Volver

This is my first post since March that was written in the United States.  Yes, I'm home in Richmond for 12 days to celebrate Christmas with my family and enjoy all of the riches that America has to offer.  There are a lot of feelings and things to discuss, so I'm just going to start writing and see where it takes me.

You know that feeling when you're thinking about what you want to eat and you just can't decide, but then, you come up with the perfect thing.  You think, "Yes! That's exactly what I want."  Then, you make it and eat it and you say to yourself, "That was it.  That really hit the spot."  Well, I feel that way towards every single food in the USA right now.  It's a constant feeling of "that's just what I was looking for".  The other day, I did the Costco free sample relay and I felt like Jim Carrey in Yes Man.  At first, I just wanted to say yes to everything to see what wonderful things would come my way.  At a certain point, however, I realized that I couldn't have said no even if I wanted to.  I didn't necessarily miss all of this food when I was in Senegal nor did I love it or eat it often when I was here last.  It's just like I'm trying everything for the first time again and the novelty of it all just seems to make everything more desirable.

One thing that I knew that I really missed was the cold.  I've always been a cold weather person.  Back in high school, I used to look at the weather every morning and I would only decide to wear long pants once it dropped below 40 degrees.  Walking out of the airport in Washington, I took my first deep breath of American air in over 9 months.  As I exhaled, I saw that cloud of condensation form in front of me and I couldn't help but smile.  Seeing my breath recalled so many memories for me.  It brings me back to so many places, so many times.  It's amazing how something so simple can be so interconnected between different areas of my memory, but it's one of the simple pleasures from America that I missed.  Just standing outside breathing the cold air and watching your breath appear and fade away.  I often just let my mind go blank when I do that.  I just focus on feeling the cold air in my lungs when I inhale.  I watch the cloud as it forms, expands, and rises because clouds, like snowflakes, are never exactly alike.  I see it as it dissipates back into the air from which I drew the original breath.  Then, the cycle happens all over again.  That's life, I suppose.

I'm also amazed by how quickly I fell back into old habits.  The last 9 months of my life almost feel like a dream.  I'm back exactly where I was just as if I had taken a long sleep instead of traveling to another continent and back.  I don't feel different, things don't look different.  I don't know if I expected things to be different, but it's just weird to have gone through so much in the past 9 months then almost go back in time to before I was ever in Senegal.  Come to think of it, I also don't have a phone or a car, have no friends in town, and eat all day.  Am I 13 again?  Did I go back too far?  Oh well.

Anyway, I'm only a couple days into my vacation, so I'll save a few thoughts and observations for my next post when my vacation will be over.  Happy Holidays to everybody, especially those of you celebrating in Senegal. 

Jeremiah Johnson

This post is going to be a very long, detailed work update. It's been a while since I talked in depth about work, so I'm going to give you a little description of each of my current activities so you can start to get an idea of what I'm doing over here on a daily basis. Hopefully, it won't be too long and you can get to the end because there's some fun stuff down there.

Guediawaye

The women in Guediawaye had such promise at the start. They were attentive and even added to the lessons with their own creativity. They had the focus and foresight to finish a business plan before I even taught them how to make their product. After the first production, they were disappointed that the soap didn't come out the way they wanted, but eager to try it again and tweak the recipe. The most recent time I made the trip, though, they couldn't tell me a single thing they had done at work over the past 2 weeks. I was supposed to look at a new batch of soap and critique their accounting practices. Instead, I traveled 2 and a half hours for them to tell me that they had done no work. Now, they're students and I know that, when I was a student, it was my first priority. They're in a period of exams, so I can see why they wouldn't want to work. The reason I'm still upset is that I brought up this very problem three weeks ago. They told me school work was going to pick back up and I asked them if they wanted to take a break. They assured me that they could handle both and I just reiterated that they would have to plan out their time in advance in order to manage both school and work. This type of detailed scheduling is a foreign concept to most senegalese and it looks like they took none of it to heart. Despite them not taking my advice, I can forgive them for that as I hope they will have learned their lesson. What is more difficult to forgive is what happened next. So, they told me that they had done no work, but I was there already and wanted to do something productive. I had also been giving them some private English lessons after we finish our stuff for the business. I had a passage prepared that day, so I figured I could at least teach some English before returning home. I passed out the sheets and proceeded to try to lead the small group (only 5 women today) to read the passage and discuss the meaning and vocabulary. They would barely look at the page and seemed completely disinterested. These are free, private English lessons from a native speaker in a suburb of Dakar. Many, many people would beg for such an opportunity, yet here they were, throwing it away. I wrapped up class early and said that I would not come back until after my vacation, which would mean we would take the entire month of December off. I came home and attempted to call my family and talk with them over their Thanksgiving meal to improve my mood, but the internet seemed intent on not letting me do that either. I passed up a Thanksgiving potluck at the US ambassador to Dakar's residence on Thanksgiving day for all of this. Terrible.

School Garden

The garden is at an early enough stage that it hasn't had a chance to really get messed up yet. The grant proposal is submitted and I've selected the spaces we're going to grow moringa and the school director has selected the vegetables she wants to grow in the table beds. We've determined that the produce will be sold in order to pay for next season's operating costs and that educational opportunities in terms of plant biology and container gardening will be offered. The school director has failed to repair the broken tables thus far and, thusly, hasn't held up her end of the deal, but I don't really care about that as long as she properly cares for the garden. That's all the mandatory community contribution is designed to do anyway; make sure the community adequately cares for the project. Fortunately, I have a long time left here, so I can monitor the garden personally and make sure that happens. In any case, I'll hopefully have seeds in the ground by the time I come home for Christmas and we'll see how things go from there.

ELI

I've been volunteering once or twice a week at a place called the English Language Institute (ELI). It was originally a branch of Suffolk University designed to act as a bridge to help African students transition to the new expectations and culture of American schools. When that experiment failed, the members of the English department formed their own group and now cater to students, professionals, and businesses alike, providing high quality English education for school or the workplace as well as TOEFL preparation. Whenever I go there, I work with the teacher and they either give me a block of time in their lesson plan or work me into their lesson plan to, not only give their students a chance to interact with a native speaker, but also to hear about American culture and views. It's not the typical Peace Corps target market as a lot of the customers are fairly wealthy, but I enjoy the work and it's a good group of people, so I'll continue to devote a few hours each week to ELI.

Baker

I've mentioned the artisanal baker here before, so I don't need to introduce the team in detail here. It's a man and his neice and I really enjoy their breads and think that they're really dedicated, hard-working, and organized(!!!). They're a pretty professionalized business already, so again, they aren't really in the prototypical Peace Corps target , but I like to think of them as being one level up from that on the supply chain as they buy from local grain producers that Peace Corps Volunteers would potentially work with. They're a business that uses almost exclusively local ingredients and I think helping a business like that is helping many Senegalese producers along the supply chain. Anyway, I recently got them into an exposition at the US Embassy that allowed them to showcase their breads to embassy workers. There's no clear plan on what I can do for them after that, but I'm always on the lookout and always available to help them if something comes up.

Grand Yoff Women

The “Grand Yoff Women” were the ones that the previous volunteer worked a lot with and, technically, my primary work partner here in Dakar. Due to some major communication breakdowns, however, I've barely seen them over my first 6 months here and have only recently gotten back in touch with them and cleared the air. If you remember, I expressed confusion about their work schedule which was one of the major reasons why I wasn't able to meet up with them as much as I would have liked. It turns out that they expected me to call once or twice a week to see if they were working instead of them calling me whenever they were working. They were upset for a moment, but I've seen them several times over the last 2 weeks and brought them up to speed on everything the previous volunteer left me and we're talking about solar drying now, so I think that I'll look at that period as a minor hiccup when I get to the end of my service.

Other

I have a couple more things that are just on the back burner waiting for somebody to get back to me. If either of these projects were my primary focus, I would have followed up ages ago, but I simply don't have the time to handle everything. In any case, there are two that I will follow up with eventually, but that I'm not actually doing any work on right now. The first is the chicken raiser/copy shop/money transfer lady that I've mentioned before. After getting stood up in the middle of nowhere, she claimed to be very sick and I told her to call me back when she was feeling better so we can reschedule. It's been a couple weeks now with no response, so I'm not sure how she's doing. There was a time when I wanted to try to place one of the next group of CED volunteers in that region so he/she could work, at least in part, with this lady, but it seems to be too late now.

The other project that is on hold that I'm going to follow up on is the entrepreneurship and accounting classes at the youth prison. I spent a decent amount of time on that proposal, so I'd at least like to know why things have slowed to a halt. Chances are it has nothing to do with me. Anyway, it's an interesting option, so I'll follow up on that as well probably after vacation.

In addition to those two projects on hold, I often get invitations to various events being held in the city such as a Korean cultural day coming up or the International Day of the Volunteer on the 5^th. Sometimes, I'm simply invited and sometimes I'm expected to attend to represent either Peace Corps or the CED program. These events don't happen every week (although I have 2 of them this week), but they are a part of my schedule that's fairly unique to being a Dakar volunteer.

