Zack’s Letters Home – Page 4

04-18-07

Hello everyone!

Well I’m  in town for the Agfo Summit which is a meeting of all the Agfo volunteers in country to discuss project ideas, allow the 2nd year volunteers to share experience with us new guys, discuss changes for the Agfo program over all, and most importantly to have a chance to see people from other regions and socialize a bit. Its been nice to see everyone in our sector, but whenever you get a large group together its hard to work out all the details, beds, food, activities. We were able to exchange seeds which was nice, there are a lot of varieties that only grow naturally in certain areas.

I have gotten the materials together to start my backyard tree nursery which I’m looking forward to doing.I plan to do around 100 trees of different varieties. Flamboyant for shade and beautification, M. Oleifera and Leuceana for high protein leaves for both human and livestock consumption, cashews and mangoes for food and shade, and cecil for live fencing. We’ll see what grows and what the villagers want to do. So far I haven’t lined up anyone else to work with doing tree nurseries other than the folks in my compound. It seems kind of harsh, but if no one expresses an interest in doing the work for the benefit then I don’t feel too bad not working with them. Ultimately, while I want to help, it doesn’t matter to me if they make no effort o improve their situation because I can always go back to the States. I’m hoping that seeing my trees this year will inspire folks to get motivated for this season and especially for next season. We’ll see.

On a more entertaining note I had two American students who are doing a study abroad program through one of the universities in Dakar come stay for 4 days in my village. I had one boy and one girl staying with me and my host family absolutely loved them both. It was fantastic for me because these kids did all the things that I am unwilling to do like bring lots of money, hand out lots of presents, go everywhere the kids want to go, and do everything the adults wantred them to do. Its always a little hard not being the coolest kid in town when two new people come in, but it took a lot of pressure off of me for entertainment of the masses. I was tempted to lecture the kids on what kind of example they were setting (foreigners come in with lots of money and material things that don’t actually help) and to lecture the family about the differences in the students situation (only having to spend 4 days in the village, then back to Dakar and then back to the U.S. in a month) and how those realities make it a lot easier to be flashy and enthusiastic and endlessly generous (because you know you get to leave soon! Who cares about the consequences!) But I kept my mouth shut on both accounts. The students got what they wanted (an idealized and abrigded view of life in an African village) and the villagers got what they really wanted (some entertainment and a little extra stuff and a skewed view of Americans) and who am I to ruin that for anyone? After all, eventually I get to go back to America too!

I truly feel that the main things hindering Senegal is the Senegalese, and that mainly due to a terrible (but access able) education system. The teachers here are always on strike because in theory 40% of Senegal’s budget is supposed to go to education, but that is clearly not what happens. Further complicating things is the fact that the teachers get paid even when they are on strike, so why work if you are getting paid either way? (brilliant!) Regardless of who is at fault, the kids are missing out. This school year will likely be another “anné blanche” or blank year where no one in the country was able to attend enough classes to advance to the next grade because of the number of days the teachers were on strike.

Anyway, for my part I’m trying to help the kids in my village with basic education, reading, writing, math… which is humbling for me, but is also a huge pain in the ass. The reason its a pain is that every Senegalese person of any age already knows EVERYTHING! Its truly amazing! (sarcasm) I have brought National Geo’s for the kids to look at and funny enough they have had to teach me many things. For instance I’ve learned that bears are dogs, harbor seals are buckets because the English word “seal” sounds a lot like the Pulaar word “siwo” which means bucket, that boats are cars, and finally that Costa Rica is in fact located in Europe. The article on the tribal peoples in Tanzania was both interesting and informative, apparently according to the kids in my village barring the rich cultural heritage of Tanzania, people from Tanzania “are not pretty.” Hmmm…

The most interesting thing in a National Geographic magazine to a young African villager is not the photos depicting the rest of the world, but actually the Jeep Grand Cherokee SUV, a fine machine no doubt.

