AHHHH PROJECTS!

In an effort to keep relatively up to date with my blog, here is the next entry in my somewhat weekly escapade to document my life. Granted, lots has been happening that may very well define my work for the next few months of my existence here.

Recently, I was approached by Aissatu, one of the four leaders of the women’s group. (Ironically, 3 of the 4 women are named Aissatu. This was the one I am closest with, Aissatu Diop.) She requested that I help the group by finding financing and enclosing the garden with barbed wire. This is not the easiest of tasks, as the area to be fenced in is a 2-hectare plot of land (for those of us stuck in the western world, that’s about 5 acres, or 4.94 according to the handy-dandy converter on my phone. I guess little old-school Nokias are good for something. But I digress.) The project would require at least 100 thousand CFA of financing, which converts to roughly 200 dollars, not an easy sum to come by in the village. The project is very much possible, and similar projects are carried out all the time, but I had to air two main concerns, namely 1: they still need to come up with a 25% community contribution, which might be a challenge due to the fact that they can barely come up with their contributions towards seeds for this year and 2: I am sick of going out to work in the women’s garden and having most of these women peace out early to go cook lunch/lay down/take care of someone’s kid/whatever their excuse may be. Why should I work my butt off for a group of people who don’t quite seem to understand the importance of what they are doing? So despite all roadblocks, I started talking with my chief of village and my APCD in Dakar to see what we can do, and whether this will turn into a giant headache remains to be seen.

Another grant-funded project seemed to just appear at roughly the same time, this time to do with douches, or compound latrines. These would be similar to mine, if you’ve seen pictures of it that are buried somewhere in those album off to your right on the screen, but the village would complete one for every compound. This is also a significantly costly project and we are still working out the logistics of it, but if my original plan to hit up a lovely little organization called appropriate projects (google it- www.appropriateprojects.org) falls through, I may be hitting you all up for money in the near future. Unlike my reservations about the women’s garden, I actually am pretty determined to see this through, because you have no idea what its like to walk out to the field every day and pass by a group of children out on a compost pile behind their compounds with their pants down and pooping their little hearts out in public. The kicker is when they get all excited to see me and try to scream and wave and greet me in the middle of this rather awkward occurrence.

All while this is happening, I finally decided that I must paint a world map in my school before my close of service, and what better time to do it than when I am starting two other major projects? Makes perfect sense, right? After my exasperation with the school garden grant, the two new ones I plan to write and never wanting to write a project abstract again, I have decided to suck it up and just pay it. It’s not really all that expensive, and it’s a damn good way to get me out of my hut and away from screaming children for a few afternoons while I go grid out and outline a world map in pencil in my ecole primaire and listen to some good music. Sometime in the next month, I’ll invite a group of other volunteers over to my site, buy some paint and paintbrushes, cook up a good bowl of yassa ginard which for you non-wolof speakers is rice with chicken and onion sauce, and we’ll bring this thing to life. At least then finally most people in the village will be able to point to their own country on a map, especially after I reward them with candy for doing so.

In the meanwhile I’m still working in my garden every morning, watering my beautiful little guava and orange saplings, and damnit if I don’t get some good looking carrots and tomatoes by the end of this gardening season. It’s also pretty good therapy sitting in a garden each morning and writing in your journal. I suggest you try it sometime. And on that note, I leave you until next Sunday. Inchallah.

~E

About this whole blog thing

So it’s been a while, as you can see. I owe an apology to anyone who still reads this blog at all, but in my defense, I did go on vacation for a while. Since my last entry, I have come back to site, left site, gone to America over the holidays, come back to country, attended our all-volunteer conference in Thies, gone to the West African Invitational Softball Tournament in Dakar, and returned to site. So, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind, as you can imagine. I actually find myself enjoying the quiet downtime to get my life back in order that I have here at site. As it stands, I have 8 months or so left in my service, and I intend to make the best of it, whatever that may mean. But first, let’s back up a bit.

Back in December, I had a couple week period at site right before I went on vacation during which I was (I think understandably) rather annoyed and irritable at the world. I was, after all, about to return to my home, friends, family, boyfriend, etc. A couple of things occurred that are rather normal in Senegalese culture, but at the time irked me very much.

