment. The next morning we were up bright and early to start the actual softball tournament. For Peace Corps volunteers, this means finally revealing your team costumes. In true Dakar region fashion, we went all out and embodied our theme of "Bavaria" with matching wax fabric lederhosen and hilarious hats - plus a plastic beer stein that I brought back from Milwaukee. Thanks, Ellen! You have officially donated a crucial part of my costume every WAIST.

Huge shout out to Katherine who convinced her tailor to make over twenty pairs of matching lederhosen (and to Matar the tailor, who may or may not think we're crazy). Our first game against the combined Tamba/Kedougou team was a riot. Their theme of "Cops and Robbers" was made ever more evident by guys wearing cop outfits fit for 15 year old girls and various robbers stealing bases (literally) off the field. Our second game against Mali was slightly less fun because they actually took it seriously and we spent the entire time making them play leap frog from first to second base...obviously. That afternoon was spent lounging pool side and heading home relatively early. Katherine and I are lame and spent a romantic evening in together while Alyssa and Tamar headed to a party at the Marine's house.

Day 2 of the tournament had us up super early for a morning game against the Cape Verde/Niger team. We promptly lost...but more importantly, were able to take various "mountain yodeling" pictures on an abandoned stair case in the outfield. I think we had our priorities straight. Our second game against Kaolack was more of a free for all than a softball game, but everyone definitely had a good time and leap frog made a triumphant come back. Katherine and I braved the pool after our games which was ridiculously cold and we eventually made out way back home. We invited Joe & Steve - two new friends from Cape Verde - over for a pasta dinner before indulging in various duty free beverages and heading out for club Oceanium for an all night party. Poor Alyssa became super sick immediately upon arrival and went home early, but the rest of us danced til we could dance no more.

The final day of WAIST 2.0 was spent mostly lounging around recovering until the final pool/bbq party at the American Club. I was expecting to call it an early night, but ended up having a wonderful time and staying up way too late - so unbelievably worth it! Plus, it's probably the last time I'll be able to hang out with lots of PCVs who are leaving the country soon, thus making that last night somewhat bittersweet. The next morning we said our goodbyes and I headed back to Pout while the rest of the ladies went to Thies for an artisan training. For now it's right back to work in Pout, teaching Junior Achievement classes, preparing for an urban agriculture gardening in a few weeks, and getting ready to head to Thies to greet the new Health/EE trainees who arrive on March 9th. I can't believe next week is March already! The return to Pout was a brutal reminder that the cold season is officially over as it's nearly impossible to breathe at the moment thanks to dry, hot wind. But - alas, that means I'm one season closer to the end of my service. Better keep on truckin'.Pictures are up. Cheers!

I was really gunning for a full two years of service without ever needing to stay at the Peace Corps medical center in Dakar...but I didn't quite make it. A year and a half though! That's not too shabby.

Last Sunday after the Super Bowl, I woke up up with a terrible burning in my chest and didn't quite know what was going on. I quickly realized that I was an idiot and had taken my anti-malaria pill right before going to bed (exactly like they tell us not to do) and had crazy heartburn. I assumed it was just temporary and although I felt terrible the following morning, went home to Pout and essentially shrugged it off. Instead of going away, the pain became worse and worse each day last week and eventually eating solid foods became impossible and even drinking water made me almost burst into tears. I called our medical office and they told me to take some over the counter medications to soothe whatever was going on in my esophagus, but it didn't help much. The doctor eventually told me that I needed to come to Dakar, and that's where I am now.

Apparently, you don't want to mess around with taking anti-malaria pills incorrectly because they can literally burn the lining of your esophagus, which is what they think happened to me. I'm feeling much better now compared to how I felt last week, but they're going to keep me in the "med hut" for the remainder of this week to make sure I actually heal. I can't exactly complain considering the "med hut" - while conjuring up images of a tiny thatched roof hut with a big red cross on it - is actually an entire wing of our Peace Corps office and is complete with uber comfortable beds, wifi, and hot showers. I can't complain. Although I am incredibly bored. (time to do my taxes! Yaay!)

I'm actually bummed I'm not back in Pout right now because I've been working really hard the last couple weeks to organize a huge one day gender and development summit at the Thies Training Center with Katherine. We are in charge of logistics, and while it has been a nightmare to organize, I was excited to actually see the work pay off. I would also be missing several Junior Achievement classes this week, but lucky for me, one of the biggest Muslim holidays of the year is going on and classes are basically on hiatus. My supervisor even volunteered to water my compost pile every day while I'm gone.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to this weekend which is the much anticipated WAIST - West African Invitational Softball Tournament here in Dakar, i.e. a crazy four day weekend of softball games, parties, and general merriment. Our Dakar team is going to be awesome. Hopefully I'll be well enough by then to join in all of the festivities!

First and foremost...

GREEN BAY PACKERS ARE SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS! (Marry me Aaron Rodgers!)

Before I watched the Packers play an incredible game, I was heading to Dakar on Saturday morning. It was smooth sailing all the way into Dakar so I shockingly made it to our softball game on time. We played well but were no match for a team of 10 and 11 year old titans who speedily and skillfully kicked our butts. I think I'd normally find this incredibly embarrassing, but with WAIST only 2 weeks away, the games are really just for fun at this point. We headed to the American Club afterwards to grab lunch and relax. That night the girls and I went out for Korean barbecue which was delicious and only made better by the atrociously tacky wallpaper lining our private dining room.

The next day we headed downtown to grab lunch at a place with wifi and waste away most of the afternoon (I was mostly day dreaming about a Super Bowl win). After making a delicious Mexican vegetable feast for a late dinner and making a veggie tray for the game, we headed over to the Marine's house. We assumed that we would awkwardly be the only people bringing any sort of snack, but it turned out to be a bumpin' party with tons of people and food. The Marines had a huge projection screen set up in order to watch the game and it felt just like being in America. Admittedly, I had a great time chatting with Steelers fans and running around the room like a crazy person whenever we scored. What a game. It was absolutely incredible to actually be able to cheer on my team from all the way over here. I only wish I could have been sitting next to my Dad to watch our team win - but seeing it live still made my weekend.

After struggling to get out of bed after only a few hours of sleep yesterday, the girls and I went out for an early lunch and then Alyssa, Emily, and I caught a car back to Thies. I felt totally worthless and out of it most of the day today, but I did manage to have a lot of fun teaching my Junior Achievement class this afternoon. Today we talked about unit vs. chain production and the students split up into teams to make fake beignets out of paper in order to show which production method was better. It was really cute to watch them get super competitive.