I did have a good teaching opportunity just before I came in this week. The 5yr old in my compound Tijonny like to hop on to the backs of moving bicycles, a habit I try to break him of because its dangerous (which is meaningless in a place where that same 5yr old also plays with fire and runs not with scissors… but machetes). Needless to say he got hurt hopping on the back of the bike his older brother was riding. He scraped most of the skin off his ankle and it was pretty gruesome when I saw it. My host mom and his mom wanted to rub antiseptic (good thing) and then cooking oil (not so good) on the wound. I got them to clean it out real well with bleached water and antiseptic soap and then bandaged it for him to keep some of the dirt out. All week he had hung all over the two students, they were much more interesting and entertaining after all. But that last night before we left he came over and layed next to me on the mats and fell asleep with his arm over my chest. So cute I almost don’t want to admit it!

Take care all!

Zack

05-31-07, “RAIN”

“Well hello there, my it’s been a long long time…” Willie Nelson, Funny How Time Slips Away

Oh I’m in a pretty good mood, I’m heading to St. Louis in the north of the country for “Jazz Fest” for a week so I’m getting q little vacation. I’ll leave tomorrow morning at 3am to take a station wagon full of 5 random Senegalese strangers and one fellow volunteer on a hellish bumpy high speed careening several hour ride to the filthy capital of this filthy country! God I can’t wait! There is good food (Senegal good) and good beer (again Senegal good) and even a western style grocery store! No white rice and leaf sauce for me for over a week!

Apparently St. Louis is gorgeous, its the former capital of Senegal (I think) and is certainly a haven for French tourists wishing to rough it, but not really rough it in Africa. We’ll see. I have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t take much to impress me.

The new volunteers from the spring stage have been installed in their villages. The fall stage (my stage) is comprised of Ag., Agfo., S.E.D.(small enterprise development), and EcoTourism, while the spring stage is always urban ag., health, and env. ed. There is a new girl relatively close to my site. She is a health volunteer and her village is about 14k into the woods from Dabo which is a large-ish village about 14k to the east of my village on the main road.

I came in to Kolda when they came down just after their swear-in and the current Kolda volunteers welcomed them and helped them buy supplies for the village, beds, mats, propane burners. We cooked dinner and drank beer like good Americans and tried to set their minds at ease about the upcoming install. I remember asking all the questions they asked, being worried about getting ripped off, getting frustrated with the volunteers helping me buy stuff because they didn’t really know for sure what the good prices were and didn’t seem to care too much, not being able to converse comfortably in the language.

Now I’m the volunteer who isn’t much help (because it really doesn’t matter that much, you will get ripped off, and still have more money than you can spend) and I’m no longer worried about understanding what people are saying, because I’ve heard the stupid jokes, racial slurs, and pointless questions enough to not give a damn what most people are saying. Now people have precisely five seconds to demonstrate to me that they have something worth my attention and then I walk off. Forget cultural sensitivity, I’m culturally sensitive to those who earn it by demonstrating a basic politeness, and those are usually the little old women who everyone else treats like crap and the littlest talibes (beggar children) who haven’t been begging long enough to pick up the ignorance of their countrymen. (Sorry I digress to self righteous criticism)

I went on Saturday to Kirsten’s village. Its a tough ride out to her village. Its a bumpy dirt path with lots of deep sand and gullies from where last years rains washed out the road. She had only been at her new village for 3 days, but I remembered what those first few days were like. She was very glad to see me because already her counterpart had attached himself to her in the most overbearing way. I expected this because when a villager is a counterpart for the first time there is a lot of pressure they put on themselves to do a good job. They go to the big city of Thiès up in the real Senegal (down here they don’t really think of themselves as being truly a part of Senegal) and they have sessions with the educated official Peace Corps people and all the other counterparts (their peers and countrymen and women) and get lectures on their responsibilities to their communities and their volunteers. And there is community pressure, in particular there was a dispute as to who would be Kirsten’s counterpart, either the educated guy who worked at the health center in her village or the more obnoxious guy who lives in her compound. The obnoxious guy apparently won out.

Anyhow, I got there early in the morning and she and I detached Mamma from her hip and we rode to the weekly market in Temento which is 2k outside of Dabo which is 12k from her village. The market is always crazy. Packed with people crammed under log and grass shade structures selling all sorts of disgusting and useless stuff; uncovered vats of dark red palm oil, the butcher who will kindly sell you a little meat with your entrails, all the most cheaply manufactured tools you could never have any use for in the village, clothing vendors where you can pick up your imitation French national soccer team jersey with roosters all over it or a pair of jeans with a tiny picture of EMINEM superimposed over a huge picture of Fitty Cent point a gun at you (tres chic). The only thing I really enjoy is the Bissap juice which they freeze and bring to the lumo. They sell it in small plastic bags (which is how they sell everything here, in ten years there will be a 2 foot layer of plastic bags over the entire country… and I’ll laugh…). Its a little awkward at first to bite a hole in a plastic bag filled with liquid and not spill all over yourself but its easier than I expected.