For instance, as I was working to get the school garden pepinieres in the ground before I left, I was struggling to get in touch with the teachers and outline the terms of the grant: I bought the tools, and they have to choose and buy the seeds. I like to be present when we actually seed the pepineres so I have an idea of what is going on, and for my school garden in Saloum Diane I set the date well ahead of time so that my counterparts would be ready. On the day we were supposed to seed, I got there and found that nobody really had any idea that the seedbeds were supposed to be made on that day and my main work partner had traveled to Sokone and was unreachable by cellphone. I was pretty flustered by the whole situation, not only because I just wanted to get it done and leave to go on vacation, but also because these sorts of things happen all the time in this culture.

A similar situation occurred right around that time in which a work partner of mine from Dakar showed up in the village to check out the project he has going on here. I can’t remember if I wrote about this a year ago, but there had been this big NGO collaboration that wanted to put in a massive tree nursery in my village, and it included partners in both Scotland and the US which I would liked very much to have talked to. After all, I will be back in that glorious country in less than a year, and it can’t hurt to have some high-up contacts there that have actually seen me at work in the village doing many of the same tasks and monitoring in the same way that they do. I called more than once to confirm the time and date that they were planning on coming, and my Senegalese work partner told me a certain day in the afternoon. That morning, I went to the garden to water my nurseries there, and just as I was returning to the village I saw the cars of all the American and Scottish partners driving away to another village. That was the only opportunity I had to meet with those people, and I got very upset with the Senegalese work partner who had told me the wrong information. I asked why he hadn’t called me to let me know he was coming earlier than expected, and he basically just told me that he forgot.

It’s really upsetting when you miss out on a such a large opportunity because of a small cultural flaw- timing in this country means nothing. Scheduling and appointments hold no real value whatsoever, and in both of these cases just a phone call to inform that a time or date had been changed would be sufficient. I left to go on vacation with a bad feeling about this culture- why should I bother to help them out and stress myself out over being on time for anything here if they never bother to show the same respect? It’s hard to get across the point that most developed country value schedules, but even if I do manage to explain that to a couple of people, a single American Peace Corps Volunteer really doesn’t have the power to invoke a major cultural behavioral change. Such is life, I guess.

Anyway, enough of that rant. AMERICA! Because that’s what you’re all wondering about, right? It’s a beautiful country, especially after having been in Senegal for 16 months. I went skiing and snowshoeing with the family, went on many walks and ate lots of delicious American cuisine, and apart from a few hiccups involving illness (I actually spent most of New Years in the ER) I’d say I had a very successful trip home. Being there was like walking through this weird dream-world where everything is like you remember it except the way you relate to almost every other person in your life. Also, everything looks amazingly clean, like someone just came down with a giant duster and made everything spic and span.
I spent the last week or so there buying supplies for the village and for myself; much of the weight I carried back to Senegal consisted of granola bars and dried fruit from Costco, which is a little like Peace Corps heaven in bulk. I also lugged about 80 dollars worth of cheap school supplies to be distributed between the 3 schools I work closely with, which was slightly ironic when I got back and found out that all the teachers in the country are on strike. It will all be used eventually though.

Immediately after touching down, my friend Clint and I had to find our way back to the training center in Thies and get our two very jet-lagged selves ready for the all-volunteer conference, and I immediately had to present to a group of Assistant Peace Corps Directors and the Country Director what is going on in my work zone, for which I am responsible. Somehow I made it through, and spent the next couple of days trying not to doze off in sessions and grabbing 10-minute naps on random benches wherever I could.
Finally, we all went to Dakar for WAIST, which I wrote about last year, and I don’t have much more to say other than it was a couple of days of reconnecting with friends, spending too much money on food, readjusting to this country and destroying my liver. But you know, that’s what growing up is for I guess.

At any rate, I’m back in village now, enjoying the cool breezes of January that you get for a couple of weeks before the hot season sets in. I’m actually pretty well bundled up at night because it gets colder than you’d expect for the desert. Pape keeps complaining about the cold and the wind, but I just respond how much I like it and making fun of him for complaining. At least let me have my fun for a few weeks, and the hot season will be here before we all know it.

I’ll do my best to update more regularly, because I know how fast these next 8 months will go by. It’s not exactly the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but the train is definitely on that track. Email me with any questions you’ve got, and I’ll respond as soon as I can.

Until next time

~E