That's all for now. Sending happy thoughts back home to Wisconsin and the green and gold!

Life has been moving along fairly quickly here in Pout. I spent a couple of weeks getting my Senegalese groove back, which mostly meant saying hello to everybody in the neighborhood and explaining why I didn't have an American present for every single one of them. Now I feel like I'm actually back in the swing of things, and I've had things to do almost every morning and afternoon which is a feat in and of itself.

A couple weeks ago my supervisor brought up a gardening training that we had discussed way back in the day. I felt guilty for letting his idea fall to the wayside, but in my defense, I'm not an agriculture volunteer and we kept busy with other things. Now it seems like the perfect time to tackle such an idea because I don't have a lot of other things going on. That, and the typical pot of Peace Corps grant money that funds small projects (not so) conveniently includes no earmarks for business trainings or business education this fiscal year (or really anything remotely related to the sector I'm in). It's a bummer, but it's given me the opportunity to be open towards other projects...like gardening.

After chit-chatting with my supervisor about it, I invited my friend Emily - the urban agriculture volunteer in Thies - out to Pout to visit and talk about the training. After all, a gardening training led solely by me would be a giant disaster. We decided that the training should be geared towards a group of around 20 men and women who want to learn how to create and use container gardens in their homes. Our collective goal is to show how easy it is to become a "container gardener" and in turn realize the health and financial benefits of growing one's own vegetables. Before Emily's trip to Pout, she explained that we would need to start a compost pile several weeks before the training and that I should figure out where all of our materials are. I spent several hours scoping out a "poop source" i.e. someone who owns sheep or cattle and has a large amount of manure on their property and eventually found a family who owns a herd of sheep. I also bought a shovel and a rake much to the amusement of my family who thinks I'm secretly farming in the mornings.

Emily trekked out to Pout last Friday to meet my supervisor and start our compost pile. Unfortunately, we totally underestimated the amount of time it would take to actually round up all of our materials and drag them all to the mayor's office. Emily and I had to stop early because we were both headed to Thies for lunch, but Clare - the other urban agriculture volunteer in Thies - was able to come out this past Tuesday to finish up. The day before Clare arrived I wandered all over Pout trying to find dead leaves, which proved extremely difficult because the trees all lost their leaves several months ago. I also had to buy another bag of manure and strip Neem leaves all over again because someone mysteriously stole the supply that Emily and I spent several hours procuring. Jerk.

Regardless, Clare and I were able to successfully complete the compost pile, which basically entails layering each ingredient (poop, dirt, green leaves, and dead leaves) one on top of the other until the pile is about a meter in length, width and height. Top it all off with a healthy dose of water and voila, the makings of a compost pile. I need to water the compost every day and flip it after 2 weeks and it should turn out to be a great additive to use during the training. I'm currently working on a small grant in order to get some cash to cover the costs and the training will, Insh'allah, take place the first week of March.

I also started Junior Achievement classes at the second elementary school in Pout. I've got two classes of 5th graders with nearly 50 students each which certainly makes for a rowdy bunch. So far, so good though. The first classes went really well and the students seem legitimately excited to be there. Let's hope that continues!

Tomorrow I'm off to Dakar to spend some time with friends and to gear up for to watch the PACKERS IN THE SUPER BOWL! The Marines who are stationed in Dakar have generously offered some of my friends and me a spot on their living room floor...in front of a giant TV...with American cable. Heaven. I'm so incredibly excited that I'll be able to actually watch the game.

Sending positive energy to Texas! GO PACK!

This obviously has nothing to do with Senegal, but it isn't every day that I get to write that THE PACKERS ARE THE NFC CHAMPIONS! I was able to watch the play by play via ESPN gamecast online and attempted to listen to internet radio to follow the game (which was shaky at best). Even though it was nothing like watching it on TV and being able to revel in the excitement with fellow Packers fans, I screamed like an idiot several times and I'm sure my Senegalese family thinks I'm absolutely nuts. A special thanks to Dad who I called several times to get updates and who was trying to actually watch the game while I was yelling into the phone. It's your fault for making me such a die hard fan :)

Thank God for third year volunteers in Dakar and their illegal cable. I'll hopefully be watching the Superbowl live!

Go Pack!

Last week when my friends and I were in our rented sept-place en route to Lac Rose we had a bit of a miscommunication with our driver. Since he knew where most of the campements were clustered, he took us to the main tourist-y side of the lake. Upon arrival, we saw no signs for our campements, so we called the campement owner (something we should have just done in the first place). After realizing we were, in fact, on the opposite side of the lake from the campement, we attempted to explain this to the driver who immediately refused to take us there. He wanted double the price we were originally going to pay him (mind you, to drive about 10-15 extra minutes). He pointed to a group of cars that other hotels use and said we could just rent them, but we quickly found out these would cost over twice what we had already paid.

I completely lost it and started yelling at the driver from the back seat. It boggles my mind that a driver who we were paying a very decent amount of money to (in a car that we had completely rented out) would not agree to actually take us to our final destination without an argument. Yes, we had not known where the hotel was located and yes, we should have called ahead. But, is driving around to the other side of the lake really the end of the world? Was that driver doing anything else even remotely important in those next 15 minutes? I would put money on no. I was so angry that Emily had to calmly tell me to shut my mouth and that I was only making matters worse (which I totally was). We eventually gave him an additional 50% of what we were paying and I just swore at the driver in English and pouted in the back seat like a 6 year old.

This situation was not a big deal. The reason I bring it up is because of how ridiculously angry I get at situations that are not big deals. When did I become this angry person? When did I lose any and all sense of patience in dealing with people like this? I was never a bitter or confrontational person in the States. Ask any of my friends. If anything I would flee at the very thought or sight of a conflict and was terrified to really speak my mind, even to people that I was close to and even when something really bothered me. Passive aggressiveness at it's best. (I'm not saying this was healthy either) But here in Senegal, I find this strange, previously unknown anger bubbling up inside of me whenever people are acting completely irrational or rude. I've yelled extremely loud and obnoxiously at people on public transportation, I've slapped people who are trying to grab me or bully me, even on the streets of Pout. And don't even get me started about the Thies garage. I'm surprised that I don't have a life time ban from that place.