Frisbee

I'm not afraid to admit that this activity is my pride and joy. It's not a 1^st goal, or a 2^nd goal, or even a 3^rd goal activity in terms of Peace Corps, but it's a personal 1^st goal activity because it makes me happy. Every Sunday, I go over to a nice grassy field on the western coast of the peninsula and play ultimate with a group of mostly Americans from either the Embassy or the American school. Beforehand, I always go out to lunch and get food that I don't get to eat at home. This could be American, Italian, or even Lebanese food whatever I'm feeling that day. I also sometimes go to some of the scenic areas of Dakar, some of which I've shown you in previous posts, and just sit there for a while. It's a Sunday tradition for me here and it really helps me get through the week knowing that another game of ultimate is waiting for me at the end of it.

Home Improvement

Breaking news on the home front. Several months ago, I gave you a tour of my home here and pointed out one particularly menacing set of spiraling metal stairs. In case you've forgotten, you can see the picture again here.. I said that my host father promised me that plans were in the works to remove them and replace them with something slightly less likely to maim me. Well, last weekend, it began. THE STAIRS ARE GONE!!!! O joyous day!!! There are major home repairs going on upstairs and for the first few days they didn't touch the stairs. I was worried that they were going to be overlooked, but behold!!!. That last bit was removed as well and they're currently putting a ceiling where the stairs were. I suppose this means I'll have to leave the apartment and use the general stairs, but still no more fearing for my life as I take that first long lunge over that unforgiving metal deathtrap. No more worrying that I'm going to trip and fall into the massive hole in the floor. I'm so relieved that my rent money has been put to good use. This truly is a joyous day.

Ok, so this post turned into a very long one, so I'll have to wait to show you the next set of photos in my “Eric's favorite spots in Dakar” album. Instead, I'll just post a little teaser. So, the next spot I'm going to show you is just around this corner. In my next post, I'll tell you where this is and give you more pictures to look at. Thanks for reading.

Inch'Allah Sunday

I had a dream the other night. I typically don't remember my dreams, but I remember this one pretty well. That might be because I woke up at 6:30 that morning; a half hour before my alarm. I'm waking up earlier and earlier these days.... Anyway, about the dream. It almost certainly takes place in America. The type of quiet neighborhood we're walking through only exists there. Evenly spaced out two story houses, each with its own driveway and little patch of land. There's at least one person here beside me, but I think there were two more walking shortly behind us as well. Based on how we're dressed, I'd say it's a cool fall day. Certainly not summer, but also not so cold that we couldn't go for a walk. As we're walking, I'm in a very casual conversation with the person next to me. I obviously knew the person quite well, but I don't remember who it was in particular. In any case, we're talking candidly about a common interest: basketball. We talk about the newly opened NBA season for a spell and eventually reach our destination. When I first woke up, I believed it to be a church. The large entrance and decorative carvings around the frame of the door resembled the type of old architecture you might find at a church. I didn't get a chance to look inside, but it felt like we were stepping into a solemn occasion. I've thought about the dream for a few minutes now and I don't think that building was supposed to be a church since I have had little exposure to one recently and it would hold little personal meaning to me. Instead, I think it was supposed to be a lodge; more specifically, a Masonic lodge. As an aside, for those of you who have only come to know me over the past two years or, potentially, those who do not know me at all, I spent a lot of time at Masonic lodges throughout high school not as a Mason, but as a member of the branch or their organization targeted at youth called DeMolay. The lodge is where I met some of my closest friends and was a major player in my development from an adolescent to an adult. Anyway, these are some of the things I'm missing about America right now. Casual conversations, the quiet neighborhoods, meetings among close friends, the familiarity of it all. Who would have guessed that I would come to Senegal and miss the quieter, slower pace of American life?


On to one of the more infuriating experiences I've had thus far in my service. As some of you may not know, my “territory” (i.e. the area in which I am the closest Peace Corps volunteer in my program) covers a fairly large chunk of land and nearly a quarter of the Senegalese population. I've tried not to preclude myself from working with people simply because of distance, so, every now and again, I find myself having to commute for a couple hours to be able to work with a certain group or individual. These trips typically take up my whole day due to the distance I have to travel and are often set up about a week in advance in order for both parties to ensure their schedules are clear. To this point, I've had no problems doing this besides spending 4+ hours of my day on a bus that is often standing room only. This day was different. I got to my destination (Zac Mbao if any of you are curious and want to google map how far I actually travel) at about 11am to meet the chicken/money transfer/paper store lady that I've mentioned in a previous post. We hadn't set up a time, but I had been to see this individual enough times that we both knew the drill. I hadn't discussed a time with her the previous couple times I came out and had no problem. I arrive at her store to find it closed and locked. Curious, I knock on the door of her house and find it unlocked and open. This is a very bad sign and potentially the beginning of a horror movie in America. It means absolutely nothing in Senegal. I ask the old woman watching TV where my friend had gone and she says she had just stepped out and would be back soon. Satisfied, I find a patch of shade, sit down, and start organizing my schedule for the upcoming week. After about 20 minutes, a man walks by and asks who I'm waiting for. I explain the situation including that my friend lost her phone and that's why I couldn't call her to see where she was. He says he will call her for me. I'm slightly confused that my friend had neglected to tell me that she got a new phone, but am otherwise unfazed. He gets off the phone and gives me the news: she's out for the day, won't be back until late that evening. At this point, I'm not sure if she was ever planning on telling me she wasn't coming or if she was just going to let me wait there indefinitely. I thank the man and wait until I'm a safe distance away before becoming furious and unleashing a tirade of hate at the imaginary ghost of my friend in front of me. Holy cow, I was angry, not just because I had just wasted over 2 hours to wait by a closed shop for 20 minutes, but also because I was going to have to spend another 2 hours to get home. Keep in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that these are not a quiet, pleasant 2 hours. These are 2 hours of stop and go traffic, horns blaring for no apparent reason, and standing room only with 60 of your closest friends in a bus designed to hold 40. You can't read or write because there's nowhere to sit or hold the paper or notebook. You can try to listen to music, but you'd have to turn it up to an eardrum bleed-inducing level to drown out the rumble of the diesel engine, car horns, crying infants, and street vendors. Also, if you have loud music in your ears on a crowded bus, you might as well paint a target on your shirt because you're just asking to be pickpocketed. That's not a Senegal thing, either. Just a big city thing. You basically just have to grin and bear it and stand there watching the world go by.... slowly.... for 2 hours. And that is why I found myself wanting a drink of something strong enough to disinfect wounds at 11:30 that morning.


Despite that horror story, things are moving right along. I'm making some good progress on some fronts that I'll detail next time and am really starting to learn about the nuts and bolts of the work (i.e. planning projects, monitoring, evaluating, etc.) I'm thinking that by this time next year, I might just be able to get the hang of this whole thing. Then again, I'll also be less than 6 months from the end of my service at this time next year. Such is Peace Corps. Such is life.

Porco Rosso

I've been at site for nearly 6 months now.  That's about a quarter of my service done.... does that even mean anything anymore?  At a certain point, I feel like I should stop counting the days that I've been here or the days I have left.  It's an exercise that takes me out of the present tricking me into thinking that I don't live in Senegal.  I've been here a while and I'll be here a while longer.  I think that's as much detail as it is necessary to get into.

Anyway, I've been quite unproductive from a work standpoint since the beginning of the month.  That's partially due to me postponing phone calls and e-mails, but it's also partially due to holidays, seminars, and people not getting back to me.  I try not to beat myself up when I don't have anything work-related to do on a particular day.... or for several days in a row.  I know that I'm trying.  Instead of trying to force things, I focus on other tasks like exercising, reading, fantasy sports, or 3rd goal stuff (like writing this blog, talking to family, taking pictures of places that I like around Dakar, etc.).  There may be days where I don't make any progress at work, but there are absolutely not days where I make no progress.  As one of my former professors once told me, the key to development is to just start somewhere, do the doable, and persist.  That's all I'm trying to do at this point.

As far as work goes, I'm hoping that I'll be teaching a group how to make soap in a few days.  Unfortunately, I have no idea how to make soap, so I've had to rely on the wisdom of more experienced volunteers.  I'll likely learn as much as them in the process, but I'm getting the rare opportunity to start a business from scratch.  A couple months ago, this group came to me with a little bit of cash in hand and a desire to work.  Now, we're a few weeks away from having a product, organizational structure, and a functional business plan.  I guess the only thing left to do is turn a profit!

Other than that, I wrote and submitted a proposal for a course in entrepreneurship and accounting for detainees at the youth prison.  I'm really not sure where that will go, but it's certainly an interesting opportunity.  The chicken raiser/copy shop/phone credit lady is on the back burner until I can get some help.  She has a field that she wants to start planting crops in, but she needs help planning it which is not my area of expertise.  There are a couple of other smaller things I have going on or ideas floating around in my head that I haven't acted on yet, but those are the basics of my work right now.  Not too exciting, eh?

