Chillin in Toubakouta

Yay I have a computer! I apologize in advance- this might be long. I don’t have computer access that much these days, so I take advantage when I can.

Biked into Toubakouta to hang out with Garrison and Amy and see civilization for a few hours. Sometimes I forget what it looks like. Granted, our definition of civilization is a bit different here- if I can get a bean sandwich in a little shack and speak English with another volunteer for a few hours, I’m a pretty happy camper. The ride in is really beautiful- it is about 4 kilometers to Saloum Diane on a sand road, which is a pain, then a little over 20 or so into Toubakouta on a laterite clay road. It’s about a 2 hour ride, so you can imagine I will be in pretty damn good biking shape after 2 years of this. Pan-Mass challenge, anybody? I showed up at another volunteer’s door randomly since the internet café next door was going to charge me a mil an hour to use the internet, which is ridiculous in comparison to the 300 I paid in Sokone. Now I am sitting and typing on his computer while he does laundry, and I will upload this in a little while at a campemont with internet access. Eventually, I will have internet at site, so that should solve that problem.

Last Thursday, I went to a groupemont training down in Karang on the border of the Gambia. To get there, I stayed overnight with a study-abroad student in Saloum Diane and caught a sept-place at 6 am down to the city, and a Peace Corps car brought us over to the garden. Translation, for those of you who are not yet fluent in PC-Senegalese: a groupemont is a small organization of women who share a garden space and help to maintain it, then split the profit of what they make as a result of selling their produce. This is one of the major goals of the agriculture section of PC Senegal- working with women’s groups to enhance gender equality by providing women with the means to create their own income aside from what their husbands allow them and teaching them agriculture and agroforestry techniques to increase yield and sustainability. I watched as women dug zai holes and terraces into the land, and helped a bit despite the heat. Zai holes are small round holes about 20 cm deep that you dig into a slope and plant field crops in such as millet or corn, and you form a berm around the downhill side to catch water when it rains. Most of you are familiar with terraces- flat areas of land built into the side of a hill where you can plant crops. Senegal is not exactly known for its rolling hills and slopesides, but it is a useful technique even in a very minor slope where any water that can be caught should be use effectively. Both the zai holes and the terraces are then amended by digging the crop area and adding composting materials such as green leaves, brown leaves, manure, and charcoal as a carbon source. Sometime in the near future, planting will begin for dry-season gardening. Believe it or not, this concept actually exists- some plants can tolerate a drier climate, and if watered to a certain extent, can be a productive use of time and effort during the dry cool season in December and January into the warmer dry season later in spring. I’ve got some pictures of all of this, but you have to wait until I get back to Kaolack to see. Gotta keep everyone in suspense somehow.

Enough of technical stuff. Want to know how we buy things in Senegal? We go to Loumas! Loumas are open markets that occur weekly in certain villages, and comprise much of the major economic exchange in remote villages where regular markets don’t exist. Aside from a few boutiques scattered throughout larger villages (my village only has 1 because nobody likes us) most people do their shopping and selling on a weekly basis in the market. The major louma near me is in a village called Touba Mouride, and it occurs every Sunday. I have two options for getting there- pay 250 CFA to take an overcrowded car there at 6 am over a horrible road with tons of products to sell strapped to the top and wait at louma until 5 to leave, or bike. The bike ride is about an hour long, but entirely worth the trip, as you can well imagine. The other day, I biked there and met up with my sister Umi and Amy, my neighboring volunteer. Probably spent too much money (because the equivalent of 20 bucks American is a huge deal here) but I came home with some lovely spoils: a giant clay pot to keep water cool at site, materials to build a door for my backyard, extra paint thinner to finish painting my room, margarine, some bananas, and some bread. Yesterday afternoon, Umi and I attempted to finish painting my room- still a little bit short on the paint thinner, so I bought some more today in Toubakouta, but it’s an activity and a welcome break from going to the field. As you can imagine, transporting everything home was an adventure in itself, so the clay pot was strapped to the top of the car that Umi took home, the wood for the door was lashed to the horse charet that my brother took into louma, and I biked home with a backpack full of bread and bananas and not quite enough water. (I learned my lesson, I have more than enough water for today.) Most of my time in market, I found myself missing the malls back home- the food courts there are a far cry from the small tin shack that I got a bowl of rice with a piece of fish in for lunch, and lord knows some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream afterwards from Providence Place would have been lovely, but you learn to live without it.