It just makes me wonder, and frankly, worry about the ways in which I've grown accustomed to dealing with people here. I can rationally understand where my anger comes from; it comes from my frustration in dealing with people on a daily basis who have a complete lack of basic logic, it comes from being manipulated by Senegalese people who are only out for an extra dollar or two, it comes from people assuming I am a complete idiot because I am not from here and I am am a woman, and it especially comes from constantly being the target of stares, points, and random racial slurs that are flung at me whenever I leave my house, whether these things are done in a malicious way or not. I think a lot of volunteers can mentally digest all of these things in ways which allow the volunteer to be "ok" with what is happening. Whether they are embracing these things as cultural differences, have retained a much level of tolerance than I have, or simply don't deal with these things because they are removed from them, I'm not sure. But, for me, it is much more difficult.

In trying to avoid taking my anger out on others, I find myself withdrawing a lot more than I used to, and spending time with only my nuclear family. It saves me the hassle of explaining for the umpteenth time that no, I can't give you any money and no, I don't want you as a husband. For people who pose those questions are indeed lurking everywhere. When I do go out, I choose who I interact with wisely as I know that people that want to work value their time just as much as I do. I choose to avoid people that are overtly rude, creepy, or lazy which I guess I would do in the States as well, but here it's a very conscious decision. I guess at the end of the day, if building up mental walls is what has made me emotionally strong enough to still be here, than I'm okay with the way I deal with people.

Now that I'm reading back on this, it sounds really mopey and depressing. I hope whoever is reading this doesn't think that I've lost all faith in the reason I am here because of some of the issues I have. I haven't. I love my Senegalese family and friends dearly, I appreciate and respect my work partners, and I look forward to getting things accomplished in the next 6 months. I also hope that the anger and frustration I feel towards other aspects of Senegalese society (or, to put it more correctly, the way I am treated in Senegalese society) will not follow me home to America. The last thing I would want is to return home to the Motherland for good with a huge helping of emotional baggage.

Happy (belated) Birthday Alyssa! In honor of Alyssa Titche's birth 24 long years ago, the Thies region ladies decided to indulge in 3 of Alyssa's favorite things: nature, animals, and various alcoholic beverages.

Okay...so maybe only that 3rd one is true.

It seems almost unreal that we have a mere 6 months (or so) left of service in Senegal. In realizing how scarce our time has become, we've started an end of service bucket list of all the things we want to accomplish before going home. A lot of this entails seeing parts of the country we haven't seen yet, and for Alyssa one of those places was Lac Rose. If you follow my blog, you might remember the trip I took out to this lake in early 2010. Basically Lac Rose is a giant lake about 45 minutes from Thies that is widely known for it's pinkish hue and the salt mining that goes on there. The lake used to be connected to the ocean many, many years ago so when it was cut off by an extended drought the lake retained all of the salt deposits which are now mined and exported to other countries.

We decided the lake would make a great overnight getaway since it was close and campements (hotels) were relatively cheap. Tamar and I researched various places to stay at the lake, and upon discovering that one of the hotels was named "Chevaux du Lac" (Horses of the Lake) I jokingly suggested this to Alyssa, assuming she would expressly refuse. She did not and instead claimed that riding horses on her birthday would be hilarious. Alyssa Titche interacting with large animals? I immediately booked a room.

On Wednesday morning the ladies rented a sept-place in Thies and picked me up on the side of the road in Pout and off we went. After a bumpy ride and an extended argument with the driver who refused to take us to the hotel without an additional payment, we finally made it to Chevaux du Lac on the less inhabited side of the lake. Since we had booked the cheapest place available we didn't necessarily expect to be impressed, but it was actually quite a nice surprise. Run by a French couple, and fit with what appeared to be only a few bungalows, the campement felt really comfortable and inviting. We stayed in the "grand lodge" which turned out to be a two story bungalow with more than enough beds and a Western style bathroom. Perfect!

After a quick drink to celebrate our arrival and kickoff Alyssa's birthday extravaganza, we were ushered out of our bungalow by the hotel manager. He led us to a tiny corral where our beautiful steeds awaited (and by beautiful, I mean not emaciated like every other horse in this country). We met our trail guide Moussa who was immediately amused by the fact that we all spoke Wolof. He gave us what I like to call "calf chaps" to put on our legs - and which took an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out for a group of 6 college graduates. Moussa picked out appropriate horses for each of us based on some sort of secret combination of size and experience.

Alyssa, incredibly excited and/or terrified

I've spent lots of time on horses in my life so I was given one of the more unruly of the bunch. She had a major attitude problem, but we bonded anyways. Her name was "Gassy" which I'm spelling incorrectly and is actually a Pulaar word meaning "last born" but I like to think that she was just proud of her flatulence.

The ride turned out to be absolutely amazing. Getting a handle on the horses was a bit difficult at first, especially because Alyssa's horse appeared to be half dead and was always at the back of the pack refusing to make any effort to catch up. We lovingly named Alyssa's horse "short bus."During the first part of the ride we headed through fields of perfectly tended crops and vegetable gardens (they impressed Erin and Emily, our token agricultural volunteers, so they had to be good) with beautiful sand dunes looming in the distance. At some point I was behind Tamar and our guide Moussa and was attempting to listen to the conversation they were having. Moussa told Tamar that he had just been married three months ago, but I somehow heard "just had a baby three months ago." I then asked Moussa, "boy or girl?" and he turned around and looked at me like I was crazy. Tamar burst out laughing and tried to explain that I hadn't heard correctly and he just shook his head at me. That was awkward. Especially when minutes later we arrived at a tiny village where Moussa introduced us all to his wife.

None of us had realized how close Lac Rose is to the ocean, so when we suddenly reached the peak of a sand dune and saw crashing waves in the distance we were astonished. It was an incredible feeling to come over one last sand dune and see a huge a huge stretch of pristine beach, with no one around but us and our horses. I think Moussa was a bit nervous when I told him that he and I should gallop our horses along the beach, but he let me convince him anyways. Riding a horse at breakneck speed along the ocean has got to be one of the coolest feelings in the world. It was incredible (even though I can still barely sit down days later).

We returned to the hotel through sand dunes and beautiful fields, sadly dismounted, and thanked Moussa for a beautiful experience. Our birthday fest was only beginning however, so we washed up before dinner, and then the hotel served us an AMAZING meal of cous-cous, chicken, and spiced carrots. They even remembered that it was Alyssa's birthday from us rambling about it all day, and served us dessert - complete with birthday candles for Alyssa.

