Misirah Dantila: My first two weeks!

It’s official: I have just completed my first two weeks in my new home of Misirah Dantila. They’ve been crazy, so so difficult but great overall. Each day seems to stretch on into an oblivion of faltering language learning, unsuccessful attempts to elude the overwhelming, 120+ heat, and just plain old exhaustion. I do fun things like hanging out under some palm fronds swapping English and Malinke lessons with my villagers for hours or trampsing off into the bush to cut down trees and build a bed with my brother/ work counterpart. But even in the simplest, most pleasant of events I am constantly floundering in a sea of unfamiliar language and culture with nary a soul to share an English conversation or perhaps an American meal with.  And indeed, the dislocation and lonesomeness that comes with this floundering has been intense. I miss my family friends something fierce, I think like I never have before. I miss home, the feeling of being home, where general, everyday interactions flow like water and the Georgia oaks and rivers surround me in coolness, shade and peace.  And then, just for emphasis, I go back to missin them good friends and family. Whoo! It’s been tough some times.

                   All that said, I still say that these first couple weeks have been amazing. The brand newness of my village and all of my experiences in it is exhilarating. Every day I learn something new- Jaxanke/Malinke phrases (there’s some debate as to what language my villagers actually speak), bits of magic and superstition, village customs and handy-tasks such as thatching grass huts or making nails out of bamboo.  My only real work right now is getting to know the language and the people, so I spend all my days wanderin’ about and finding folks to chat with. I help women crack peanuts or the young boys make the thatching for the huts. And, in trying to make myself useful, I also pick up on new words and new acquaintances which will be very useful for my work later on. 

And, most importantly, I really like the people.  My village has about 1,200 folks which is relatively big for being way the heck in the middle of nowhere ( I bike down the long, dusty roads with nothing but wilderness bush and distant mountains as far as the eye can see- it is wild and really beautiful).  I have by no means met everyone, and still have a long way to go to memorizing everybody’s names. But everybody knows my name and greets me enthusiastically wherever I go: “Fode Made Tanjian, Kor Tanante? Heera Tilinta!”.  They’re a testy bunch of people, constantly quizzing me on my Jaxanke skills and giving me grief when I screw up.  This is quite frequent given the greetings, tenses, and many words are entirely different than what I learned in class. And, past that, it is such a long road learning this language and deciphering what sounds like a bunch of mumbling three quarters of the time.  But they are nonetheless forgiving, helpful, and really friendly.  Everybody’s always cracking jokes and laughing. When I greet the women they offer me mangoes or this green goo called Jambo. A pack of cute, dirty children follow me wherever I go, helping me with Jaxanke and trying to climb on me.  And the old men (keebalu) have sent along many a gift to my compound to make me feel welcomed: fish, a deer leg, and even some prize antelope organs in Tupperware bowl. Yum!!,

And at night everybody gathers around my compound at night to chat, gossip, and demand that I play guitar. One night when I was playing for everybody I played a song in French. This started off a chain of song requests in different languages: “Sing us an English one.. Now Jaxanke, now Wolof… now Pulaar!”, all the way down to Jalunke, a tiny tiny language that is spoken in my region.  In most of these languages I know at best a couple phrases and in Jalunke I know how to say ‘come here, come eat’ at that’s it. But nevertheless I attempted, singing things like Bob Marley’s ‘One Love’ with Pulaar words mixed in. It was hilarious!

I spend the biggest part of my days with Cheik Moctar Tanjian. He is my village counterpart with whom I will probably doing many health projects as I get a little farther into my service. He is also my brother.  I have a bunch of other siblings living around me- at least 37 of my nuclear family (my Father/ village Chief was quite prodigious and somehow acquired 5 wives even though Muslim law allows for only four). And so, though I like all my Tanjian family (about every single man in my village is named Tanjian), It is very confusing and very big.  So Cheik, his wife and two kids are my go-to family. He has built a brand new hut right next to mine and we hang out about all the time.  He teaches me all kinds of jaxanke, though lately our long rambling conversations have been in French quite a bit. In turn I’ve begun English lessons with him, and we go about various villages tasks together. We’ve built him a palm frond bed and we hang out with my other counterpart, Diop, at the health post where they both work. There we’ve watched WWF smack down (oh lord!) and soccer on our village’s sole TV. But best of all we did a baby weighing and vaccination followed by a ridiculous, village-wide fish hunt last Sunday.