Before you go, I have a special treat for you.  I took some pictures of a couple more of my favorite spots in Dakar.  Here's a nice shady spot on top of a hill overlooking a secluded beach on the western coast of the peninsula.  I only just recently found this spot, but it's really nice in terms of the view, the temperature, and the lack of other people.  Next, This is a view from the outside of a place called the Place Du Souvenir.  It looks like it should be a major tourist destination and I often see advertisements for art expos taking place there, but it's always a ghost town whenever I go.  There are steps between those two buildings you see that lead down to the ocean.  Here's the view from the bottom of those steps.  This one shows that there was at one point a fountain under that map of Africa and there are posters like these posted all around that give some short descriptions of important figures in Senegalese/African history.  It doesn't appear that that fountain has held water for a while and those posters were dated December 2010.  It seems that at one point, the Place du Souvenir was a vibrant cultural hub, but now it appears to be at least partially abandoned.  Nonetheless, it provides a peaceful atmosphere and a great view of the ocean.

Between the Folds

Another couple of weeks down. I used to cross off every day on my calendar as I completed it.  I guess it was a way to remind myself that time was still moving, that I was moving forward. I stopped doing that a long time ago, though.  It started with me forgetting a day, then a few, then a whole week.  A week ago, I realized I had forgotten to mark off my calendar for several weeks and decided to just stop the process.  The page for the month of September sits empty just as it did on the first of the month.  When the time comes for the calendar to turn to October, I won't cross anything off or have any sort of ceremony.  I'll simply turn the page.

If you haven't seen the documentary that shares a name with the title of this post, I highly suggest it.  It's free in its entirety on Youtube.  It's a documentary primarily about origami and some real world applications of the science and theory that defines origami.  To me, though, it's about more than that.  It's about finding meaning in life and how people can find meaning in amazing or sometimes strange places.  I recall this film because I often think about why I'm here.  What am I looking for in Peace Corps?  What meaning is there for me to find here?  When I was in America, I felt a need to be more connected to the world.  I had been out of the country a few times, but, when I did, it was only for a short time and I was very sheltered, ushered from one event to the next where we talked about culture, but never really took the time to observe it.  I also felt like I was more useful doing work like this rather than taking a job in America selling advertisement space.  Now, while my traveling and learning about the world certainly isn't close to over, I've temporarily satisfied that craving.  I'm experiencing new things every day, which I suppose is one of the core desires that pushed me towards Peace Corps; the desire for variety.  With that craving satisfied, I'm able to focus on other things like what I'm actually trying to do in the short and long term.  I think in the short term, Peace Corps is good for me.  I need to finish out my commitment here.  Failure to do so would be nothing sort of devastating unless it was completely out of my hands (i.e. Ebola spreads further north).  In the long term, I still haven't really figured it out.  I have these ideas of getting an MBA and a Public Policy degree and going into International Development in some capacity, but I don't know what I actually want to do with that.  It just sounds like a logical progression, something a normal person interested in Peace Corps work would do after their service. Is that really what I want to do though?  Riding on the bus in Dakar gives you a lot of time to think and I was trying to pick out what I consider to be the highlights of the past few weeks, months, years.  Times where I felt the happiest.  I noted that while I was satisfied with the work I'm doing in Peace Corps, it hardly helped me sleep at night.  The work to be done is so massive and I'm not one to celebrate small successes.  When I'm working on a project and a small step is made, I turn my focus to the next one and only at the end can I relax.  The problem with this work is that there is no end.  I'm not saying that I won't continue to participate in the development community after Peace Corps.  I just don't know if it's what will give me the peace of mind I need in the long term.  I went back to the drawing board and thought about times when I was at peace.  Happy and zen, if you will.  When I looked at it that way, I realized that I really was the most at peace when I was playing ultimate.  Now, I've always loved sports, so this wasn't a huge surprise to me.  I've always assumed that I was too unathletic to play them at a high level, though.  I thought about working in and took an internship in the business side of sports for a while, but it just didn't feel the same and I ended up dropping that idea for Peace Corps.  I'm beginning to challenge the notion of what my body can and can't do, though.  I believe that you can't get out of your body what you don't first put into it and I haven't ever put a lot of work into my body.  I've stayed active and ate well, you know, enough to stay reasonably healthy, but I've never really pushed myself and my athletic ability.  I had this thought a few days ago, but gave it a little bit of time before I wrote about it just in case it was an adrenaline rush talking or something else like that.  It seems to me that I'm for real this time because for the last few days, I've woken up at 7am and gotten a workout in, something that I've never done consistently before in my life.  I also feel motivation that I haven't felt in a long time.  I hate running.  I absolutely just hate running with no purpose, but now, I want to do it.  I feel like I have to.  This is a change that happened almost overnight.  I'm now extremely motivated to push my body to its limits and play ultimate at the highest level I possibly can because I've realized that ultimate is my origami.  It may not have the same noble ring to it as International Development, but it makes sense to me, leaves me at peace, so that's what I'm going to do until it no longer makes me feel that way.  I'm not sure what that means for my professional prospects after Peace Corps, but I know that for the remainder of my service, I'm going to focus on getting in the best shape I can and become the best ultimate player that I can while still fulfilling my responsibilities.

So, that was the major personal development of the past few weeks.  If it sticks, it is certainly a very major development.  Anyway, on the work side of things, this upcoming week figures to be pretty slow as the major holiday of Tabaski will take place on October 5th.  Tabaski, or Eid al-Adha, celebrates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his first-born son for God.  As Abraham was about to strike, God provided a lamb to sacrifice instead.  Therefore, on this day, Muslims pay homage to this sacrifice by slaughtering a lamb, goat, or ram and giving a sizable portion of the meat to charity.  Here in Senegal, it's the biggest holiday of the year, so not a lot of work will get done for about a week before or a few days after.  There are a few things I can get done in the mean time and a few things I've tabled until I had more free time that I can get started on, but I'll use a decent chunk of this time exercising and recovering.

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  I imagine a lot of volunteers would use that famous phrase to describe their experience.  Maybe it's the malaria medication, but highs feel so much higher here and lows so much lower.  I suppose it's the isolation of it all.  When I got assigned to Dakar, I thought that meant that I would be working closely with staff and other volunteers.  I assumed that I'd see someone from Peace Corps on most days.  In reality, there are weeks, WEEKS, where I interact with only my host country and work partners.  I try to set time aside to talk to my folks at home every weekend, but that doesn't always work out.  Even when it does, it's just not the same.  I hear their voice and see a grainy image of their face on my screen.  We have a conversation and it's always so refreshing, but it's just not the same as seeing someone in person.  In many ways, I  am alone out here in this concrete wilderness.  That must certainly play a lot into the volatility of emotions out here.  When you succeed, there's nobody who you have to share credit with and, when you fail, there's nobody else to blame and nobody else to lean on.  The buck begins and ends with you.  In many ways, I'm alone, but, in other ways, I'm very well connected here as well.  I have internet in my room.  The national staff are all about a 45 minute bus ride away.  There are several other volunteers living within the city limits should I need them.  I have all of these resources at my disposal, but I try not to use them.  The more I get used to it being just me in Senegal, the easier it will be to do 2 years here.

On the work side, I've mainly been trying to refocus my priorities since returning from PST2 a month ago.  I've stopped working with some people and picked up a couple others.  I'm just trying to focus on the areas where my skills and the partner's needs match up best.  The two projects that I picked up are both quite a ways away.  One is located in Guediawaye and another is in Zac Mbao.  Both of those are Google-able if you're interested in seeing where geographically I am.  In Guediawaye, there's a group of 7 women who have a lot of time on their hands and a desire to work, but no real idea how to run a business.  Currently, I'm taking them through the steps on how to generate and vet business ideas.  We've got it down to making cosmetic soap or designing clothes targeted at youth (these women are all fairly young).  After we decide, we'll basically do a mini business plan.  We'll look at the operations, finances, and marketing and use all of that information to decide if the business is viable.  Once the business is up and running, I'll advise them on formalization opportunities, accounting methods, and expansion opportunities.  The project in Zac Mbao is with a sole entrepreneur who has recently started a chicken raising business that also does money transfers and sells school supplies/makes copies/scans on the side.  Yes, the old chicken coupe/money transfer/copy shop combo.  She also wants to manage all of this business activity on one spreadsheet.  The problem is each part of the business has nothing to do with the others.  She's essentially running three businesses at the same time and called me in to try to make sense of it all.  I'm doing my best with her and she's very receptive to the suggestions I've made, but it's a tall order trying to make sense of such a fragmented business model, especially when she's so far away.  I'm hoping I can arrange it so that one of the next group of CEDers to come in country is assigned to her.