We had some after dinner drinks in what was basically a tree house on the premises, and then headed back to our bungalow for a dance party. Really, what else are birthdays for? After a decent night's sleep we got up, had breakfast at the hotel, and spent most of the morning walking around the lake, enjoying the sights. We enticed Erin, our pro-Wolof speaker, to call and haggle for a sept-place to pick us up and we headed back to Thies around noon. It was a fantastic birthday celebration and I'm so thankful to have been there with Alyssa to ring in her 24th year.

Lots of pictures are up, so feel free to check them out in the newest Picasa album. Cheers!

Bean eaters, rice eaters, slaves, and slave masters...the cultural habit of asking for one's last name immediately upon introduction usually leads to a label like one of these being applied. Due to the wide array of ethnic groups found within Senegal's borders, it's easy to come across people from various ethnic backgrounds in one place and use their last names as a feature of identity. When encountered with a last name, it's usually attached to various (usually humorous) stigmas about the person's ethnic group. You might introduce yourself to a perfect stranger and as soon as he or she hears your family name, you'll be told that you eat too many beans, that you're in love with rice, or that - according to history - you held that person's family as slaves (which quickly becomes awkward for any white person involved).

My last name - Diallo (pronounced "Jah-lo") is a Pulaar name, signifying that my family is from the southern regions of the country where the Pulaars live. My Senegalese mom was, in fact, born and raised in Kolda which is way down south and therefore speaks Pulaar as well as Wolof, and even looks a bit different from purely Wolof people. I am constantly asked why I don't speak Pulaar when I introduce myself, and I usually end up telling people that I just don't have room in my head for a 4th language. They never think that is a valid excuse.

Today when I was visiting my supervisor Ousmane at the Mayor's office he introduced me to the new municipal secretary who had just started. Immediately upon shaking the man's hand and saying my last name, he clasped his hands and said "I am a Sidibe (his last name)...we used to be part of the same family, but not anymore." I was confused and asked him to elaborate and he told me what I guess would be considered a fairly tale and goes a little something like this:

A long, long time ago way down south there were four Pulaar brothers who were all named Sidibe and all lived together in a small village. One day the Sidibe brothers realized that they had outgrown their village and set out to explore the country and settle elsewhere. During their journey they came across a wide river where an evil spirit lived. The evil spirit, being the jerk that he was, refused to let the four brothers cross because they all had the same last name (why he chose this as his standard for passage, who knows). So, the brothers left and hatched a plan. A few days later the four brothers returned and asked for passage. When the evil spirit asked for their family names this time, the brothers all gave different last names (this evil spirit wasn't the brightest crayon in the box). The first brother said "My name is Diallo" and was allowed to pass. The second and third gave their new last names which I now can't remember and were also allowed to pass. The fourth brother said "My name is Sidibe" and so he, too, passed across the river but kept the family name to continue on for future generations.

When the secretary finished, I told him it sounded like a great story and I was glad that we were technically family. He just shook his head and said "No...we used to be family. You are a traitor and changed your name." He actually seemed a bit pissed and there was an awkward silence for a second...but then he started to laugh. As we left he told me to come back anytime and that he would pretend I was a Sidibe. I'm actually really glad he shared that story because it was the first time anyone has ever explained (albeit metaphorically) the origin of some of the Pulaar names.

Afterwards my supervisor and I headed to Ecole 1 which is the oldest elementary school in Pout. We had a meeting with the director about starting the Junior Achievement curriculum there in the coming weeks. I immediately liked the director upon meeting him and he seemed totally enthused and open to the idea. A huge religious celebration is starting at the end of this week and it will continue into the next, so I probably won't get to start classes until the week after that, but I'm okay with that. Patience, patience, patience.

Peace and love

Since leaving for the Peace Corps nearly 1 1/2 years ago, I've heard countless warnings on the idealization of the country I left behind. I've read accounts of volunteers who have headed home for vacation or after their service is complete and found themselves embittered and frustrated with our American ways, struggling with reverse culture shock, and feeling completely out of place. The striking juxtaposition of our modern, Westernized haven with the developing world may lure some volunteers into expecting to be overjoyed at the sight of American soil, only to be disappointed upon realizing that America is exactly the same as they left it, and really not all that great. America, they claim, is not as wonderful or magical as you imagine it in your head.

Well...whoever said that is severely mistaken.

America is amazing.

If it sounds like I'm attempting to belittle Senegal in any way or gloss over the impact that living the life of a Peace Corps volunteer here has had on me, I'm not. There are countless ways that this experience has changed me, but now is not the time to go there. Although one month in America is not enough time to unravel all of my feelings and thoughts surrounding this subject, the ultimate truth is that my service in Peace Corps has made me realize that I love my country, flaws and all (and there are flaws).

I will say say that my vacation in the Motherland was exactly what I needed. No more, no less. I made pit stops in New York City, Washington, Louisiana, Mississippi, Illinois, and Wisconsin in the span of 30 days, saw countless loved ones, got hardly any sleep, and ate my heart out along the way. Downtown Manhattan was overwhelming, Target was bigger and brighter than I remember it, and driving a car again was a bit surreal. Perhaps a month-long whirlwind tour spent hop-scotching around the country isn't enough time to really get past the magic and the wonder and sink into the reality of reconnecting with America. But it sure felt magical at the time.

I won't bore you the details of my cross-country trip, because after all, this blog is entitled "Jackie's Adventures in Senegal." And you (unless you're one of my fellow PC friends) probably live in America anyways! I don't need to describe how wonderful Chipotle burritos and Guinness are; you already know that.

For now it's back to Real World: Senegal. When that plane landed at the Dakar International Airport I just had to take a deep breath, close my eyes, and think "alright, let's do this." 17 months down, less than 7 to go. Now I'm back in Pout attempting to adjust to a normal sleep schedule and reconnecting with the family. I came home to a big hug from the Mom who immediately showed me to my house which she had spent all day sweeping and scrubbing in preparation for my arrival. It sounds dumb, but I actually almost cried I was so touched. After handing out the various presents I had brought back for my family, I promptly headed for my bed which I will be spending lots of time in, at least for the next couple days. Soon I'll (hopefully) be back to work and back in the thick of things.