I know my sister (my real one) has been dying to hear about my “daily routine,” so I will do my best with what semblance of a routine exists in my life. When staying in village, I usually wake up at 7 am- right after the sun comes up, and heat up water to make coffee. I turn on my ipod and sit on my plastic mat in my room and set up everything to make breakfast- usually some bread with some jelly or honey- and chill out while drinking coffee and taking my sweet time to get ready for the day while it is still cool outside. I brush my teeth with a water bottle and put out my solar charger for the day. I will eventually be able to charge everything in the house where there is solar electricity, but I’d prefer not to take advantage all the time. Afterwards, I emerge from my hut around 8 am or so to go greet my family while they are cooking breakfast and sleeping- Umi is still sleeping if she’s not teaching that day, and my mom and taking care of baby Diama. She is my 1-year old younger sister, and I love her probably more than anyone in the village. I then go back to my hut and leave the door open so people can greet me while I do a little bit of work preparing to the plant my garden- I have a small compost pile going and I’ve broken up the soil and constructed some bad-ass handles with eucalyptus branches with a machetti. (Sorry if I’m repeating anything, I don’t have internet right now to check back on my old entries.) When my mom is ready, I go out to the field to help pull up peanuts until noon, then we come back and I take a short bucket bath and rest for a while before lunch. We don’t eat lunch until 3 normally, so I have a small snack and hang out until then. The afternoon really has no rhyme or reason to it. Eventually, I will use it for real work time, but right now I spend a lot of time hanging out with the women, picking peanuts off the plants we brought back to village, having tea, and doing other random tasks (such as painting my room) and needed. We eat dinner around 8 or so- lately we’ve had millet and beans just about every night. It’s not that bad, at least it’s palatable. In some villages, I’m pretty sure it’s difficult to eat whatever was made. On the other hand, some people cook for themselves or are more urban and live with patron families that cook better dinners. I’m in the Peace Corps- I take what I can get.

Speaking of taking what I can get, many of you are wondering what strategies I use to stay sane while living in a remote village with no good electricity, pulling water out of a well, no internet access, difficult transportation and no English. I have a few things that keep me relatively happy. My morning routine is a big part of that- it’s amazing what an hour of having a cup of coffee and listening to familiar American music does for your morale each day. My sister is another big part of that. She gets that it’s difficult to come live away from your home and give up comforts that you are used to, especially when you are educated and can look at the world around you with a more critical eye. I have had many conversations that have ended with “Xamunu dara u aduna…” They don’t know anything about the world. Just hearing that she gets it, even if she doesn’t speak English or has never been out of Senegal, is a huge help. I can tell her whatever, and she doesn’t judge. She knows what skype is and has relatives in the States, France and Italy, so she understands a bit more about where I’m coming from. It’s also nice that I can put on a Goo Goo Dolls song and she will have actually heard it before, which is more than I can say about Senegalese music before I came here. Talking to people in the states (echem thanks Tim) and writing letters home makes a huge difference too. I really do love sharing my experiences with people, hence this blog, and hearing what is going on back home. Just knowing that someone had a difficult day at work or that the Patriots won or lost makes me feel a bit more connected to my life back home. Things like today, biking into Toubakouta for the day, make a big difference as well- like I started this entry with, a bean sandwich and a good English conversation makes a world of difference. Feel free to call me any time you like, you might be lucky and I’ll have reception and we can talk about your life. I don’t judge. And before I ramble for another few pages, I’ll leave it here for today. Probably will update again when I get to Sokone for my mail and language seminar in a week or two. More about that then.

Mucho Senegalese Amour,

~E