Nothing else really important worth mentioning.... except Ebola I guess.  Yeah, there was the one case here, but it was in the news for a little bit and died out.  No other cases, no other precautions that I wasn't already taking.  I haven't changed my behavior in the slightest and don't consider myself at risk.  There are certainly plenty of times when I fear for my life over here, but it's never because of Ebola.... I guess I should clarify what I mean when I say I fear for my life.  Living here in Dakar for a certain period of time, you realize that every time you get in a car, you're punching a lottery ticket.  Even as a pedestrian, you're not safe.  There are a lot of accidents here.  An unacceptable amount.  There's a part of you that wonders if it's not a matter of if, but when you're involved in one.  When the bus driver goes a particularly ridiculous speed down a residential road, I pray a kid doesn't jump out.  When we hop up on the curve to avoid massive potholes or lakes of raw sewage (both very common), I pray we don't get off balance and tip over.  Those are really the only times when I fear for my life.  When I put my fate in the hands of Senegalese drivers.  Because I'm aware of the danger, though, I'm always aware of my surroundings and what could go wrong.  That awareness really is the key even as a passenger.  If you lose awareness or focus, the city will take advantage in one way or another.  Stay aware, stay present, stay mindful and you can avoid the dangers of big city life.

Cost of Living in Senegal

Bear with me. This is going to be a loooong post. Those of you who pay really close attention to this blog might notice something peculiar about the title of this entry. It's not a movie title. That's because this post has nothing to do with me or my story here. What it is talking about is a particular observation that I've made. That observation is that a wage of $5 per day, while entirely insufficient for one person in America, is a livable wage here. It's not enough to save much or to afford much luxury, but you can live pretty normally on that wage. The important question that is raised when one hears this is: Why is the cost of living so low here?

I've come up with 5 factors that all help to lower the cost of living in Senegal, but I'm sure there are many more. These are just the ones that are most apparent to me. They are: the real estate market (or lack thereof), social/collective charity, a focus on functionality, a lack of middlemen from farm to table, and a lack of government intervention. Allow me to spend a little more time explaining each of these five factors and how specifically they lower the cost of living in Senegal.

There isn't much of a real estate market here in Senegal especially once you move out of the big cities. Houses, farms, and compounds get passed around the family and rarely get sold on the open market. How does this effect the cost of living? Well, most people don't have to worry about rent because they can just stay at their family's place. This makes both economic and social sense for the individuals and the families, so you typically only find people living on their own in bigger cities. Even then, they are likely either students or semi-skilled workers and live with several roommates. Overall, the monthly fixed cost of lodging is much less expensive here in Senegal. This also causes the cost of living to drop indirectly because, in the absence of rent, workers don't demand as high of a wage as they would if they needed to pay for rent. Lower labor costs means lower prices for locally produced goods.

The idea of social charity might seem quite foreign to Americans. Most charity work done in America is done for the benefit of a selected group or individuals. You have charities for the homeless, for disaster victims, for cancer patients, etc. Social or collective charity is a charitable act that is done for the benefit of all members of the society. The biggest example of this comes from “sandwich ladies”. These are women who set up stands selling sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, or dinner (or sometimes all three). They are typically not formalized, have little to no fixed assets, and only operate out of a wooden stand on the side of the road. From a distance, it looks like these women are performing an income-generating activity attempting to earn a little extra cash. If you look a little closer and ask the right questions, though, you see that that's not the case. At the prices these women sell their sandwiches, you see that they make very little profit if any at all. Even the ones that do very well aren't making so much money that the women could support their families with it. They always need another stream of income. The thing is, even if you did the math for one of these women and showed her that she is making approximately no money, she likely wouldn't care. Many of these women are, in their minds, simply performing a social service, filling a perceived need within the community. It really isn't about money at all. Another example of social charity is that if you ask someone for something small, like a piece of fruit for example, you're likely to receive it. In this culture, it's customary to offer to share everything. From my perspective, when this first happened to me, I thought they were doing the “polite” thing and didn't actually want me to take what they were offering. As I've learned more about this country, I've learned that when somebody offers you something, they won't give it up begrudgingly if you accept. They will be happy to give it to you. This concept of social charity keeps the cost of living low because it's one link on the value chain that does not demand a profit. In America, the “sandwich ladies”, for example, would likely demand a markup of 20-30% to pay for their time and energy. The fact that they don't do that here in Senegal means lower prices for everyone.

The next reason is that, in terms of what people demand in a product or service, their focus is on functionality. Things don't have to be clean and pretty here. If they work, they're used. For that reason, you can get a ride across town for 25 cents from one of the old, banged-up vans and it still makes financial sense for the van owner. Other businesses minimize their fixed costs in similar ways, holding on to equipment that would be considered well past its useful life in America. This certainly does cause a lot of problems in terms of quality and safety of many products, but the pros and cons of this practice are outside the scope of this essay. Right now, I only care about how it affects the cost of living, which is undeniable. Because of this focus on functionality, businesses can minimize costs by stretching the useful life of some of their inputs. This, of course, can be extended to individuals as well. People hold off fixing their window or painting their house or they keep that pair of shoes much longer than it would be socially acceptable to do in America. The same general principles applies to the individuals as to the business. Extending the life of the goods you have reduces your expenses.

In America, produce passes through several intermediaries between production and your kitchen. Each of these “middlemen” along the way demand a markup to pay for the services they're providing and to have a bit of profit. Each step, therefore increases the price. Here in Senegal, produce typically only passes through one or two intermediaries before arriving at the market and it's certainly not unusual to see farmers bring their produce to some markets directly. In America, producer's markets (i.e. farmer's markets) are certainly becoming more popular, but the vast majority of produce is still bought through supermarkets. The lack of intermediaries in Senegal allows farmers to recoup more of the “true profit” of their produce (true profit meaning price to consumer minus cost to produce) and also allows the end consumer to pay a lower price because he/she doesn't have to pay for the profits of as many intermediaries along the way. Again, this lower price sounds great in theory, but Senegal also has a major problem with food spoilage due to a lack of infrastructure that is able to efficiently distribute the food. In America, we pay a little more, but there aren't areas of the country that simply don't have vegetables at certain parts of the year. Again, the discussion of the pros and cons is outside the scope of this essay. The undeniable fact remains: fewer middlemen equals lower prices to consumers.

The final major factor that I've noted that decreases the cost of living is a lack of government involvement and regulation. I've been talking about the food industry for most of this essay, so let's start there. There is an FDA-like entity here in Senegal called the ITA, but it's scope is much more limited than its American counterpart. It typically only steps in once a business reaches a particular size and wants to expand into more formalized sectors in the market. Most smaller farmers and businesses, food-related or otherwise, don't worry about any regulation, taxation, or impediments from the government at all. Again, this carries both good and bad consequences, but it is another cost that American farms and businesses need to account for that Senegalese ones don't. Few Senegalese businesses pay for accountants or audits or have safeguards in place to prepare for such things. Few worry about workplace safety and often cut costs on safety regulations or equipment. Many pay no taxes at all. These are all things that are “costs of doing business” in America that all need to be paid for by the price the business charges for its goods and services. When businesses aren't legally required to pay for these things, many won't and, in a competitive market, they will provide lower prices because of it.

So, there they are. Five factors that all contribute to the difference in the cost of living between Senegal and America. I'm sure I've missed some major ones, but this isn't a thesis or a treatise. I just found it interesting that, while the exchange rate is approxmately 1 dollar to 500 FCFA, a dollar bill in America is not the same as a 500 FCFA note in Senegal.

The Matrix

I've just returned to Dakar after a two-week training in Thies.  I was officially a volunteer before, but now I suppose it's more official.  I'm now allowed to start projects, so there's nothing to hide behind anymore, although it's not like I was doing that before anyway.  I won't go into too much detail about the training as it was mainly technical material that, frankly, isn't interesting enough to the general public to receive even a passing mention.  I will mention one interesting exercise that we did on the final day of training. We were asked to answer these three questions:

1.  What is expected of you as a Peace Corps volunteer?

2.  What is expected of you as a volunteer in your sector (i.e. CED, Health, or Ag)?

3.  What is expected of you as a volunteer in your work zone (i.e. physical region)?

The interesting part is that we also answered these questions on our second day in country and we were given our previous answers to compare.  I wasn't interested to see how stupid or naive I was because not much has changed on that front.  What that exercise allowed me to see is the level of specificity with which I could now answer those questions.  My answers were no longer one-word, terribly vague answers like "cooperation".  They were specific, relevant, and actionable.  The training program of Peace Corps Senegal is far from perfect and is still a work in progress, but they claim to have the best developed training program in the Peace Corps community and I believe them.  This is not your mom and pop's Peace Corps, folks. We're organized, prepared, and ready to work on clearly stated goals and objectives.