The vaccination day and baby weighing was really exciting. And helping out putting the cutest of little babies on a scale and marking down their progress was rewarding and illuminated some potential work opportunities later on. Though there were no babies that were terribly underweight, there were at least a number who were moderately malnourished which can be very dangerous in the long run.  The real spectacle and truly exciting even was the fish hunt.

Fishing day in Misirah Dantila is nothing at all like any fishing trip I could possible dream of in the US. Preparations for the hunt started two days before hand. I was on my way to play some soccer when I found a bunch of guys making bows and arrows. I was terribly intrigued and asked them what they were going to be hunting. Fish they replied. What?? But indeed, they make these crazy palm-frond turrets in the middle of the river and then wait to an unsuspecting Yego Bun Baa (big fish) swims by and then THWAP! The hunting is not just limited to the men of the village, though, nor is the technique just bows and arrows. Indeed, about every woman in the village was out in the streets the day before, pounding some kind of tree material with these huge mortars. They kept trying to explain what this was for (something about how the fish can’t see you when you put it in the water), but I only understood when I got to the river the day of the hunt.

That day as soon as our vaccinations Cheik and I grabbed my machete, hopped on our bikes and headed into the bush to the river. When we got there we found a huge, village wide party at the river’s edge. Everyone was there- old men, women, children, and everybody was armed. They had nets, bows, and machetes and were all hootin’ and hollarin’, kids leapin’ in the water, everybody cheering like a baseball game when someone caught a big one.  All the river was littered with the baskets and baskets of plant stuff they had ground up. This was, I soon found out, a mild poison! The poor fish didn’t stand a chance against such a varied arsenal.  Cheik and I dove right in (not literally!), and before long were wacking these little fish called Kon Kongs with my machete when we’d find one sneakin up for a bite of food near the river’s bank.

Before long we had ourselves a few good sized ones, and an old keeba gifted me these two prized ones that he had caught. These we left by a tree and headed on down the bank to look for more Kon Kon’s. Eventually, maybe six or seven Kon Kongs the richer, we headed back to our original spot to gather up the winnings. When we got there though we found all of our stuff but no fish! I’m lookin’ all around but to know avail, so pretty soon the nearby fishers figure out that my fish are gone and sound the alarm. “TOUBAB LOST HIS FISH!!” I hear them yelling at the top of their lungs. And soon the call is taked up by the villagers downstream and out of site, “Toubab lost his fish!!”.  Thankfully (more than anything this was just embarrassing!) Cheik finds our fish just a tiny bit downstream and the Villagers sound out the everything’s-cool call, “TOUBAB FOUND HIS FISH!”. Aye, what a crazy day!

Anyway, now I’m off in Saraya typin the last words and getting ready to head back to my crazy life in Misirah. At 50 km Saraya is the closest road town to me. It is hardly more than a big, paved road intersection, but with electricity and 4 boutiks it feels like a booming metropolis.  I’m not sure how often I’ll be coming here, but I have two volunteer friends who are here and there are cold drinks for the having, so hopefully I’ll be coming to here or Kedougou at least every 2 to 3 weeks.  And, when I do, I shall be sure to write again.  Hope so much that you all are in the best of health and spirits!

Ian

The end of preservice training, on to new beginnings!