In the meantime, I'll be sending the most happy of thoughts to my friends and family back in the states. You all made my trip spectacular and I miss you all dearly already. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Ba beneen yoon

The entire population of Peace Corps Senegal congregated in Thies this past weekend for the West African All Volunteer conference. In addition to the almost 200 PC Senegal volunteers in attendance, several volunteers from Togo, Burkina Faso, Mali, The Gambia, and Cape Verde joined us for the weekend. While one of our main goals appeared to be to fit as many drunk, sweaty, volunteers into one tiny bar as soon as the sun went down, the main purpose of the conference was to present projects and share best practices. Friday and Saturday were filled with various presentations and sessions all day, and I actually ended up learning quite a lot. Did you know that cervical cancer is one of the leading causes of death in women in developing countries? I attended a session run by a volunteer from Mali who is in the process of introducing cervical screenings in rural villages. The only things necessary to screen women for pre-cancerous cells is vinegar and iodine. Crazy, huh?

After several long days and too many long nights, I headed back to Pout yesterday. My Senegalese family cannot stop talking about my imminent trip home which is in THREE DAYS. It's a very surreal feeling to imagine myself touching down State side after being gone so long. Will it be as exciting and magical as I am picturing it in my head? Will I be completely overwhelmed and start crying in Chipotle? (impossible) How will my body react to the copious amount of cheese I plan to stuff it with? These are all important questions.

I'm hoping that my month in the States will give me enough time to reconnect with the loved ones I haven't seen in while, but will also give me a renewed sense of determination for when I am back in Senegal. Many many months ago I was sure that I wouldn't even make it as a volunteer to December, so the thought of a Christmas vacation in the Motherland was never in the cards. Now that I have the toughest times behind me, I know I am capable of sticking it out to the very end. I want to be able to come back here with faith in myself and my service even though right now, the thought of getting back on a plane to return to Senegal is daunting. (I might throw a small temper tantrum in the airport) With a month of crazy American happiness under my belt, I'm hoping it won't be hard at all to board that plane.

America here I come!

I wish I could say I was starting a project in Pout that had the word "ecolodge" in it, but alas, no one else sees Pout as the bumpin' tourist hot spot that I claim it to be.

My good friend Zach, however, does live somewhere that is exotic, beautiful, and interesting enough to have an ecolodge. He lives way down yonder in the southwestern most region of Senegal called Kedougou (where, if you follow my blog, I spent my 4th of July this year). The Kedougou region is one of the most beautiful regions in the country and Peace Corps places many ecotourism volunteers there to garner interest in local tourism. Zach was one of our "Mauritanian refugees," kicked out of Mauritania with his fellow volunteers when the country became too dangerous to sustain a Peace Corps program. Instead of high tailing it back to the States, Zach chose to extend for a year in Senegal to work on the continued development of an ecolodge in a little village called Segou. Zach has now extended his extension in order to see the project through until the very end...but he needs some help!

Instead of explaining the project in detail, I'll let you read about it if you are so inclined:http://sites.google.com/site/segouecolodge/

It's a great project and Zach is one of the most dedicated volunteers I know, so if you're in the giving mood, please help him out and donate a few bucks. Tis the season after all!

Cheers:)

Happy belated Thanksgiving! Hope you were as I stuffed as I was.

After a 3 day French seminar in Thies, I headed back to Pout on Tuesday to teach my Junior Achievement classes for the week. Normally I teach on Mondays and Wednesdays, but I needed to cram them in after the French class and before Thanksgiving festivities, so I did both of them on Tuesday afternoon. This week we talked about the pros and cons of 3 new business ideas for a hypothetical empty business space in Pout's market. It took quite a while for the students to understand that the "pros" of opening up a bakery in lieu of other businesses does not just mean writing down types of cookies. I think they eventually got the hang of it. In the end the students voted on what business would be best based on the pros and cons that the various groups had presented. I probably had one of my proudest moments as a Peace Corps volunteer when both classes collectively voted to not open yet another boutique (as there is literally one on every corner). If that's all I achieve while serving in the Peace Corps, then I'm totally satisfied.

Wednesday I was up early and headed to the garage to catch a car to Dakar. Once there, I headed to the Peace Corps office to meet up with my friends, and to pick up some major antibiotics. Turns out my crazy bout of sickness during the week of Tabaski was amoebas (as in little tiny creatures with what felt like pick axes attacking me from the inside and making me sick...that's the technical term for it anyway). So now the Peace Corps medical squad has prescribed a 13 day regimen of antibiotics to kill the little guys. Luckily I'll finish the meds the day before I head home for the States. So soon!

After spending some time at the office and hitting up the local grocery store for all sorts of cooking supplies, my friends and I headed back to the regional house to start preparing for our Thanksgiving Eve party. Our party was geared towards welcoming the new volunteers to the Dakar region as well as celebrating one of the biggest party nights back in the States. It was themed as "First Thanksgiving" and costumes were required. We ended up having a couple pilgrims, turkey twins (me and Katherine), several Native Americans, John Smith, a stick of butter, a Thanksgiving centerpiece, the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria (not exactly Thanksgiving but totally acceptable), and my favorite - small pox. Major points for creativity. Even though not everyone dressed up, we still looked pretty darn good. We made a huge vat of chili and homemade cornbread and everyone ate and celebrated the night away.

party fowl!

Katherine in hand turkey glory

Alyssa as a pilgrim

The Nina, The Pinta, and the Santa Maria

The next day my friends and I headed to our boss's house to spend the day cooking for Thanksgiving dinner. It is so much easier to cook somewhere that has actual cooking supplies, knives that can actually cut things, and best of all, air conditioning! But before tackling the Thanksgiving dishes we would be bringing to the US Ambassador's house we had a glorious brunch complete with BACON. It's amazing how instantly happy everyone becomes when bacon is involved. You just can't go wrong. We spent the next several hours making huge pans of homemade stuffing and cheesy squash casserole. It was really great to spend the day among friends (eating cookies along the way) and making dishes that I am now obsessed with. I have informed my mom that we will be repeating Thanksgiving when I am home and I will be making squash casserole again. So good!

Hours of cooking obviously requires a power nap, so after snoozing on couches for a bit, we dressed up in our Peace Corps finest and headed to the Ambassador's house. I had forgotten that it is possible to look like a real human being in this country. Among the many things I was thankful for this year, the thing I enjoyed the most was being able to share Thanksgiving with other Americans. When you are detached from your culture so long, you forget how important those moments are. I would not have spent Thanksgiving in Pout for all the money in the world. Our Thanksgiving night started off with an open bar of wine and beer around the Ambassador's outdoor pool.

attempting to look like normal people

The party then moved inside to tables with fine linens, real silverware, and wine service. Seriously, a different world! I stuffed myself to the point of passing out, and I must admit our squash casserole and stuffing totally stole the show. After overcoming the tryptophan induced coma and eating at least one more piece of pie my friends and I decided to check out a local luxury hotel right down the street from the Ambassador's. We wanted to end the night on a high note and it turned out to be the perfect ending; enjoying a post dinner cocktail pool side with the ocean waves crashing in the distance. I fell asleep that night perfectly happy and content.