Upon returning to Dakar, I had an interesting feeling that was to this point in my service unfamiliar to me.  I felt like I understood things.  I was, to a certain extent, Neo in The Matrix beginning to see the source code for the first time.  Upon my homecoming, I saw that all of the hustle and complexity of Dakar began to make a little bit of sense.  I was starting to see the underlying forces that drive this mass of over a million people. I knew what cars went where, where to find them, and how much to pay.  I knew where all the neighborhoods were.  I was understanding Wolof spoken on the streets and amongst my family members.  I learned that my family isn't talking about how rude I'm being as I had feared on several occasions.  They're talking about Ebola... just like everybody else in the world.  I think I can finally say the following sentence without embarrassment or qualification. I speak Wolof. Now, don't take this comparison too far.  I still have a lot to learn.  A lot.  Also, I'm still far from fluent and still meet situations every day that I don't entirely understand. It's just that, upon returning to Dakar after being away for a couple weeks, I was acutely aware of how much progress I had made in just my three months of living there.  I now have more confidence than ever that I will know Dakar like I know my hometown and will get to a respectable level in Wolof and will continue to get better at French.

Unfortunately, things aren't all sunshine and rainbows.  This is literally true because the rains have finally started here in Dakar.  They're about three weeks late.  We'll see how the rain total for the year ends up, but chances are it will be lower than average.  It's also true figuratively because, despite my confidence in my ability to perform my work, I have less confidence in my ability to make friends, senegalese or otherwise, in this country.  It's honestly not a major concern for me.  I've certainly done pretty well for long stretches without having friends that I could lean on.  It's just that the ability to make a personal connection makes life (and work for that matter) a little easier.  It remains to be seen, but it's quite likely that the same thing that happened at U.Va. will happen here.  I could come out of an intense 2 year experience with fewer friends than I had before due to consistently putting my work and myself ahead of others.  Now that I write out my priorities, I suppose it's not exactly a mystery why I have trouble. I do freely admit that it is, in fact, almost entirely my own doing. Honestly, if work goes well and I keep an open line of communication with my family, it will be a non-issue as it has been in the past.  If one of those things falls through, however, I fear that I lack the support structure here to hold me up. 

Sorry for getting a little personal there. I try to censor myself as little as possible and that's just what I happened to be thinking about at the time. Anyway, as I previously mentioned, we've past my in-service training, so there are no major barriers or milestones left that I need to cross in my service. From now on, it's just about carving out a little life for myself here in Senegal one day at a time.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

        There are a lot of reasons why Senegal hasn't advanced economically as quickly as other countries, but it's certainly not because there are no highly intelligent, highly skilled individuals working to make this country a better place to live. Perhaps there aren't enough, perhaps too many of them leave the country for more lucrative work, but there are certainly many who stay here and work here. Most of my work throughout these first two and a half months in Dakar has just been meeting these people and understanding their businesses, goals, and problems. Sometimes I find them, sometimes they find me, but it always ends up with us just sitting in a room talking about what they want from their business. I could talk very generally about the work I do, but I think it's more accurate and more compelling to describe my work first through an anecdote.
         This work partner was introduced to me through a friend of a fellow volunteer. He is the reason that I titled this post “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” because his passion and expertise in his craft reminds me of Jiro's passion and expertise for sushi in the aforementioned documentary. He is a baker and he makes artisanal breads from fresh, local ingredients. His knowledge of the various grains and techniques is unrivaled; his passion for quality and healthy foods unmatched. On top of this, he speaks English and is a former professor who loves to talk about his craft and share it with others. In other words, he's a model that all social entrepreneurs could follow. After several weeks of trying to set up a meeting, we finally found time for me to go visit his workplace and talk about his business. What I found wasn't big or fancy, it was just a guy and a few family members making bread. They didn't even have their own packaging and would just deliver in regular plastic bags to whoever would buy their products. He explained to me how the business was started and all the different kinds of bread he makes as well as some of the technical stuff. He told me that he primarily wanted help finding appropriate, personalized packaging and finding new markets. He made sure to emphasize that he didn't want to grow too quickly because that would hurt the quality of his product. He stated very clearly that he would rather see the business fold than produce a less-than-perfect product. I pledged to help him in whatever ways I could and, on my way out, he loaded me up with all kinds of breads including an experimental cornbread that was not yet available for sale. I quickly finished the bread and have been working on researching plastic packaging producers here in Senegal as well as a few associations he would be eligible for that could help him find more customers. I just recently reported back with my findings, so I hope he responds so we can continue to work together.
         So, that captures a little bit of what I'm doing. In more general terms, I'm also trying to help a company export dried mangoes, created an excel spreadsheet that automatically calculates profits, taught a juice-maker about unit costing, and teach English three times a week on the side. I also want to teach ultimate, but have had no luck finding a class thus far. Ramadan will be over on Tuesday and my family and I will be attending a large celebration in Thies. I'll spend a few days there, then come back to Dakar for a few days, then return to Thies on August 4^th for another 2 weeks of training. I'll be reunited with everybody from pre-service training back in the same facility, so it should be a decent time despite being stuck in a classroom for 8-10 hours a day. I recently had my camera shipped here, so I've finally been able to snap a few pictures. I'll end this post by sharing two of my favorite spots in Dakar. This first photo you have likely already seen if you pay attention to my Facebook account.  It's the view from the top of a hill where a lighthouse sits called the Phare des Mamelles.  It's one of the few quiet spots in Dakar and offers a great view as well. This picture is the view from the food court at a swanky mall called the Sea Plaza.  This is a place to get American food like burgers and pizzas, a cold drink, air conditioning, and a wonderful seaside view without breaking the bank too much (about $8-$10 per meal).  I typically come here on Sunday afternoons to relax a bit and to buy a few things at the fancy supermarket upstairs.  That's all I have for you for now.  Thanks for reading.

Safety Not Guaranteed

Some things should never be normal.  Whether it's seeing kids begging in the streets, untreated mental or physical disabilities, or just general poverty, there are a lot of things here in Senegal that, despite my desire to prevent it, are starting to feel like a regular part of life and, thusly, unmoving; able to be ignored.  Another, slightly less serious, example of this is the standard of safety and cleanliness in public transportation.  Just today, I was on my way home from meeting with a tailor who wanted help calculating and analyzing her revenues and expenses.  I stood on the side of the highway just beyond the bus stop where the "car rapides" would stop. For those of you who are unfamiliar, allow me to take a moment to explain a little bit of what a "car rapide" is.

Car rapides are an innovation unique to Senegal and, in my opinion, carry a very interesting history and cultural significance.  Anyway, they're essentially old luggage carriers from Europe that have been imported and modified to suit the needs of public transport.  They install benches in the back, cut windows in the side, and give the van a really colorful paint job.  Once the car is ready to go, it requires two employees to operate.  The driver and an "apprenti" who basically handles everything with the customer including payment and advertising where the vehicle is heading.  Taking a car rapide is, in theory, very easy as you simply enter through the back and sit wherever there's space.  When the apprenti comes around to take fares, you tell him where you're going and you can either ask him how much or you can just act like you know the price and pay whatever you want.  After a while, you just get to know the price between certain destinations and you only speak up to ask for your change.  The reason I sometimes take these cars despite Peace Corps official recommendation is because they can be about 85-95% cheaper than a taxi and twice as fast as a bus. They are far and away the best transportation option for certain routes including traveling up and down one major highway called the VDN which I happen to do a lot of.  This is the way that many Senegalese get around.  To integrate in Dakar is to take car rapides.  The way they make the ride so cheap is by a) using hand-me-down vehicles, b) doing repairs only when absolutely necessary, and c) piling so many people into the van that it's no longer possible to see inside because bodies are blocking the entirety of the window.  Here's the breakdown:  there's one bench behind the driver that faces backwards that can fit 5 or 6.  There's another one behind it that faces forward that fits 5.  These two benches face each other, but there's only enough leg room for one, so you have to interlock legs in order to fit everybody.  Behind that, there's a bench lining the left and right walls that each fit 5.  Also, 2 or 3 people can sit in the seat next to the driver.  Now all the seats are gone, but there's still space for 3-4 people to stand between the side benches.  Now all the space inside the vehicle is gone, but we're still not done!  There is space for 2 passengers plus the apprenti to hang out of the back of the van standing on the step people use to climb into the cabin, hanging onto anything they can get their hands on.  If you're following, that's a theoretical maximum of 32 people if I'm doing my math correctly in a space that probably wouldn't fit 20 in the States.  Senegal isn't very efficient with much, but one of the things it does very well is packing people into, around, and on top of moving vehicles.  Now that you have a decent understanding of a car rapide, let's return to the story.

