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.