Yesterday it was back to reality. After a brunch in downtown Dakar, Alyssa, Erin and I hopped in a sept-place and headed back to our stomping grounds. I basically collapsed upon entering my house in Pout and was completely ready to call it a night around 9 pm. I was shaken awake however around 10 with my brother banging on my front door yelling something about water. I stumbled outside and found my entire family gathered around the pipe that leads from our robinet (the water source in our courtyard) into my shower. Turns out the pipe had somehow broken into several pieces and water had been flooding into the courtyard for at least an hour before someone realized it. My family claims that the evil cats who live on my roof broke it on purpose. After shutting off the water, my mom was able to call a plumber who was there with in 15 minutes and had the heavy plastic piping patched and repaired within the hour. Talk about service. That wouldn't happen in the States! Not to mention we paid him the equivalent of a dollar. Pipe crisis averted.

Now I'm gearing up for my last Junior Achievement class on Monday and Wednesday. On Thursday I'll be headed to Thies for the West African Volunteer Conference where all of Peace Corps Senegal plus several visitors from neighboring Peace Corps countries will be in attendance. Should be a roaring good time.

New pictures are up in the album "End of 2010."

Ciao!

Along with every other Muslim family in Senegal, my family celebrated Tabaski on Wednesday. I could tell the night before that people were getting excited; loud music and spontaneous gatherings in the street continued until the wee hours of the morning. When I awoke on Wednesday, my mom and our maid were already busy cleaning every visible surface of our courtyard as our sheep eyed them suspiciously.

Around 9:30 am morning my brothers and my uncle headed to the mosque down the street to congregate with the other neighborhood men. They said their Tabaski prayers and when they returned it was time for the big event. My brothers gave our sheep its last bath, and then a local religious leader (or Imam) came to our house to slit the sheep's throat. The sheep was laid down on its side, with its head placed over a hole in the ground for the blood to drain into. I remember thinking last year that it would be extremely difficult to watch, let alone listen to, and I had assumed the sheep would struggle immensely. However, the process is actually very quick and calm. After its throat is cut open, the sheep dies within 1 or 2 minutes without making a sound, so it appears they don't suffer much (although it's still kind of gross to look at). And in case you are wondering, part of the honor of being a Tabaski sheep is getting a one way ticket straight into sheep heaven. So I'm sure our sheep (alias: Barack Obama) is somewhere up there at this very moment.

I could only stick around to watch a few minutes of all of the sheep killing and follow-up slaughtering business. Normally, I don't have a weak stomach, but I have been severely ill the last 2 days, so the queasiness set in fairly quickly. I spent the rest of the morning avoiding looking at the pile of various meat parts and offering help to my mom which she politely refused. I'm not sure if she was taking it easy on me because she knew I was sick or if I'm just not a good potato peeler. Perhaps a little of both.

Around 1pm we had what I like to call "Tabaski snack." The very first parts of the sheep that are eaten are the liver, kidneys and the ribs. They are cooked over a small open fire exactly like barbecue and slathered with spicy onion sauce and mustard. My brothers immediately pounced on the kidneys (I was happy to oblige them) and we ate a giant pile of ribs as a family. My stomach didn't allow me to eat much but I enjoyed spending time with my family and chatting about their Tabaski plans.

"Lunch" was served at around 4 pm; various cuts of mutton covered in onion sauce and fries and served with bread. I was able to eat barely any of it, but from what I could tell it was delicious: way to go mom! I feel really guilty about being not helping or participating more, but there's only so much I can take when everything makes me feel nauseous. I bought my family several liters of soda for after lunch in hopes they don't think I'm too much of a bum.

Since I wasn't feeling so great and my mom was utterly exhausted after cooking all day, we collectively decided that we would post-pone the new Tabaski clothes until the following night. I was 100% okay with that and made a bee line straight for my bed where I promptly slept for 11 hours.

The following day - Thursday - was just a normal day until later in the evening when my mom revealed her new orange boubou. This was my cue to change into my own clothes, and after fighting with the zipper for 10 minutes, I finally marched out. My family and I took lots of pictures (mostly of my mom) and then my brother and I went for a walk around Pout.

I think that night I had one of those moments when I realized "Wow...I am really going to miss this person when I leave here." My brother Moussa and I have become really close since I've moved here, and because he is close to my age and speaks really good English I'm able to communicate with him much better than other family members. He literally brought tears to my eyes, telling me that I'm the best "sister" he'll ever have and that he already dreads the thought of me going back to the States. It truly made me feel part of something, and since he really is the closest thing I'll ever have to a sibling, it's comforting to know we're on the same page.

After a leisurely walk with Moussa, I was then dragged around the neighborhood with the mom, practically falling asleep at each house. I swear, that women is the world's biggest social butterfly. I finally convinced her that sleep was necessary since I was getting up at 6 to head to Dakar. She relented and I ended my Tabaski night #2 by fighting with a zipper.

Yesterday I was up and out of my house super early. I went into Thies to pay my internet bill and then caught a car to Dakar. After spending some time at the Peace Corps office studying for the GRE, I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing poolside and playing volleyball with friends, trying not to think about the impending test. This morning I was up early again and headed to the testing center with my friend Ian to battle the GRE. While it didn't go as well as I had hoped it would, I'll just wait for the results in the mail to ascertain whether or not it was a success. I'm just glad it's over! Obviously we celebrated with beers afterwards.

Tonight I'm back in Pout and then tomorrow I'm off to Thies for a 3 day French language training. My French skills have taken a nose dive, so I'm taking a refresher course with a few other volunteers and a Peace Corps language instructor. The fun never stops:)

Until next time...

Under normal circumstances I balk at the idea of heading to Dakar for the day. It's not that it's super far away (usually about 2 hours), but the traffic and heat always make the ride less than comfortable and I like to pretend that I have better things to do at site. But Dakar and I have been on better terms lately and I've realized how much I always end up enjoying myself when I'm there. So when Alyssa and I were summoned to play a double header in softball today because our Dakar regional team was lacking in girls, we decided to make the day trip.