I was waiting for the car rapide when finally I saw the van with the unmistakeable paint job approaching.  Unfortunately, this car was already quite full and all of the people getting off were quickly replaced by people from the crowd that formed around the car when it stopped.  I decided to wait for the next one so the crowd would thin out.  Another nice thing about car rapides is that, like taxis, the next one is never very far away.  I waited another few minutes for the next one to roll along.  When it did, it, unfortunately, painted a very similar picture.  Lots of people, little space.  I decided to wait for a third despite my desire to come home and eat lunch as I was hoping that the next one would offer me at least room to stand up.  The third one came with a similar story except this time, the apprenti asked me specifically where I was going.  I told him and, noting that it was on his route, motioned me to board.  There was absolutely no room inside the cabin and already one person hanging out the back, so I told him that it was full and that I would wait for the next one.  He insisted that there was, indeed, space, and motioned to the space remaining on the step off the back of the cabin.  I thought for a moment and, for what I did next, I must apologize to the Peace Corps security staff, my mother, and all who hold me dear or who are merely responsible for me.  I grabbed on.  In the moment, I was dominated by hunger and boredom as it was nearly 2pm by this point, I hadn't yet had lunch and I had let 2 cars go by already.  In hindsight, I just did what I had to do to get home.  A few stops later, some space cleared up and I was able to move inside, but I still spent several minutes hanging off the back of an old, beat up van with 30 people in it, rolling down the highway.  Needless to say, in America, this car would be stopped immediately and police would arrest everyone involved.  This is life in the Peace Corps, though.  You adapt to your environment and what your country considers normal.  In Dakar, it's normal for young men to hang off the back of the van so that others may stay inside, so that's what I'm expected to do.  The security team does what they have to do and they do good work.  I'm confident that, if I ever really get in trouble, they can get me out of it.  They aren't holding my hand 24/7 though, so, despite their best efforts to ensure it, safety, especially during transportation, is most definitely not guaranteed.

So, with that story out of the way, this post is too long to do a full work update, so I'll just keep it short and save the full update for next post.  It's not like I'm getting that much work done anyway as we're currently in Ramadan, the fasting moon, which means not a lot of work is getting done anywhere.  Thanks for your support thus far and thanks for reading!

In the Loop

When I wrote my last post, as some of you know, I was going through a bit of a low point.  My service, by the grace of God, had been without major hardship up to that point as I had only had the one minor sickness that was gone within 24 hours and no major mental/emotional struggles to speak of.  I suppose it was just a matter of time before all of the stress and pressure caught up with me.  Fortunately, I have a strong support structure both back home in America and here in Senegal who was able to help me through the first of what will likely be several low points over these next 2 years.  I just hope that the next one is as mild and short-lived as this last one was.

Anyway, I mentioned that I would describe my living situation and work in a little more detail in this post and I see no reasonable excuse I could use to break that promise, so I suppose those will be the contents of this post.

I'm going to start with a photo that will likely make a lot of people question whether I'm really in the Peace Corps or not.  That photo is of my living room, which is on the floor above my bedroom.  I basically live in an apartment complex in the owners' apartment which spans 2 floors.  Upstairs is my host parents' bedroom as well as a small kitchen and two living rooms.  The one you see is the nicer one, the one we receive guests in, but it's still a testament to how good my living conditions are here.  While the kitchen isn't much to look at, it still has a working sink, gas stove, and refrigerator, which is rare among volunteers.  My room, along with 3 other rooms (2 for the kids and 1 guest room), are downstairs.  Here, you can see a view from the bottom of the stairs, essentially taken from my doorway.  And now, the view from the top of the stairs.  There are a couple things to notice here.  There is no railing on the inside part of the spiral and the steps are essentially just a 2 inch bar of metal.  There's not a lot of room for error here in terms of foot placement.  In addition, if you look closely, you can see that the top step is missing which forces shorter people to do a small leap to either get to the first step or to the safety of the floor and taller people to do an awkward long step.  Luckily, being of the latter group, I haven't had any problems with these stairs so far.  That doesn't mean that a part of me isn't slightly terrified every time I go up and down those steps.  It truly is a great way to wake up in the morning.  Oh, I suppose I'll add the bathroom here.  Not a lot of people talk to me about it, but I have a feeling that some of you are quietly interested in my bathroom situation.  So, as you can see, I have a western toilet with working running water.  I also have a sink off to the left that isn't pictured.  Over on the right is the shower area and a squeegee I use to clean up.  Overall, it's a pretty nice setup.  The only thing that I wish I had is a better view from my window.  After seeing the beautiful views that other volunteers have, that's one thing that I'm definitely jealous of. 

So, work went from 0 to 60 in 3.8 seconds.  One day, I was sitting in my room wondering when I'd actually start doing things.  The next day, I'm shaking hands with a member of the President Sall's cabinet at a conference with hundreds of small business owners where I represented the entire Community Economic Development program.  I must have been at that convention center for 20 hours over the 2 days I was at the conference and I must have talked to 100 entrepreneurs, students, and aspiring entrepreneurs about what Peace Corps does, what the CED program does, and how they can get in contact with a volunteer near them.  Luckily, this conference was almost exclusively in French, so I was able to express myself fairly well and only used Wolof when people wanted to see how well I spoke it.  Fortunately for me, they had very low standards, so I believe I made mostly good impressions on behalf of the program.  On top of that, I finally met with the women's group who, in all likelihood, will be my main work partner for the duration of my service.  I'm not doing any work with them just yet, but I'm observing, getting to know the members, and just being present.  That way, when the time comes, they'll be more than willing to voice their opinions, answer my questions, and help me with anything I need.  Once I get going, I believe my first steps with the juice making group will be helping them get some bottling equipment and get their merchandise stocked in supermarkets which will greatly expand their market reach.  They have the capacity to produce quite a bit of various kinds of juices, but simply aren't reaching enough individuals to sell anywhere near their capacity.  For that reason, they only work a couple days a week.  With the soap-making part of the group, I'll need to basically start from square 1 with them and look at costs.  The key question is, exactly how much does it cost to make one unit of soap?  Once I have that information, the answers to several other important questions, like pricing and profits, become clear.  This type of work is still probably a month away, however, as I want to do some relationship building and explore other work options before that.  In addition, I have meetings scheduled with a tailor who the previous Dakar volunteer helped create a website and online database for and a baker who claims to make nutritious breads from local ingredients.  I'm sure many more meeting requests are on the way as a result of the conference for small business owners.

 That's all I have for now.  Thank you for your continued support.  I'm not sure what these next few weeks will bring, so it's tough to provide a preview of my next post.  Whatever happens, though, I'll continue to keep you updated on life and work here in Dakar.  Thanks for reading!

The Skin I Live In

These last couple weeks have been up and down.  Every day is a learning experience which is good when you feel like you're making progress and really bad when you aren't.  Over the last couple weeks and some change, I got to know my family, did some traveling, and hit my first really rough patch that I'm still working my way out of.  When we last spoke, I was about to move in with the family I'll be living with for the next 2 years, so let me start there.

Life with the family has been pretty uneventful so far.  Move-in was a very busy day during which I met several government officials as well as my host family, but nothing remarkable came of it besides the exchange of a few phone numbers.  The interesting part, to my perspective, came when all of the dust settled and it was just me and my family trying to create a situation we might call "normal".  I started by learning names and relationships.  There's the mother and father Ms. Cisse and Mr. Diop (in Senegalese culture, women often choose to keep their maiden name), as well as a few kids (Pap, Amadou, and Buoy), a daughter-in-law (Biti), and some help around the house/adopted sister (Mami).  Pretty much all of them speak French, but we've made an agreement to speak only Wolof with me to help me learn, a decision which has caused its fair share of problems.  Sometimes they get frustrated when I don't understand, sometimes I don't want to talk and go in my room, but, all and all, there have been no major problems with the family or living situation so far.  The house itself, actually, is extremely nice by anybody's standards.  There's a TV, running water, multiple stories, and wi-fi (which is a blessing and a curse).  I have my own bed and bathroom and electricity and internet in my room so I have everything I could ever ask for in terms of amenities.  As I said, though, this type of connectivity is not without its drawbacks.

Consistent internet allows me to keep in touch with my family or look up important information or communicate with colleagues.  However, it also gives me a keen awareness of everything that I left behind in America.  College graduations happened over the past few weekends which brought to my Facebook feed pictures of not just The Lawn at U.Va., but also graduations at Virginia Tech, North Carolina, and other schools.  I saw people I once knew with whom I could have developed a closer friendship had I not been changing schools every year.  I saw groups of people or pairs of friends that I remembered as freshman or sophomores, now graduating seniors and I imagined the experiences they had between when I left them and that picture.  I imagined what it would have been like to share my college experience with somebody; to spend 4 years in one town.   To an extent, I envy that.  I envy it because I never really built a home at college.  My experience was quite unique and rewarding, but, as a result, I had to go through it alone.  I had to give up my life at Virginia Tech to go to UNC.  I had to give up my life at UNC to go to U.Va.  I had to give up my life in Richmond to come here.  It's one thing to choose to go to one school over another, but it's another to go somewhere, meet the people you could spend 4 years (or the rest of your life) with, start down that road and choose to go another direction.  Every life is an infinite fractal.  You have an infinite amount of paths to walk down, so you must turn down an infinite amount of opportunities.  When you begin walking one direction and see friendships blossoming, opportunities arising, a life developing, it's that much harder to turn around.  I've chosen to do that 3 times and the costs are starting to catch up to me.  I don't exactly regret moving around so much, but I'm now keenly aware of the costs of it. Eventually, I got the degree I wanted, but at what cost?  Certainly more than just tuition.  It cost me friendships, too.  Maybe I'll grow to regret that exchange with time, maybe I'll realize how wise I was in my young years, but right now I'm caught in the middle questioning my priorities and life decisions that led me here.  That, ladies and gentlemen, is why the internet is not always a good thing.