Hey everybody! Time has been flying by and I’ve gotten woefully behind in my blog updates. I think last time I wrote we were just about to find out the location of our permanent sites where we’ll be working for the next few years (I think that was around week 5).  Now, four or so weeks later, we’ve found out those sites, visited them, come back for a few more weeks of pre-service homestay and language learning, and had a number of wonderful and ridiculous experiences along the way.  Whew! In two days we’ll have a big ceremony hoopla in Dakaar to be sworn in as regular bonafide volunteers. Then the next morning we ship of to our new sites-  I’m simultaneously really excited and a little terrified.

                I don’t quite know where to start- the last few weeks have been crazy, busy, and truly joyful.  But I suppose I’ll begin where I left off last time: site announcements.  At the time I was all kinds of sick (I’m so sorry for leaving my blog at that and not writing a ‘I’ve gotten better and have been in great health since’ post.  Xekatu!! (jaxanke sorry!)).  Nevertheless, I headed out to the basketball court here at the training center and got blindfolded with all my fellow volunteers. We were then taken by the hand and silently led around the old map of Senegal that is painted on the court. Finally, after they led us in enough circles to be sure we were utterly disoriented and confused, they yelled for everyone to take off their blindfolds.  I opened my eyes and looked at my feet and found myself standing in Kedougou, the farthest southeast region of Senegal…  and in the absolute farthest corner of Kedougou for that matter!  Next to me I found Ben, so far my best bud here in Senegal, along with Patrick, Marielle, Larocha, and Martin. We all burst out cheering and smiling, celebrating the creation of our great Kedougou crew!

Me and Ivy, blindfolded and smilin'!

                 Later on after another week or so of homestays we all came back to Thies and piled into Peace Corps cars at some terribly ungodly hour of the morning to ship out to Volunteer Visits.  During Volunteer Visits trainees get to stay with a volunteer in the region.  We shadow our hosts to see what their work and life is like and, Inshallah, visit our future villages. All this was accomplished during my VV with the addition of some ridiculous drama along the way!

                To start with, Kedougou is beautiful and really far away! In utter contrast to the rest of deserty Senegal there are trees everywhere, big waterfalls in the southern mountains, and best of all no sand!! When we arrived, sweaty and exhausted after a day long, bumpy car ride we were greeted to the most wonderful welcome party hosted by all the current volunteers.  We drank choice beverages (though in Senegal there is really not such a thing as ‘choice’!) and ate the most delicious Mexican meal.  After a month straight of nothing but ceeb u jen (rice and fish), beans and salsa and tortillas were heaven. I can’t imagine after two years! 

My new host siblings!

The next morning Marielle and I headed out with our volunteer host Kate to Marielle’s new village of Nafadji.  Some kind of bad wind must have been blowin’ that day though, ‘cause the day was fraught with one weird disaster after another.  It started with Kate’s bike tire popping in Kedougou and me losing a nice pocket knife I had just purchased in the market.  Next I came back from my unsuccessful knife search to find my i-pod utterly drenched in peanut butter which had exploded in my bag.  Of course paper towels weren’t to be found so, looking around to see if anyone was watching, I proceeded to lick the entire i-pod clean. And, alhamdiloulahi, it still works!!  Marielle actually had a bottle of shampoo explode in her bag later in the day, but the real trouble was yet to come.



This trouble came in the form of a bottle of African Fun (a fanta-esque soda) and a sneaky thief.  In Marielle’s beautiful, really stereotypically African looking village of Nafadji we headed out to get said soda. The store owner was trying to charge us 1000 cfa, so we spent maybe 20 minutes or so bargaining for it, offering 700 cfa as long as he threw in his cat in the deal.  When we finally returned we walked into Marielle’s hut to find the back door open and Kate’s back pack gone. And this was no ordinary bag; it contained her camera, 20 or 30,000cfa, i-pod, passport, whole life. Aye!