After a delicious lunch at the American club, we headed over to the softball field which sits right on the Atlantic ocean for our first game. The first team we played was a Senegalese team chock full of guys who can hit the ball like it's their job. But even though they had several amazing hits, our team was on fire and we beat them by 15 runs. The second team was a team of US Embassy staff and while they played really well, we beat them too. Two for two! And I somehow miraculously had 6 runs for the day. I think someone spiked my water.

All in all, it was a great time and since I won't be back to play softball until January due to random Peace Corps events and my holiday trip to the States, I'm really glad I made it. I will say though, the highlight of the day was definitely on the road trip home. Alyssa and I made it to the Dakar garage and after sitting in a sweaty hot box of a station wagon for an hour, our car was on its way. Of course, only after securely attaching a sheep to the roof of the car. Sheep fever has struck Senegal once again and everyone is transporting their hand picked Tabaski sheep all over the place. This includes sheep in rice sacks attached to the roofs of cars, sheep in the trunks of taxis, and my favorite - sheep tied to the back of a motorcycle. That one always looks ridiculously dangerous and impossible.

So I'm sitting in the middle seat of the front row of the car, with Alyssa next to me by the window. Somewhere about halfway home I'm in a complete daze, half asleep when I hear Alyssa shriek and lunge towards my seat to get away from the window. I look up to see liquid coming in through the open window and ending up all over Alyssa. "What is that? Is it raining?" I ask stupidly.

"The sheep is peeing on me!"

I could not stop laughing for the next 15 minutes. The Senegalese people in the back row of the station wagon were also cracking up, partially at Alyssa, and I'm sure partially at her jerk of a friend that found the situation to be incredibly amusing. The Senegalese guy sitting next to me just kept reassuring Alyssa that "It's a gift for you! ... You are so lucky!" Alyssa did not look amused. I'm still not sure if he was joking or there is, in fact, some weird cultural belief that Lady Luck is on your side when a sheep pees on you. Regardless, it was hilarious.

About 20 minutes later, Alyssa is still crouched at the very edge of her seat to avoid a pee soaked seat cushion, and I'm still giggling. Then, all of a sudden, the sheep takes another potty break and because Alyssa is no longer in the direct line of fire, the pee streams directly onto me.Karma is indeed a bitch.

Needless to say, when I told my Senegalese Dad about it after arriving home, he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. I had to laugh with him...and then take a serious shower.

Oh, P.S. My family has named our Tabaski sheep Barack Obama. I'll just take that as a sign of respect.

Er...meet.

Our Tabaski sheep showed up today. Apparently my Dad brought the sheep from Dakar since according to my family the sheep in Pout are not good, and when I ventured outside this morning, there he was in all his glory.

So, Mr. Sheep - and it is a Mr. as sacrificing a female is a faux pas - will live uncomfortably tied up in our courtyard until Tabaski next Wednesday. Tabaski (more commonly known as Eid al-Adha or the "Festival of Sacrifice") is the biggest Muslim holiday of the year and every family that can afford to will sacrifice a sheep and then eat mutton to their heart's content. In addition to buying sheep, everyone is already gearing up for the holiday by purchasing new outfits, talking at length about their new outfits, and stocking up on extra food.

It's hard to believe I was here celebrating Tabaski with my family last year. I won't be here next year when Tabaski rolls around, so I hope to make the best of the celebration this year. I doubt that watching a sheep be slaughtered in the front yard will be any easier the second time around though. While I completely understand and respect the religious significance behind the sheep killing, it still tugs on my heart strings to watch the poor thing just standing there awaiting his doom. I just try not to look him in the eye.

Eat up, Mr. Sheep. Your meals are numbered...

ONE MONTH until my much anticipated vacation in the States! A mere four weeks until I can surround myself with the people I miss most, embrace a burrito from Chipotle, and begrudgingly freeze my a** off. I can't wait.

Aside from counting down the days until I'm back ci Amerik, I've been spending each day doing... a whole lot of the stuff I did the day before. My life lately has been a bit too routine and redundant for my liking, but I guess there's always bound to be periods of time like that. Didn't someone once say that war is "long periods of boredom punctuated by brief moments of terror" or something along those lines? That's sometimes how I feel about Senegal. Long periods of boredom...and then I get on any sort of public transportation in this country and feel only terror until I reach my destination.

Lately I've been hitting the books for the GRE which I'll be taking in a couple of weeks. I'd say if there's one thing I've learned from my studying it's how many math formulas I knew once upon a time that I have completely forgotten. I also find myself getting really aggravated when people use GRE vocabulary words incorrectly in their sentences...and then realize that I do the exact same thing. Quite the ego boost.

But enough about boring things. The focus of this post is something infinitely more amusing....TAXES! This week my Junior Achievement class focused on the role of government, namely how a tax structure fits into the local and national government. I was surprised at how much the students understood about the idea of public services and why we have them. But then, I had to laugh when I tried to "collect the taxes" (fake money I made for the class) from various students. Several of the kids lined up in the front of the room representing various government workers like teachers, police officers and the mayor. The class was shocked and appalled when I attempted to collect the normal tax amount from Mr. Mayor. "Mayor's don't pay taxes!" they yelled at me. It took 15 minutes and a cameo from their actual 5th grade teacher to finally convince them that the mayor does indeed need to pay. I think I may have crushed a few dreams about a life without taxes. In any case, the class went really well and I am proud to say there were no rebellions from the class yesterday. I'm sure tomorrow will be just as even keel.

In other news, a week from tomorrow is Tabaski, the biggest Muslim holiday of the year, and I can tell my family is already gearing up. We'll be slaughtering a sheep again like we did last year, and I'm sure I'll be asked to help my mom butcher the entire thing (lucky me). When I tried to tell my mom that I would be wearing the same outfit that I wore last year from Tabaski she just shook her head in shame. I immediately started to panic and wonder how I could get clothes made on such short notice, but my friend Katherine saved the day and offered me one of her nice outfits to borrow.

Until Tabaski I'll keep on entertaining myself with GRE books, coloring parties, and teaching kids about bizness.

Jamm ak jamm

Ok, this is 100% completely random, and under normal circumstances I would never think to write about what I dream about at night on my blog (because who cares really?). But - I feel the need to mention what was in my dream last night because I find it really amusing.