Back to life in Dakar, so since move-in, I've had absolutely no contact with any of my bosses or other Peace Corps officials.  It's been entirely up to me to get to know the town, continue studying the language, and generally find things to do with myself.   I've generally just been traveling to different parts of the city to learn the bus system and see the sights.  In the more touristy areas, it's rare for a white person to speak Wolof, so I become a spectacle that draws the attention of several locals who are either genuinely interested in my or feigning interest to get close to me.  Unfortunately, it's very difficult to tell the difference between the two, so you have to treat everyone with respect.  In other places, nobody approaches me or seems to care that I'm there, but I feel like I'm still treated differently.  I obviously stand out in a crowd because of both my size and pigmentation, but during training, I didn't feel like I got treated very differently because of it.  Now, I feel like people look at me differently; are trying to assign stereotypes to me and judge me.  I also question the motives of the people who approach me now.  I've had a few bad experiences with people trying to rip me off and work me over, so I always wonder when the person is going to ask me to come to his shop or flatly ask for money.  I can count on my hands the number of people who, besides my family, I felt like were genuinely interested in me and not pretending to be so because they thought they could get something out of me.  Again, maybe I'm cynical, but I think I have a reason to be cautious.  I am aware of the stereotypes that I'm facing.  All I can do, though, is continue to work to find the people who will treat me with respect and care about me as a person.  I've met a few already and I know I'll meet more in a country that calls itself "Le Pays de la Teranga" (The Country of Hospitality).  It just takes time to build those relationships.

I'll be meeting my work partners soon and after that I'll have a good idea of exactly what type of work I'll be doing.  I'll be sure to post when that happens and I'll also try to get pictures of my room and living situation up for the next post as well.  Thanks for reading!

Fearless

So it begins.

I passed my final language exam, went to the beach, attended the swearing-in ceremony and am now sitting in the regional house in Dakar waiting to move into my family on Tuesday, the 13th.  There's quite a lot to reflect on, so let me pick up where I left off in my last post.

We said good-bye to our host families and host towns almost a week ago now.  We had a party in Thies to celebrate their commitment and our making it through the homestay.  My good-bye, like most others I've had, was a fairly anti-climactic one.  There was no exchanging of large gifts or displays of affection.  However, I do have a profound gratitude for all the help that the Amar family and Bayax in general gave me during my two months there.  Despite my last name changing to Diop in Dakar, I will always be an Amar in Bayax.

The morning of the family party, however, we had serious business to attend to: the language exam.  In Peace Corps, their testing of the language is purely functional meaning that they don't care about grammar or the richness of your vocabulary.  They care only about how well you can understand what is said to you and how well you can express your own needs and ideas.  The test consists solely of a conversation, typically 15-25 minutes, in the target language.  The tester will chat, ask questions, and give a scenario of varying complexity depending on how well your know the language.  Trainees need to achieve a certain level of mastery in order to swear in, so there's a fair amount of pressure on that one conversation.  Luckily, I achieved that level and then some.

After our language exam, we went to Popenguine which is possibly the finest beach town in Senegal.  The conditions, by American standards, rough.  2 houses for 55 people.  By our Senegalese standards, though, it was a paradise.  The water and electricity worked (most of the time), there was good food nearby at a variety of price levels, and there were spectacular views to be viewed.  I'll give you a couple examples of some pictures that one of my colleagues took here: Picture 1 and Picture 2.  There was also a fancy restaurant right next door to my house that I went to with a few of the training staff our second night there.  It was fairly expensive by Senegalese standards, but it was well worth the price as it was as good as any meal I've gotten at a restaurant regardless of the country.  After 2 days and 2 nights in Popenguine, it was time to head back to Thies and then Dakar the next day for swearing-in.

The ceremony itself was well done and concise.  The country director of Peace Corps spoke a little, then the US Ambassador, then a Senegalese dignitary, then a few trainees in 4 separate local languages.  It could have easily been a several hour affair, but we were done within 2.  Afterwards, there was a reception at the Ambassador's residence which was fancy to say the least.  We, the trainees, stuffed ourselves together one last time and we all went back to Thies for final preparations and departure for sites.  All except for me who stayed behind in Dakar and was driven to the Peace Corps house to wait until Tuesday for the install team to arrive.

Since Friday evening, I've been left to fend for myself in Dakar.  So far, it's been an experience filled with lots of defeats and minor victories.  On Saturday (yesterday), I spent all day looking for the bank.  After several hours and 3 separate tries, I found a bank that I could use (not the one I was looking for) and was able to withdraw enough money to get me through the next few weeks.  Even though it took me all day to do a fairly normal activity, I still considered the day a success for 2 reasons.  First, I found a bank and did what I needed to do.  Second, I was able to find my way home despite getting completely lost on my first try.  I took a wrong turn and was in a completely unknown area, but I was able to use a variety of clues to figure it out, find a landmark I knew, and find my way home.  This was all repeated again today when I wanted to go to Ebbets Field to play ultimate frisbee with a group of Americans who have weekly games over there.  I was with a fellow PCV from Thies, so we took a taxi there which cost 750 each.  On the way back, though, she had to go back to Thies, so I was left on my own to get home and I challenged myself to do it without taking a taxi.  I walked for a bit, keeping in mind what direction I was going and in which direction my destination was.  Eventually, I found a large road with buses on it that were going in a good direction, so I hopped on one.  I paid for the ride and began looking for clues.  Where did people tell the ticket taker they were going?  What streets and landmarks are we passing?  What direction are we going in?  I eventually concluded that we must be passing by the area that the Peace Corps National Office is located in and I know how to get to the regional house from the office.  Sure enough, we passed by the office, so I got out, got on another bus, and arrived home shortly afterwards.  It wasn't the most efficient route, but I got home safely without taking a taxi.  All and all, even with an elongated route, the bus route was a third of what a taxi would have costed.  These are the things that a Dakar volunteer has to do.  I'm on a salary of less than $500 per month in a big city.  I can't afford to take taxis unless I have 1 or 2 people to split the cost with, even then, only occasionally.  I can't afford to eat lunch at the restaurant that seems more comfortable and familiar to me at around $3 per plate.  I have to eat where the locals eat in the tin shack with a tarp roof that's just two ladies selling bowls of rice and fish (basically the national dish) for $1 a pop or with my family, of course.  I've gotten so used to this country, though, (the good and bad parts of it) that I would go to the tin shack even if I had the money.  There's just so much more personality there.  Also, the food's better.  Overall, the theme here is that I can't be afraid.  I can't be afraid to get lost because it will happen anyway.  I can't be afraid to try new things, even if they don't look like I think they should, because I can't afford not to.  I can't be afraid to stare down a city of 2 million people in a foreign country in (mostly) a language I started learning 2 months ago and take it on because that's my job now.


Well, this turned into a very long post, so congrats to the two of you who made it all the way down here.  Fortunately, there's still more to come about my triumphs and defeats in my attempt to learn and conquer Dakar, so stay tuned.  Thank you for reading!

Waiting

I've spent the past 2+ weeks in Bayax working on a variety of projects including analyzing a local business, starting a garden, and building a compost pile along with continuing to learn the language with my fellow volunteers.  We had varying levels of success completing those projects (goats knocked down our fence and ate our garden), but we learned a lot about the type of work we might be doing at site and we've made a lot of progress with the language.  It's hard to believe that my time in Bayax is already almost over.  Tomorrow morning, I'll return to Thies for a few days, spend one day in Dakar with the entire training group, and return to Bayax for one last weekend to prepare for our final language exam.  After that, we go to the beach for a few days and swear in as volunteers on the 9th  Training, thankfully, is less than 2 weeks from being over. 

I say "thankfully" because after I went to Dakar, saw my site, home, and work partners, training changed from a helpful buffer between life in America and life in Senegal to a barrier between me and my service.  Now, I'm just playing the waiting game until I get through it.  That is not to say that I have anything bad to say about it or Bayax.  It's just served its purpose in that I feel ready for my two years of service.

On a more personal note, I find myself doing things I would never do in the States and not caring about certain things that were essential to my life there.  I often go for a walk through the town in the evenings once it  cools off.  I use the excuse that I'm practicing my language but, really, I just like watching the little town work.  I don't care that I have the same thing for lunch every day anymore.  It's just lunch.  I don't care if the power goes out during the hottest part of the day.  It's not like there's A/C anyway.  I don't care that I only get on the internet once a week or so now despite spending upwards of 10 hours a day on it at times in the States.  When I do get on the internet, I spend my time talking to my family or doing things like this.  The things I used to do on the net, like watching videos and looking at funny pictures,  just don't seem important anymore. 