After a healthy number of curses and a thorough search we went to Marielle’s dad (who just so happens to be the village chief) to explain the situation and insist that he call a village meeting.  And a little while later the gigantic village drum was sounding and all of the old men (keebaalu) were coming to her compound.  The meeting then commenced- all three of us toubabs sat next to the chief with all the elders sitting on mats in front of him.  Despite the gravity of the situation it was fascinating to see the workings of a malinke meeting.  One guy was the designated “uh-huh”er, and the old folks would take turns making long, very important sounding speeches while the uh-huh guy sounded out every 5 seconds or so. 

After maybe an hour or so of this we took a brief break. We came back a few minutes later for more speeches and uh-huhing. Just a tiny bit in to round two of the meeting all of the sudden two guys come in to the compound and toss Kate’s bag and all of her stuff in a pile in front of it. Apparently the thief had ditched it in the bush somewhere, and everyone lunges forward to see if all the stuff is still there. Alhamdiloulahi most of her valuables (minus some mula) were there, but just as we’re searching her bag we hear this awful scream. The scream came from just past the fence of the compound where all of the women were gathered to watch the meeting. It’s then taken up by all the other women, who disappear down the street with this anguished, wailing chorus while all the men are yelling “Jon mu?” (who is it!?).  Kate leans to Marielle and I (we were utterly confused and scared) and says, “that means someone has died”.  What?!?  It turns out that that is how people mourn and spread the news when they hear of a death, but we never figured out any more to the story.

Hoping the weirdness and drama of the night was done, Kate, Marielle and I retired to her compound.  But alas, more was on its way! In the middle of the night we wake up to this terrifying banging on Marielle’s door. Kate goes out and Marielle and I stay inside, wondering what on Earth is going on. Maybe 20 minutes later Kate comes back. Apparently they had caught the thief, who turned out to be a 14 year old boy. Then they tried to tie him up with some sort of rubber (who knows what they were planning on doing with him) but he escaped into the night.  Aye yay yay!

Me infront of my brand new, just finished hut!

Thank God the next morning was calmer. An incredibly friendly villager named Mamadi volunteered take Marielle 15 or 20 km down the road to my new village of Misirah Dantila so Kate could stay and sort out post-robbery details.  The ride was beautiful and deep deep into the bush.  We got to my village after maybe an hour and a half and then spent the next three hours making the grand tour. Without Kate there it was certainly trial by fire in Malinke (most of the folks there don’t speak French), but it was amazing! All the villagers were so welcoming, truly happy to have us there and treat us to tea and maafe tigo (rice with peanut sauce).  All of the men in the village were just finishing the roof of my hut when we got there, and I almost ended up climbin’ up to put on the finishing touches.  And they gave me my new name: Fode Made Tanjian!

Marielle petting a warthog on the way back from Kedougou

Whew- I’ll try to wrap this up ‘cause I know it’s getting long! The rest of training has flown by- we’ve been learning languages, getting really close to our families as we are better able to communicate. Too, I’ve been getting closer and closer to some of the volunteers, particularly my closest buds Ben and Chelsea (both amazing, amazing folks!). 

And now ( I tried to post this just before swear in but failed) I’ve been sworn in as a new volunteer and am getting ready to install in my site the day after tomorrow.  The swear in ceremony was at the American Ambassador’s house.  The Peace Corps director, Senegalese ministers and various other big men were there, and I gave a speech in Jaxanke!  Aye! Inshallah it will be put up on youtube, so if I find a link to it I’ll be sure to share it with everyone.

I hope to write again soon, and pray that all is well in your lives.

The first few weeks of homestay: Gardening, Jaxanke classing, and Senegalese dancing

Hello everybody! I’m writing you all after having disappeared for the past couple weeks into the crazy, often weird, on the whole wonderful life of my home-stay.  I’ve been living in the great big sandy city of Mburr with the Cisokho family, going to classes and gardening and doing my very best to learn their relatively obscure Senegalese language called Jaxanke. Homestay has its definite ups and downs, but I love my family and have settled into a routine quite happily.