So, I had a dream that I was wandering around downtown Manhattan and all of a sudden I realize that there is a giant mountain lion/sabre-toothed tiger thing on the loose that is terrorizing the city and eating people (I didn't say it was a pleasant dream). In the dream, I can see people down the street being attacked so I run over to a parked squad car in Times Square and convince the police officer to let me in the back. Instead of, oh I don't know, getting the hell out of there, I convince the police officer that I am totally down to help him hunt this crazy lion/tiger thing all over town. So we drive around, attempting to follow it and shoot it (apparently I have a gun?) all the while hearing screams and seeing people running all over the place. In the midst of all of this terror, I calmly tell the police officer that I need to get out of the car and before he has the chance to stop me I leap out of the car and jog over to...a convenience store. I am very distinctly aware (even while dreaming) that I am in search of Oreos. Because, of all things to be doing at that very moment, buying Oreos is obviously the most important (?)

So, anyways, I find the Oreos and take them up to the register to where the sales clerk is waiting (clearly she hasn't heard all the screaming). She rings them up and tells me the total. "Two thirty" she says. I pull out my wallet, and instead of searching for two dollars and thirty cents (because I am fully aware I am in New York City) I hand her a 250 CFA coin (the currency of Senegal). This is roughly equivalent to 50 cents. She looks at it and is very confused and I bolt out of the store yelling "no worries, keep the change" and run back to the cop car with my Oreos. I then spend the rest of the night on a quest to find the sabre-toothed tiger with the cop and finish all the Oreos.

What I get from all of this is:

1) I am completely lacking in sound judgment in my dreams2) I'm a fat kid in my dreams 3) I'm a scam artist in my dreams

...all of which make me hope dreams don't directly translate to reality?

Happy belated Halloween!

In honor of the holiday that no one in Africa understands, my friends and I decided to get away for the weekend. On Friday, I headed into Thies and caught a car with 6 other friends to Mbour, a city south of where I live on the coast. We returned to one of my new favorite places in Senegal - the Warang Distillery - where I had made a trip back in August. After spending the afternoon indulging in (free!) tastes of several local liqueurs, we grabbed another car and headed to Dakar. Thinking we would make it to Dakar early enough to have an extravagant Mexican fiesta at the regional house, it turned out we were too tired after spending almost 3 hours in traffic and smog.

We did however decide that beef taco salad is a perfectly appropriate breakfast so we stuffed our faces full of delicious Mexican things (courtesy of Mrs. Titche!) Saturday morning. After that it was off to softball were we continued the American indulgence with beer and nachos because really...how do you pass that up? Although we lost the game, fun was had by all - and I managed to hit the ball once. Huzzah. Saturday night we celebrated Halloween at our friends' apartment downtown and the fun continued until the wee hours.

Sunday we awoke to Halloween goodie bags (courtesy of Mrs. Titche again!). After almost going into a sugar coma, we had a delicious brunch downtown and then caught a car back to Pout/Thies. For some reason my immune system hates me lately, and I came down with a wicked sore throat almost immediately upon walking into my front door. Although I feel basically fine, I sound like a 82 year old chain smoker. It's lovely.

On to the point of this post: crazy donuts. This is how I would describe my class yesterday. Since Monday was All Saints' Day and Senegal feels the need to celebrate every Catholic holiday even though 95% of the population is Muslim, my Junior Achievement class was moved to yesterday. My Senegalese mom randomly asked me if she could come to the class and I was really excited that she was coming along...mostly because she's a strong Senegalese woman and can scare students into behaving (or at least I hoped that). I knew the regular 5th grade teacher had other obligations so I was a bit nervous about handling the class by myself. So, we showed up and everything appeared to be going smoothly. The class even stood up when we entered the room and said in unison "Good Afternoon Madame Khady." That was just weird and reminded me of my terrible Catholic school days in Texas.

The beginning of the lesson went well: we talked about the meaning of production and a product and the difference between unit production and assembly line production. Then I explained that we would be making "fake donuts" (i.e. little white circles of paper) in order to understand these concepts. I split up the class into 4 teams of 5 with the additional students being "inspectors". During the first round, the teams practiced the idea of unit production; each team member "made" the donut themselves by writing "flour", "egg", "sugar", and "milk" on one side of the white circle while coloring in brown (chocolate) or yellow (vanilla) on the other side of the circle. All 5 people on each team would work individually and try to make as many donuts as they could in 2 minutes and the inspectors would check their work at the end.

This led to utter chaos. The students definitely understood the goal of the assignment, but HOLY COW can they cheat! I was amazed at how completely complaisant they are to blatantly cheat right in front of me. I was literally running around the room grabbing markers out of hands and white circles off of desks because they would not stop after the 2 minutes were up. Then they would start cutting out circles from their own paper and try to make donuts under the desks or steal donuts from other teams. I mean, really. All the while my poor Senegalese mom is trying to command obedience and random neighborhood kids are throwing things in through the windows.

Round 2 was supposed to be a lesson on assembly line production. Instead of each student making an entire donut, each team of 5 would work together to make the donuts. The first person would write "flour", the second "sugar", the third "egg", the fourth "milk" and the last person on each team would color the opposite side. It took quite a while for them to understand that you have to pass the pieces of paper (I saw one girl trying to write "flour" as many times as she could on one side of one circle...it was cute). But...again. Utter chaos. Kids started erasing the numbers I had written down on the board keeping track of donut counts when my back was turned and I saw one kid try to write on somebody's face in brown marker. Crazy donuts!

By the end I was so hoarse from trying to talk over everyone with a sore throat I could barely speak at an audible level. When everyone had finally calmed down and I had erased all of the "production" numbers off the board so no one could accuse anyone else of cheating, I attempted to lay the smack down. I basically said that I would cancel the class if they continued to misbehave and completely disregard my authority. That seemed to quiet them down. There is no way I am holding another class next week without the teacher present.

On the flip side, I held the second weekly class today and it went much, much better. I learned from my mistakes and the class's atrocious behavior yesterday and told the class up front that I would not tolerate cheating or bad behavior (ugh...I just reminded myself of all those elementary and middle school teachers that used to seem so mean). There was still rampant cheating, but since today's class is a smaller group, it was manageable.

All I have to say is that I have so much respect for teachers, especially here in Senegal. I talked with the French professor that I live with and explained my astonishment at the level of cheating and she said it is one of the things that aggravates her the most. She said that Senegalese children are just brought up that way and that cheating is (sadly) very prevalent, especially in school. Not only do I not understand why this is, it is shocking to me that is so widely accepted. I won't even begin to try to figure that one out, but I certainly hope it changes for the better!