Something another volunteer said really stuck with me.  She said to two other volunteers, "You had a career in Finance, you had a career in consulting, and I had a career in accounting and now we're all together shoveling manure in Africa" (shoveling manure was part of building the compost pile)  Peace Corps takes away your house, car, job, and the rest of your possessions, leaving you with just you.  Regardless of who we were before, how much money we had, or if we were born in America or Senegal, we're all here now shoveling manure onto the same figurative compost pile.

Metropolis

I join the Peace Corps expecting to live in a small town with little access to modern conveniences and familiarities then I get placed in Dakar, the big city.  Typically, Dakar is reserved for Urban Agriculture volunteers or 3rd year volunteers working on specific projects with NGOs for example.  I'm only the 2nd Community Economic Development volunteer to ever be placed in Dakar.  Luckily, the first CED volunteer to ever be placed in Dakar has been showing me around the town over the past few days, teaching me how to take the bus, how to navigate the various neighborhoods, and how to survive in such a big and crowded city.  My main takeaways from our few days together are that I have big shoes to fill, I need to learn the bus system, and I need to set a strict budget.  Dakar is a town of many distractions and, while these distractions might be fun or give you the comfort of home for a time, they are expensive and, ultimately, not the reason why I am here.  Balance between work, relaxation, and indulgence is key in the big city.

I will certainly have luxuries and conveniences that most volunteers do not have at their sites, however, I will also face challenges that other volunteers will not.  My house is in the neighborhood of Diamalaye and about a 2 minute walk from a pretty nice beach.  My main work partners will be a women's group located in Grand Yoff, which is one of the poorer neighborhoods of Dakar.  All of the comforts of home are available to me at arm's length.  The only problem with that is that I can rarely afford them on the salary that I'm receiving (which is by design).  I can't take taxis everywhere, I need to learn the bus system.  I can't go out to eat every day, I need to eat with my family, cook for myself, or learn where locals eat.  Of course, one of the perks of Dakar is that if you budget well and save up, you can afford ice cream or a burger or pizza every now and again. 

As I mentioned, one of my main work partners will be a women's group located in Grand Yoff.  They make a variety of products including juices and soap, have a garden, and have a micro-financing institution.  The previous volunteer in Dakar worked primarily with the juices group and they've made a lot of progress.  They are currently working on getting their packaging up to par to carry their juices in supermarkets around town.  There is still, however, plenty of work to do with the juice group in terms of product formalization and distribution, but the soap group could use some help with packaging and costing.  It will be up to me to analyze the situation over my first 2 months at site and decide where to allocate my time.  I have the freedom to make any projects that I want with any work partner and I'll receive plenty of invitations to attend events in Dakar and help out with other volunteers' projects, so I will have plenty of options.

I will return to Thies in a couple days and return to Bayax a few days later which will represent a stark contrast to my site.  I will spend 16 days in Bayax continuing to study Wolof, going on field trips, and completing the technical requirements of pre-service training.  I'm starting to see the finish line of training and feel ready for the two year challenge that awaits.

Dancer in the Dark

The time has come to try to start settling into a routine; to find a new normal. While we are far from the end of the process of learning a new language, we, unlike Bjork's character in the title film, are slowly gaining our vision. Our eyes are slowly being opened to the language and culture around them. Every day things make a little more sense than they did the day before. Every day, you learn a new word or phrase. Every day, we're slowly coming out of the darkness of ignorance we were thrown into. As I said, though, there's still a long, long way to go. For now, we continue to be mild spectacles in the town. Kids (and some adults) will speak to us for their own enjoyment, taking a Schadenfreude-esque delight in watching us flop around in Wolof like fish out of water. I have a feeling, though, that among all those people, there are several, many even, who are genuinely interested in who we are and why we're here. I've said this before, but it's worth mentioning again. The community has been extremely welcoming and patient with all of us. I've probably had one or two bad experiences during my entire stay here so far and they were with teenagers, who, let's face it, can be jerks in any culture. Senegal as a nation has its problems, but hospitality is not one of them. Today, I feel confident that I will make it; that one day I'll cease to be ignorant of everything going on around me and become just a normal guy on the street again. Until then, I have to show the same patience that Bayakh has showed me and meet the challenge that each new day brings.

On second thought, there is one member of the community that has been extremely unpleasant and has gone as far as to physically threaten me.  There is a mother hen with about 10 babies in our back yard who is about the meanest animal that I have ever encountered.  Her maternal instinct has simultaneously earned my utmost respect and never-ending fear.  Each trip to the bathroom (which is a separate room in the back yard) is a trip through the lair of my most feared enemy.  Also, "back yard" is a word that has certain connotations to American readers that I have to dispell.  In the Wolof language, the word for sand and the word for ground are exactly the same, so that should tell you something right there.  Also, the back yard could have come out of an episode of Hoarders with its piles of gas cans, glass bottles, and roofing tiles on top of plain old trash.  There's not much of a waste management infrastucture here so trash is pretty much everywhere, including my back yard.  Anyway, that's where that monster lives; in a pile of trash.  Luckily, I'm going back to Thies tomorrow and we learn our permanent sites on Tuesday evening, so I'll be free from her tyranny before long.

Fire Walk With Me

I just spent 5 days in a town called Bayakh, population 2000, about 30 minutes away from the comfort of the training center in Thies.  It truly was a trial by fire.  We learned what language we would be learning ( I got Wolof) and had our first language class one day and were promptly shipped off to our new families the next.  We knew only the bare essentials which consisted mostly of greetings and polite ways to take leave.  Those few days were a whirlwind of 7 hours of formal class per day plus meeting, greeting, and getting to know the family despite not having any idea what they're saying.  Despite all of this, I couldn't have asked for a nicer, more welcoming family so far.  While this test has pushed me to my limits so far, the support of my hosting family makes it a little bit easier.

My spirits were up and down during my first stay at what we call CBT (Community Based Training).  I had a spectacular meal during lunch and a meal that gave me food poisoning at dinner.  I would have a positive interaction and feel like I was making progress one day and feel completely lost the next.  I mostly resorted to pity to earn the good graces of my host family.  It's not the most honorable strategy, but it was likely the most effective I had at my disposal.  The more I learn the language, the more comfortable I'll feel.  Or at least that's what I have to keep telling myself.

Culturally, the Senegalese typically live in big families and these families share everything, including germs, unfortunately.  Meals, especially lunch, are eaten together from the same bowl.  This provides for some moments of questionable hygiene, but also some moments of touching displays of compassion.  When we're eating from the bowl, I will often get pieces of fish or carrot tossed into my part of the bowl by another family member, subtly suggesting that they are there to take care of me and ensure I get what I need and also subtly suggesting that I should eat more.  If we've learned nothing else in our local languages so far, we've learned the command "Eat!" and we've learned how to say "I'm full."  That is one of the most essential skills of CBT.

Tomorrow, I will return to Bayakh for 11 days and begin working on my training assignments which includes analyzing the physical and economic landscape of the community and basic financial literacy skills in my family.  It appears that as I get more comfortable with the language and culture, I will be given more and more complicated work assignments.  I can only hope that the fire dies down before the hot season comes.

Man on Wire

Time seems to drag on during staging and the first few days of Pre-Service Training (PST).  I've only been here for 6 days now and it seems like I've been here at least two weeks.  My concept of time in general has changed.  I have to remind myself what day it is because we currently have classes from 8am to 6:30pm every single day.  This will change when we go to our first Community Based Training to live with our temporary homestay families in a few more days, but it's rather exhausting for the time being.

For those first few days in the training center, you feel like you're not really in Africa yet.  Trainees are forbidden to leave the training compound until night 4 of PST and its high walls prevent you from seeing that much of the outside environment.  It's like an oasis designed to trap trainees, temporarily of course, in a space between America and Senegal.  They use this space to slowly introduce the Senegalese language and culture in a way that is as digestible as possible even to those who had never been to underdeveloped nations before.  To date, classes have focused on culture, health, and safety.  What are the major do's and don'ts in different situations and how, once you leave the training site, do you mitigate the risk of becoming ill or being the target of a crime?  These classes are taught by a combination of seasoned volunteers who are either close to ending their service or have extended for a third year and professionals who live primarily in Dakar.  I can't speak highly enough about the staff so far.  While some of the material has seemed repetitive, I can tell the staff are able to provide us with the best possible instruction and care regardless of location.

I'm going to hold off on giving my first impressions of Senegalese culture until I've returned from my first visit to my temporary homestay.  We've been spoon fed that portion of the curriculum so far, so that will really be a trial by fire.  We also have yet to be assigned languages and have only been able to pick up a few words and phrases that the instructors and mentors have taught us along the way, so communication will be difficult.  Most people at least understand French, so I'll always have that to fall back on, but Peace Corps has emphasized how important it is to them that we learn whatever local language we are assigned, so that will have to be the priority. 

I don't really have pictures right now nor do I think the internet would be fast enough to get them up in a reasonable amount of time right now, so you'll have to settle for a wall of text right now until I'm no longer in a situation where 60 people are trying to use only a few routers.