After the lumo we went to my friend Adam’s village, he’s in my stage and in my work sector. He was gone on a little vacation to Italy with his parents and his little sister, but his counterpart was there and nice enough to feed us and let us wait out the heat of the day before we went back.

We left around 5pm to head back to her village, and I decided to make the ride one more time because she was unsure on the way back, its a long tough ride, and with everyone heading back from the lumo there were lots of obnoxious men on that road. We got to about half way and then something strange happened. I felt a drop or two of water on my arm. I hate to say this but my first reaction was that one of the kids near by had done something rude to me (which is what it was the last time I felt random drops of liquid land on me). Then I started to hear a strange patter around me, it was vaguely familiar. I looked up, starting to narrow down the possibilities, and there were a few clouds but I could also see lots of blue sky, but then a bit more started falling and the only possible conclusion was that it was raining! I hadn’t seen rain since last September! The rain wasn’t supposed to start for another 2 weeks, and since they’ve been in a long drought in general there are many years that the rains are late and not early. It quickly stopped and I thought for sure it was just a fluke, so we rode on. I rode almost all the way to her village but realized after the last turn that it was getting really late and I had a long way to go to get home, so we said our goodbyes.

By the time I had gotten to the road it was full on night. The clouds has covered the whole sky blocking out the sliver of moon and the starlight which are usually enough to see by when I’m not on the road trying to avoid pedestrians and traffic. I couldn’t see a thing. Funny enough its really hard to see an African person at night. I went slowly and kept to the middle of the road, knowing how much the Senegalese like to walk in the street bur knowing that it was my fault for being on the road so late without a flashlight, I would have hated to hit someone. I could here large groups of boys riding fast towards me but couldn’t see them, (even as they passed by) but I could feel the wind they made as they passed.

Occasionally a car would come from behind and light my way for a while till I felt I should pull over and make sure it didn’t hit me. I still haven’t scratched “don’t die in Africa” off my to do list yet so I was trying to be as careful as I could in a dumb situation that was my fault and was threatening to keep me from accomplishing that goal. I finally got to the turn off into the woods leading to my village and walked my bike the rest of the way by cellphone display light (the ever so bright black background with yellow text). I’ve been down that path so many times that I could feel along well enough. Man I was exhausted! I spluttered a pretty steady stream of profanities the whole way.

I got to the hut and my family had kindly left a full bucket of water for me to shower with. It was about 9pm and the wind was picking up and thunder was starting. I still didn’t think much of it because I’d been seeing the lightning from the storms further south for a few weeks. I went into my backyard to shower and saw part of my fence had blown over… more profanities. Plastic cable ties have been my savior here on numerous occasions like this.

Finally I got to sit down on my plastic wash tub, pull up my bucket of cold well water and start splashing water on my hot dusty face. As I started I began to feel even colder drops on my head and back and for a second I was angry, just one more inconvenience in a day full of them. But then I realized how amazing it was that it was raining and I also realized that I was already showering so who cares if I get more wet! It was wonderful to shower in the rain. Everyone was running around out front, they kept yelling to me but I just ignored them and enjoyed myself.

When I had finished I moved the sack of cement into my hut and put buckets out to catch the rain leaking through my roof. My counterpart came in and I got to eat dinner in my room by myself which was nice. They had thought I wasn’t coming home because it was so late, so they didn’t save too much for me to eat, but I wasn’t too disappointed that they didn’t save me any of the entrails that they had cooked. I’ve eaten enough entrails in my time here already. So I ate some oily rice and later I ate some of the tuna that folks have kindly sent me! It was delicious and I had no fears about eating it. That’s a nice feeling to not be suspicious of your food.

Well, that’s all for now, I’ll write more soon and I hope everyone is doing well!

Zack