Every morning I wake up super early- maybe 5 or 5:30- to the blaring sounds of mosque calls to prayer, roosters, or noisy cat fights.  Every town in Senegal is equipped with a million different mosque PA systems which blast chanting or other often goofy sounding blabbing at all hours of the day and night. At times I think I’ve heard them unwittingly turn on the mics and treat everyone in my side of Mburr to a conversation about the latest wrestling match or how tasty the rice and fish (Cheb a jen) they had last night was. Ha!

Then if my host brother Mohammed doesn’t come banging on the door to get me to go running at the beach with him (Mburr is most happily situated right by ocean!), I’ll go back to sleep for a little longer and then get up for breakfast with my Dad, Mom and Aunt.  In addition to them I live with three older brothers who range in age from 24 to 40, and have at least three other brothers and one sister who are off in various parts of the world. Though I get along with everybody really well, if I could have one wish it would definitely be for a bunch of little brothers and sisters.  I think playing with children would be such a great fall back when my caveman Jaxanke is failing and the space of our big, sometimes lonesome house becomes overwhelming. 

Breakfast is delicious bread and butter and bad coffee which we sip while watching a ridiculous, unceasingly dramatic Spanish soap opera called Frijolito.  I have long French conversations with my father (mBa), who has traveled around the world, maybe speaks 20 languages, and loves to lecture me about the various goings on of the world and American capitals. Then to my Aunt (nNandin) and mom (nNaa) I say what would literally translate to “I am going school to, with friend others I do the eating, I be returning will this evening.” …Or something like that! Crazy Jaxanke language!



I drew the short straw of homestay locations and ended up on the entirely opposite side of Mburr from everybody else, so my trek to class is 40 minutes or so.  I make the most of it though, and have befriended just about everyone along the way. In the beginning every kid in the world would yell “Toubab, Toubabe!” which means ‘Hey Whitey!”. Now, though, everyone yells Mamadou- my Senegalese name, or Amadou or Mamadi if they’ve gotten mixed up. All the little kids run up with huge smiles for handshakes, older folks ask me to come have tea and quiz me on my Wolof, and everybody tries to get me to do the hugely popular, silly looking Senegalese ‘Yousa’ dance!

Jaxanke class is held in one of the other volunteer’s houses on a big blue and red mat in an otherwise empty room.  We are taught by Lamine, one of the many brilliant Language and Cultural Faciliators that Peace Corps employs here in Senegal.  Classes are tough but really helpful, and we’re slowly gaining the grammar and vocab to discuss really silly scenarios.  Yesterday we actually had our first language test.  And, not to toot my own horn, but I was very happy to have made it to intermediate low Jaxanke! (Peace Corps requires you to make intermediate mid by the end of training)

This blog is getting too long, so I’ll try to speed through the last bits.  After class I go home for lunch, which is almost invariably rice and fish. We eat around a big bowl communal bowl on a variety of chairs, stools, and mats, arguing in Jaxanke about whether or not I’m full…. “A domo! (eat!)” “Mfaataa (I’m full!)”  “I faataa?? A domo!!”. Afterwards or in the evenings my brothers come into my room, fiddling away on my guitar and insisting I sing in English. Generally it’s Bob Marley, but sometimes I sneak in some Disney songs just for kicks! And, if I’m lucky, my mom might sing in Jaxanke while my aunt dances. Amazing!

 I take a sweaty, unpleasant nap almost every day cause the middays are absurdly hot, and then make the long trek back to the other side of Mburr. At a little school there our Jaxanke and Mandinke classes  have created a beautiful garden, and we’ve also made a lovely mural map of Senegal.  It’s complete with camels and lions, and even has some kind of crazy sea dragon swimming amongst the dolphins. We’re all very proud.

Watering the garden or painting away ends most of my days, and I usually head home for more rice and fish and guitar playing till sleep sneaks up on me.  Every now and then we’ll sneak in some break in the routine like a day at the beach or a visit to the health clinic to help out with baby weightings.  I’ve really enjoyed getting close to a lot of the folks in our group as well as some of the Fula Kunda trainees who are also living in Mburr (the number of languages that are spoken in a single city, never mind all of South Dakota size Senegal, always blows me away! ) 

In a few minutes we’ll be finding out our future sites where we’ll be spending the next two years! So exciting! Unfortunately though I’ve been destroyed by a fever for the past couple days, though thankfully a few of my friends have taken amazing care of me here at the center in Thies. And (Alhamdilloulai), my malaria test turned out negative.  So here’s hoping I’ll be well enough to get blindfolded and physically led to my site on the basketball court map of Senegal.  Updates coming soon!

Slowly slowly I trap the monkey in the bush! (ndanknakk moi goloo chi nyai!)

Voila! Here's my attempt to upload pictures of the first few days of our Training in Thies.  As you all can see, it's been a lot of hard work, and there's been very little time for dancing and enjoying the fantastic weather and culture!  Tomorrow though we head off to our homestays and will be totally immersed in whichever language we are destined to learn. As for me, I'll be learning a language called Jaxanke which is spoken in the southeast of Senegal. I'm so excited!



Greetings from Senegal!!!

Asalaa Malekum my dearest Family and friends!

I'm writing you all to tell you that I'm safe and sound, happily installed in Senegal and having an absolutely wonderful time already.  We flew in on a quick and uneventful flight three nights ago, landed in Dakar before the sun rose, and there was David Vaughan! (For those of you who don't know him, he is one of my dearest friends who has been doing Peace Corps in Dakar for the last six months. And you should know him!) It was so dang good to see him. We talked at high speeds trying to catch up but pretty soon I was wisked away on our Thies caravan and he went off to a school garden he's begining. 

The drive out of Dakar was thrilling and super ugly, so many people and trash and traffic everywhere, milling about with a sense of unchained but benign chaos. Once we got into the country though, much more peaceful and inviting dusty lands with towering baobobs welcomed us, and soon enough we arrived in this fantastic paradise of the Thies preservice training sight.  I am currently writing you underneath the shade of a big communal grass hut. Its almost entirely encircled by comfy cushions (perfect for sleep deprived volunteers). Folks all day have been chatting and lounging on the cushions, and a whole bunch of others are playng games on brightly colored mats on the floor.  All around our little compound are tin roofed huts, mahogany trees, and gardens with the most beautiful tropical flowers and tasty looking veggies. The days have been gorgeous- blue skies and hot sun but with a constant lovely breeze blowing through this big hut and cooling us down. What a place to be!

On our first long, beautiful day we finished up one some health information sessions and then were treated to a fantastic dance-drumming party. Four guys came and played these big, djembe-esque drums and then we all danced in a big circle around them. The dancing was awkward and hilarious and was especially fun when the younger drummer led us in crazy senegalese dances.  They involved lots of swaying, call and response, and almost always ended in these crazy crab pose that cracked everyone up. I suspect that this was made up to make fun of the crazy Americans (Toubabs), but oh well!

Breakfast is a small affair here- bread and nuttela mostly- but lunch and dinner have been great.  Lunch is eaten on the floor around a big, communal bowl with spoons or just your right hand. We've been slowly finding out all the terrible cultural fauxpas we've been making, but it's been so much fun to practice our caveman Wolof and chat around a gigantic bowl of rice and chicken or beans.  

We spent a lot of today (Friday) in Senegalese culture sessions.  These consisted of Islam lessons, baobob juice and tea drinking, and pit latrine demonstrations! Ha!

Anyway, i reckon I'll should finish this big ol missive.  In a couple days we head out to our preservice homestays where we will be totally immersed in the culture and whatever local language we will be learning for the next 8 or so weeks. So I shall try to take advantage of this unexpected ease of internet access, and will hopefully be posting pictures soon.

Ba Beneen,
Ian